KILHWCH AND OLWEN OR THE TWRCH TRWYTH

 Kilhwch, Arthur's cousin, is born in the mountains to a mother, who becomes wild during her pregnancy.  Shortly afterward she dies, and seven years later, her husband conquers King Doged's land, kills him, and takes his wife and daughter. The new queen speaks of a prophesy that says Kilhwich is destined to have Olwen, the daughter of Yspaddaden Penkawr.

Kilhwch journeys to Arthur, and tells him he want Olwen as wife. Not knowing who she is, Arthur sends  messengers to seek her, but at the end of a year she is not found.  Kai, one of Arthur's knights,  requests him to go with a group to find the maiden. Arthur calls Bedwyr, Kynddelig the Guide, Gwalchmai, a nephew of Arthur, Menw, who casts spells, and others, to go, too.

Coming to a castle, Kai ask a herdsman whose castle it is, and is told that of Yspaddaden Penkawr. However, Kai and the other knights learn that no one who sought Olwen ever returned alive.  They go to the herdsman's dwell. There they learn Olwen will be coming on her usual visit. The herdsman's wife tells then that Olwen made a pledge to her father not to go without his counsel, for he will die when she marries. The woman tells them to ask of her from her father, and perform what he requires to have her, else they might not escape with their life.

Going back to the castle, they kill the porters and enter. They meet Yspaddaden Penkawr, and   tell them their mission.  After some bickering and violence over three days, Penkawr imposes about 39 difficult tasks to prepare for the wedding feast. The most important task is to seize the comb and scissors from between the ears of the boar Twrch Trwyth. This is done during a chase that leads to the death of some of the men and the boar plunging into a river and then out to sea. (The comb and scissors should be regarded as treasure.)

At one point, Kai is angered by a ditty Arthur composed and no longer helps. The tasks accomplished, Kilhwch takes Olwen for wife, her father is slain, and his possessions taken.

Reflections in the Water

 

"Welcome to the Dutch Colmy Show," said the host into his mike. "With me this morning is author Sydell Ridley, whose fantasy novels have been granted approval by the board of censors for portraying women in empowering positions." 

Empowered? Ridley figured it more in line with the overlords' obsession with the occult.

"Mr Ridley's new collection, Undersea Empires, is available for download, subject to your social credit score. Re-education camps: see your counselor. Mr Ridley, your interest in fantasy began at the age of six while attending a mermaid show. An incident occurred that had a profound effect on you."

"That's right. I pieced it together years later, so I'll start at the beginning."

Ellie was shaking Binia, who dozed in bars of warm autumn light. "Time to get your hair up, missy. Out there in the water, you'll look like a drowned collie."

"Not that one," said dark-haired Sirtis. "What are those blonde-haired dogs. . . ."

"Very amusing." Binia took her swimsuit off the rack. Gleaming white became green and purple at the flukes. The trio carried their suits down the performers' corridor to the changing room. 

Their opening act involved a slide down the giant chute, then a backflip into deep water. Spectators had to yield the waterways until the various routines were complete. Later, in chest-deep water, the mermaids would mingle with visitors at graduated depths, while kids remained in the shallows. That came all too soon for red-haired Ellie.

She surfaced next to Sirtis, who had been cruising below, touching the legs of startled waders. "Guys are the worst. They know we aren't supposed to speak, but they flirt anyway."

"Let's get with Binia over at the autograph thing," Sirtis said.

The blonde supported herslf on one elbow at poolside, signing pictures with the other hand. At that moment, a mishap occurred nearby at the deep end.

Sydell had climbed outside the railing for a better view. Some of the onlookers were even getting splashed when the mermaids came close enough. His aunt was momentarily distracted. It was mostly young folks crowding forward, like the devious punk who pushed him over the edge. 

He'd been under before, at the beach, when a wave swamped him. But his dad was right there, thumping his back while he spluttered for breath. It was nothing like this.

Shock of cold water plugging his ears, pushing up into his nose; wavering light overhead as he sank; bubbles carried his life upward, and he couldn't hold them in. Couldn't any of those folks swim?

