Tag: Einar

Medieval Monday: Archery

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I’ve always been fascinated by medieval archery.  It is a skill I would love to learn one day, but until then, I’ll just have to shoot vicariously through my book characters and marvel at the real-life abilities of others.

archer detailSeveral types of bows were in use during the Middle Ages.  The short bow was predominant during what we would consider the Dark Ages, but mainly for hunting.  It was not an especially powerful weapon, and had difficulty going through battle armor.

Crossbows came into use after the 11th century and were more powerful and more accurate.  They could shoot 100 meters further than the short bow.  However, there was some controversy surrounding the crossbow’s use.  The Lateran Council of 1139 put a ruling into effect that would excommunicate anyone using a crossbow against Catholics or Christians.  Even though this was not generally enforced, there were still consequences for using one.  One source I found cited that “despite the eagerness of most kings to use crossbowmen and despite the wage of a crossbowman being twice that of normal footsoldiers in France, they were treated as common criminals if ever captured in battle.  In fact, during the Baronial revolt, when one baronial garrison surrendered to King John, he was willing to ransom all men-at-arms except crossbowmen, whom he ordered to be hung for killing so many knights.”

By the 13th century, it had been refined and reduced in size, becoming a popular weapon for hunting that could be used while on horseback.

Archer1The bow that really changed history was the longbow, which could shoot long distances and was powerful enough to penetrate all types of armor.  A law was passed by Henry I declaring that any archer who killed a man when practicing should be absolved. Mandatory archery practices were enforced under the orders of Edward III.  And in 1365 good archers were of such value that a royal license had to be granted before any archer was permitted to leave England.

Enjoy this short video where medieval weapons expert Kevin Hicks demonstrates how to handle the longbow—an amazingly graceful, fast, and deadly weapon. I really want one of these!

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Sneak Peek Friday

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Every Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books. Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from my upcoming novella, Into the Shadow Wood, which is expected to be released this spring.

The darkness around me was so thick, it seemed to cling to my skin like stench-filled scum from a stagnant pond.  It was soaked into my hair, my clothes.  I was breathing it, allowing it to work its way in and through my body.  I had eaten from its sickly bounty to supplement our meager provisions.  It pressed my mind near to madness, stoking the fires of my inner violence, my anger and hatred toward Braeden and those who had wronged me—far beyond the desire for mere justice.  Would any bath be able to wash me clean again?  Would any purity of air be enough to draw the darkness from my body, without leaving a residue of its horrors behind to torment me for the rest of my days?  If one day I chose to accept my commander’s prayers on my behalf, and actually believe that there was a force of good stronger than all of this misery around me, would it even accept me?

There were still many hours of daylight left when I realized the wood had become darker than it ought to be.  It was almost as if we had hit a thick cloud, or a black fog, rising up from the ground, penetrating everything. Alaric paused, not wanting to press deeper into it, but my commander became excited.  His eyes were wide, and fixed into the darkness ahead.  A smile crossed his lips.  I could not tell if there was anything lucid behind it, or if he had finally crossed over the threshold.  He slowly drew his sword.  The rasp of it pulling away from the sheath seemed alarmingly loud.  Anyone who could hear that sound would recognize it.  I lifted my bow and readied an arrow against it in response to the tension pulling his muscles tight.  I feared that in his crazed state, he might suddenly turn on me and force me to defend myself against him.  Alaric no doubt had the same thought.  He watched our commander nervously and withdrew his weapon also. But in all the battles we had fought together, however hopeless they were, I had never seen his hand shake upon the hilt as it was shaking now. Something was about to happen.

Through the haze, I saw a red-yellow glow.  A torch?  A distant fire?  I squinted, trying to distinguish form from shadow, but everything was muddled and in motion.  Two red lights appeared, like burning coals; then two more, then four more.  I heard a low, threatening growl that set my heart racing.  A smoky howl lifted up, hanging suspended on the air as though it was a living thing of its own.  My blood chilled and a heavy sense of dread came over me.  Hounds.  My greatest fear upon entering this wood was that we would encounter them and their master.  This was their domain, and as far as I knew, no man who had stood against them in battle had lived to tell about it.  They were circling us, surrounding us, just as they had surrounded Nevon.  And it was too late to run.