The dark-haired mermaid swept in like a torpedo. One hand grabbed his shirt, and he flailed in the vortex of her fin as powerful strokes carried them to the surface.

Air never tasted so good as he gulped it in. The mermaid, satisfied he was okay, lifted him up to grasping hands. She did backstrokes to rejoin the other two, while applause filled the arena.

"Amazing," said the interviewer. "I understand you never got any of the photos, because your aunt whisked you straight home."

"True, but I found some on the website. Here's Ellie.

"And here's Sirtis."

"Quite the lookers, aren't they? Tell me this, Mr Ridley--do you have any more info on their strange disappearance just before the Fall? Their emails had weird reference to a parallel world."

"Yes, they were in touch with the Wicca Horror Show on the east coast. Their staff disappeared at the same time. The leading theory is they were the ringleaders."

Colmy laughed heartily. "And for those of us who missed the bus, life goes on!"

So it does, Ridley thought, so it does.

Child of a Lonely Star (2)

 

Previous: A disintegrating ship arrives from the quarantined Aldebaran system. Moast and crew recognize it as a message from the sentient world Aldebaran C. 

The assembled space station clung beneath Orchidia's broad launch bay. Commander Moast climbed down and sealed the hatch behind him. "Ready for launch, Kyra," he said to the science officer on the distant bridge. Entirely automated, the station fired thrusters to insert itself into high orbit. This far from the planet, the entity would give up considerable power.

"Hoy, Commander! Jolly good digs, wot?"

The android guide for the world spirit appeared at Moast's side. The AI had taken Moast's instructions literally: since the android was custodian of a vast TV library, she had fashioned him after  British actor Bernard Fox, who played the butler Malcolm on the Andy Griffith show. 

"Of course," Malcolm added, "you may not recognize me the next time around. This goddess of yours may turn me into a tea cozy! Ha ha! Ho ha!"

"Right." Moast was about to page the library listing when he faced off with a frightening harridan. As his pulse settled, he said, "Orchidia, I liked the punkette you were modeling before. This one I wouldn't turn my back on." 

"A forbidding appearance is necessary to convey ours as the position of strength."

Malcolm chuckled. "Avatars, ey? Gotta love 'em!"

The two artificials eyed each other. 

"Right." Most scanned the mile-long list of reject titles, not having seen any of the vintage stuff. "Hmm. Dances With Wolves, Avatar, All In The Family."

"Anti Caucasian stereotypes," said the AI

"Everybody Loves Raymond, Home Improvement."

"Denigration of the father figure."

"She's very thorough," Malcolm said solemnly. 

Moast hit the panel com link. "Kyra, status of defense measures."

Her voice was tinny through all the shielding. "Shields are on millisecond rotating frequency. The planet-buster bomb is on standby. Hyper jump actuators are powered up." A pause. "I don't like the idea of leaving you behind."

"We'll play it by ear," Moast said. To the AI: send the RSVP." Beneath the station, colored lights rolled and flashed a complex message for an entity with no understanding of a spoken tongue.

"Here now," Malcolm said. "How shall we address the lady? Your Majesty? Your Grace?"

Moast crossed arms in the pose he'd greet her in, showing confidence he didn't feel. "This is Aldebaran C. We'll call her Cee." Seconds later, a figure materialized, leaving him speechless.

"It can't be. . . .this is exactly how I pictured a goddess."

The AI signaled a colorful greeting, one echoed by Malcolm. "This implies an ability to sense your thoughts. It will enhance communication."

"Most pleasing," the commander said with a cavalier nod of the head. The goddess deigned to return the gesture, though he wasn't sure she understood it.

"Curious," said Orchidia. "Despite immense power, her posture is one of supplication. You are key to future visits, a subject of all-consuming importance."

Unexpectedly, Cee conjured a small object and sent it floating toward Moast. Since the AI raised no alarm, he allowed it to settle on his hand. 

"Marvelous!" Malcolm crowed. "A tiny miniature of your ship, in ruby, no less!" 

"Impressive. She has transposed the gem from beneath the surface. The object is of permanent construct." The AI waited. "She expects something in return."

Moast knew what that was. The notion of taking her hand filled him with a vision of being absorbed like a data file. He forgot that she could sense his thoughts. From her lips came a bass tone of such intensity that he rushed hands to ears. Correcting her mistake, Cee switched to a softer tone of higher range, let it trail off like the  notes of a heroic opera.

"That I like," Moast said with a reassuring smile she probably did not understand. 

"The sonic gift is further assurance of fair play. Proceed with caution." Orchidia flashed a colored message, no doubt reminding the entity of the consequence of treachery. But again, was such a  human trait even comprehended by the soul of this world?

Moast drew near, noting a few colorful sparkles in the white gown.

"Apprehension. She does not want to harm such a delicate being."

"Outstanding." Moast forced his hand out, which Cee reached for. Hers was cold and wooden, but rapidly adjusted, becoming warm and pliant. There was even a bone structure. Suddenly he was assailed by a vivid memory: two woodpeckers in a sunlit tree, clinging to a windblown branch against a sky of startling blue. He had watched the scene for some minutes in awe of it.

Orchidia flashed warning colors, and Malcolm rushed to prop him up. 

"I'm okay," Moast said. "That was quite a memory tap." He returned to the com panel. "Kyra, stand down the weapon. Send a shuttle for me." He watched the goddess, who radiated colors of obvious relief. "Well, Malcolm," he said with a back slap. "So begins your job as genial host. Work on the hand clasp. In time, you might even venture a hug."

Malcolm glanced at the shimmering goddess. "Er. . . .yes sir. That is, sir, uh. . . .yes sir."

Child of a Lonely Star

 

They dubbed the mystery ship "Evil Twin"; not that it showed evil intent, but for being a half-scale copy of Orchidia. It didn't even survive its journey from the Aldebaran system. Other ships within Pluto Station backed away, weapons aimed, as the visitor began to wilt and come apart.

Portly Admiral Jacobs gaped out the panoramic window of Central Ops. "A plant? That thing is a plant?"

A junior officer hunched over his terminal, rapidly pulling up scans. "Mostly, sir, with enough metals for a drive unit. No one thought biologicals could bond with metal at the molecular level. It's almost like. . . ."

"Go on, Lieutenant."

"Like it was wished into existence."

Jacobs paced, watching enviro units clean up the mess. "Call up the file on Commander Moast's mission to Aldebaran."

Seconds later, the young man had the highlights. "Two crewmen died on the surface. When their duplicates tried to fly their shuttle back to Orchidia, Moast shot it down. He was about to launch a planet buster when the surface displayed colors the AI interpreted as contrition. He listed the system as of no interest, and recommended quarantine."

"Ah yes. The sentient world." Jacobs watched Orchidia already sailing toward the cleared portal hatch, one of thousands in the moon-sized sphere. The Builder artifact still wasn't completely explored.

"Wait one," the lieutenant said to an incoming message. "Admiral, Commander Moast requests clearance for departure to the Aldebaran star group."

"By all means," Jacobs said. "I can't wait to hear his explanation for this."

Orchidia exited the Aldebaran portal at a risky clip, artfully weaving through the asteroid belt. The Builders had a penchant for hiding the portals until the natives achieved space travel. Several hyperjumps shortened the trip toward the orange giant star and its only known planet until now.

At eleven times the mass of Jupiter, Aldebaran B orbited too close to the star to support life. Not so for Aldebaran C, sheltering in the umbra of B. Refracted light gave C a permanent state of twilight.

"Nuke me sideways," mused bearded navigator Chet.

The muscular helmsman Berl agreed. "No way that happened all by itself. "

Moast swiveled toward Science Officer Preston. "Seems like we're expected, Kyra. What do you make of those colors?"

"Joy," she began. "Hope, curiosity. And a proposal." She studied the spectral scanner. "More complex now. We'd better bring in the AI." 

Moast had speculated how the planet wanted to use his ship for seeking out and bringing other life here. Had that changed? The threat of a planet-smashing weapon still hung over the entity's head. "Orchidia, analysis." 