Meet Einar for the first time in Journey to Aviad, now FREE as an ebook.

MEET JOURNEY TO AVIAD’S CHARACTERS

Book 1JOURNEY TO AVIAD

The Wind Rider Chronicles Book 1

Threatening clouds and fierce storms besiege the city of Tyroc. More frequent and powerful than ordinary storms, young Elowyn, a weaver’s daughter living in the outskirts of the city, senses something disturbing and unnatural about them. READ MORE

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Sneak Peek Friday

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JTA BC 150Every Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books.  Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from Ancient Voices: Into the Depths, which was just released in November.

Amazon     BN     Smashwords     Createspace

Elowyn was startled out of sleep by a rapping on the door. She opened her eyes and looked up to see herbs and dried fish hanging from the rafters above her. She was lying on a mat next to an open hearth, and there was a large loom against the far wall. Her mother’s loom. She sat up and looked around. She was back in Tyroc. Morganne and Adelin were not there, and the knocking at the door was becoming more forceful by the minute.

Her heart jumped as a huge clap of thunder suddenly shook the cottage, and a torrent of rain began to dash against the walls and roof. She stared at the door, terrified. Had the apparition of Nevon returned to torment her? Or was something more sinister lurking on the other side of the door? Another crack of thunder erupted from the sky, then rumbled low and long like a throaty growl. As the thunder trailed off, Elowyn thought she could hear something sniffing and scratching at the crack under the door. The banging continued more urgently, now made by something much harder than a human hand. The intruder was no longer knocking, but trying to break the door down.

The coin! Elowyn snatched her pouch from its hook on the wall and held it tightly to her chest. She had to make sure the coin nestled within it was safe. She flung aside the heavy curtain that led to her mother’s sleeping area, prepared to face her wrath. But her mother wasn’t there. The cottage had vanished, and Elowyn found herself standing in a cold, damp place, blinded by sheer darkness. She reached her hands out and a rough stone wall greeted her fingertips. After a few moments of fumbling with her tinder box and a stump of candle, she managed to light a small flame. She was in the underground shelter that Einar had once shown her. The heavy door on the other side of the room was barred shut from the inside.

Another deep boom of thunder and the pelting sound of heavy rain filled her ears. Something was very wrong. So far below ground, surrounded by thick, impenetrable walls, she should not have been able to hear either. Besides, this place was no longer safe now that Braeden knew about it. Elowyn began to panic. There was nothing to sustain her here—no food, water, blankets or source of heat. What frightened her more was the thought of what might be lying in wait on the outside. Were the Hounds camped just above her, waiting for her to emerge?

“Einar!” She called out in desperation, clenching the coin tightly in her fist. “Where are you?” Elowyn’s strained plea echoed off the bare walls, met only by an empty, frightening silence. Einar was not going to come…not this time. She was utterly alone, and no one who could help her knew where she was.

Suddenly there was a slow, ominous tapping at the door. Elowyn refused to answer, silently pressing herself into the farthest corner of the shelter. The tapping turned to persistent knocking, then banging, then pounding, so hard that even the massive door of the shelter shuddered with the force of it. Elowyn covered her ears to no avail as the pounding grew louder and louder. Boom!

Elowyn finally woke with her heart racing. Her throat was dry, but the rest of her was drenched in a nervous sweat. A storm was raging outside; a real, mountain-made spring storm, not one conjured by Braeden. One of the shutters had come loose and was banging hard against the wall. She got up and managed to secure it even though her hands were shaking. Morganne and Adelin were enjoying a deep, peaceful sleep, completely unaware of the turmoil going on around them.

MEET ANCIENT VOICES: INTO THE DEPTHS’ CHARACTERS

Sneak Peek Friday

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Every Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books. Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from my upcoming novella, Into the Shadow Wood, which is expected to be released this spring.

From my belt I untied a small, worn cloth bag with the name Elowyn stitched across the front.  It still gave off a light fragrance of herbs and flowers, though that scent was finally beginning to fade.  The memory of the young girl who had given it to me did not.  She had unwittingly been caught up in this quest just as I had.  It was she who had discovered Nevon’s lost helm, bow, and arrows, and had read the signs of his final struggle written across the forest floor.  Without her, we never would have known what had become of him.  Her near death encounter with one of the Hounds had driven her into my path, and though I saved her that day, there were other things I could not protect her from.  What she found, and her dealings with me no doubt left some unintended wounds on her tender soul.  If it were possible, I would have wiped them all away and preserved her child-like innocence for a while longer.  She had thrust the bag into my hand on the day we parted ways; a gesture of affection and forgiveness.  It was the day we prepared to enter this evil wood.