"No ethical center is apparent beyond cause and effect reasoning. Spoken language is an alien concept. Until our first visit, there was no awareness of other life. This has engendered loneliness. Stand by." After a pause: "Based on contact with the deceased crewmen, there is curiosity about touch."

"Commander," Kyra said, "you aren't planning on going down there. . . ."

"Not a chance. I propose a neutral ground. Orchidia, modify the orbital station as a culture center. Make sure the TV shows are free of propaganda, virtue signaling, and hypocrisy. Ready an android to serve as guide and companion. Instruct the entity to assume a form suitable for boarding."

Kyra's lips pursed in dismay. "You're going to meet her face to face? It's insane."

"I'm reminded of a line from a poem: Intrepidly into the void, I trow." 

"Trow?" Kyra looked up at the holo emitters. "Orchidia--"

"I trow: I speak truly. It is easier to pronounce than 'troth', which in turn requires fewer mouth muscles than 'truth'. These are examples of lazy speech that gives rise to dialects."

Moast entered the turbolift. "If the vocabulary lesson is over, we have a culture center to inspect."

"There's an end game to this. We aren't out here to entertain a sentient planet."

"We have a chance to learn how planets form. because this one can tell us. And a ship in distress can get parts conjured up quick. Temporary, maybe, but enough to see them home."

"If this entity can be trusted," Kyra reminded. She followed the commander into the corridor leading to the hangar deck. "Moast."

He stopped and looked back.

"We can get all these things without so much risk."

"You're convinced I'm going to take one?"

"Taking risks is how you came up the ranks. But this. . . .why?"

Moast shrugged. "Never held hands with a goddess before."

Morning Freewriting

Freewriting is all your own.  Express your thoughts as much as you want.  Call it a mental purging to reorganize the mind to get it in gear.  Worry not for grammar or detail, this is your journal time.  No one is going to be looking over your shoulder or grading your form of expression.    

Many people, whether they are a writer or artist or not, it helps in so many ways even in the profession you are in.   Try writing out a page or two, then throw them away. It's a way of letting go of issues that keep hanging on. When the new dawn comes, you can start again afresh and make your project shine as it is meant to be.    Once I get through the morning freewriting my storytelling or art is a much better flow.  Just let it go. Are you ready?  What's stopping you?     

Friday Writing Inspirations

 

Kids are at school and I am very thankful to have this moment granted to work on the book.  I get up and contemplate the scenes that need to be written with more attention.   Are you one of those writers?  Get the story out, then edit or revise?   My new routine is breakfast outside with the coffee mug with a snowman on it.  Do we really have 20 weeks left till Christmas?  Something to think about, or not.  I think I tend to order things online now that I am older and don't like crowds much.    

Topic today is on transitions in writing.    Once you churn out the details of the main idea of your manuscript,  transitions shift the mind gently to the next scene in sentences of the paragraph. Like a work of art that has elements to design, writing also has its own elements to make the piece flow.   Here is a video for thought on the focus of the craft in writing.

Lastly, enjoy working on your piece.  It is your niche, and don't forget the music if you need something to keep your creativity flowing today.  I am thinkin of something between heavy and moderate rock.  

Have a great Friday and good luck on your project!

Incident at the Dragon's Tongue

 

Khot, City of Thieves, in the Canal District

The Dragon's Tongue tavern sprawled drunkenly at the apex of an ancient conical tower. Chain bridges radiated from the landward side, linked with broad wooden plazas abuzz with commerce. Voices and gull calls augmented the rhythmic bang of a pile driver down in the boat yards.

A trio of thieves, the male burdened with a large sack, stepped onto the central plaza to take stock. Outwardly the tower looked serene against cold marbled skies on this winter morn. A milling crowd signaled trouble; they kept parting to allow casualties passage down the stairs.

The aproned tavern owner stumbled toward them. "Jili, you gotta do somethin'! Get in there and stop that big farm woman tearin' up the place!" He eyed the sack with mercenary interest. "I got a right to know what she wants with you." A sudden gust had him clutching the chain, whereas the sure-footed thieves never wavered. 

"Last moment change of plans," Jili said. "I was supposed to deliver this at Lunari, but Eolcan agents found out. I set up a meeting at the Lair, but they said they'd find me instead."

"And so they did! What. . . .are you supposed to hand over?"

Skuff wore his usual droopy-eyed sneer beneath his top knot. "It ain't safe to know that. Even we don't know. Ya'd think Jili had her dirty laundry in there."

"We'll handle it." Karla gave him a back slap, causing him to flinch before the mistress of blades. Onlookers made way for them, anticipating a new element of calamity. 

The trio climbed steep wood steps, where a few rowdies opened the doors with a mocking flourish. A dingy passage led down to a garish red velvet vestibule. Its curtain was pulled aside on a scene of comical destruction; comical because of the overhead balconies, whose denizens enjoyed the show, once they realized the brawler had no interest in them. 

"Way, way out," Karla mused as she navigated busted chairs and overturned tables. Patrons overhead shouted down taunts about their chances against the fighting whirlwind behind the bar.

Said whirlwind, wearing a simple dress and head wrap, watched them with arms folded. Most of the bottles behind her were shattered, infusing the air with the smell of ale and beer. 

Jili righted a table and chairs, and Skuff dropped the sack there. He slapped the boards. "What's somebody gotta do for a little service?" He took the middle seat, watched the amazon swing legs over the counter, whereupon she took a seat opposite them.

"Only a Red Claw," Jili said, "would pull a stunt like this, and there's only one who'd be interested. It's been awhile, Caladra." 

The Red Claw leader pulled off the wrap, showing the tinted white hair of her tree-dwelling culture. 

She looked inside the sack with pained reverence. "I never thought to see Eiridne's armor again, since that day you poisoned her, and she passed command to me."

Skuff began thunking his dagger ever closer to her hand.

"I was only a child," Jili countered. "What would you have done when commandos swooped in to kidnap you?"

"Our mission was to kill you," Caladra reminded, "because you're prophesied to destroy the empire. Now I'm an unwitting part of the conspiracy that brought you here. You're supposed to be serving the empire, not the king of thieves."

Skuff's blade thunked perilously close to her hand. With a swift backhand, she snapped off the blade. "Hey, nobody breaks my pig sticker without payin' a price--" He didn't reckon on the amazon's long legs, which upended his chair and spilled him out. He rolled backwards to riotous laughter. Then he returned to his place as if nothing had happened.

"Skuff. . . ." Jili closed eyes in exasperation.

"What about that thing about having the armor?" Karla asked. It was normally a death sentence once the amazons caught up to you.

"I trust," Caladra said, "it was not at any time displayed for ghoulish amusement." The wrong thing said here would start another round of destruction.

"No one has seen it." Jili waited.

Caladra rose and shouldered the sack. A few observers fled back upstairs. "This will be delivered in state at our base in Daumastia. Thence it will occupy the most honored place in the Hall of Heroes."

The group made their way outside to the spidery network of bridges and broad plazas. Crowds took shelter under awnings when a wyvern wheeled in from over the river. Its pilot set down precariously on the sea wall. 

Caladra's parting look spoke of a never-ending concern.

"I know," Jili said. "Eiridne's daughter must never find out about me. I don't relish a fight with a tier six sorceress."

After the wyvern took wing with its passenger, one of the cafe owners trotted gingerly across a bridge, a covered tray in his arms. "Jili, this for you! Thanks for getting rid of that lunatic amazon. All my customers were out here watching the fun, and I'm going broke!"

Skuff parted a fold with the stump of his dagger. "What this sheep dump?"

"Eastern cuisine!" the chef protested. "Cabbage rolls with brown mustard and cinnamon. Yak ribs with honey and cherry sauce."

"Sold." Karla took the bundle. Having fled a privileged life, she was familiar with the finer things. "Let's find a hidey hole and dig in. Since we got nothing for the armor, the day isn't a total loss."