What she had given me was a protection pouch, filled with dried plants and herbs that were supposed to ward off evil spirits. Many people wore them without thought, and such bags were quite common, though I had never really believed they held any power. But there was something special about this bag. Not that I had any delusions about its effectiveness against malevolent spirits—no bag of herbs would be any match for the depth of evil that resided here. It brought me comfort just the same. The floral aroma helped my mind escape to a better place; to gardens I had once known in less trying times, before the Sovereign had died and Braeden had taken his place…to meadows full of colorful wildflowers, waving greeting to me on a warm breeze. It helped me to remember the blue sky, and the sounds of the ocean, the spray on my face and the sun’s warmth on my skin. It helped me remember a world worth loving. A world worth saving.

It had become all too easy to believe that the Shadow Wood’s persistent darkness was the only thing that remained, that everything else had been swallowed into the empty void of its insatiable belly. But that common, simple little pouch was the most powerful reminder to me that it was not true. My commander had his prayers to ground his sanity. This was my connection to reality. Something real that I could feel, and smell, and grasp in my hand. And with it always came to my mind the image of a girl’s rapt little face, peering up at me with wells of blue that so readily spilled out the depths of her soul—joy, hope, forgiveness, and pain. Everything. If I could just hang onto that, there might be something left of my own soul to save if we ever escaped the Shadow Wood alive.

 

Meet Einar for the first time in Journey to Aviad, now FREE as an ebook.

MEET JOURNEY TO AVIAD’S CHARACTERS

Book 1JOURNEY TO AVIAD

The Wind Rider Chronicles Book 1

Threatening clouds and fierce storms besiege the city of Tyroc. More frequent and powerful than ordinary storms, young Elowyn, a weaver’s daughter living in the outskirts of the city, senses something disturbing and unnatural about them. READ MORE

Amazon     BN     Smashwords     Createspace

 

Sneak Peek Friday

Leave a comment

JourneytoAviadEvery Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books.  Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from Journey to Aviad, which is now permafree as an ebook. So if you haven’t read it yet, what’s holding you back?

Amazon     Barnes and Noble     Smashwords

More than anything Elowyn wanted to run from there. But now she realized the danger she had put herself in. If she were caught spying, what would they do to her? This was nothing like the execution she had witnessed in Tyroc, where the crowds cheered mindlessly and went on with their business. The camp was so quiet that any movement at all would betray her presence. She looked at the faces of the men. They were somber, reflective. They did not hunger for this man’s demise like the crowds who merely saw death as some form of grisly entertainment. They had all voted to put this man to death, this man who was once one of their own. They took it seriously—they meant it. They were fully aware of what they were doing.

Elowyn wished that she had never followed Einar; indeed, that she had never known him at all. He had looked that man in the eye as he drew his arrows back. It was with satisfaction that he let them fly. There had been no hesitation in his movements, no sense of remorse or sorrow in his voice. Perhaps this group was indeed no more than a bunch of murderous outlaws after all. She lay there not moving while the body was taken down and buried, while the men sat and spoke with each other in hushed tones. She lay there until the torches were snuffed out, the fire banked, and the camp made ready for sleeping, with only a few sentries on duty to keep watch. Her muscles were stiff and sore, but she held perfectly still until eventually her nerve broke.

When she thought no one was near enough to notice, she dashed as quickly and quietly as she could into the wood. There she ran blindly through the dark as though the whole of the camp pursued her, not caring that thorns and branches clawed mercilessly at her skin all the way. When she tripped on roots or stones, she picked herself up and went on. At last when she felt that she could run no more, not even to save her own life, she sought shelter in the nearest suitable tree. She knew not where she was, and she could hear the Hounds baying to each other in the distance. Terrified and shaking, there was nothing more for her to do but sit and wait and hope for the dawn.

MEET JOURNEY TO AVIAD’S CHARACTERS