#SaturdayScenes #KillMatch

Good evening all! 

(I should really be saying good morning with the time...)

I know I am exactly one hour and forty-four minutes late on my Saturday Scene but, it is better late than never. I'm exhausted and honestly my brains a little mushy right now for a long blog post. Instead, here is my scene from my new WIP Kill Match: A Gladiatrix Story. It is rough and unedited, my apologies in advance.

*

I kept my face as steady as I could, but they both saw the shock before I could mask it.

“Well, thank you for that Alexander. I’m glad we got that out of the way and after the training fight. Same time tomorrow then?” He turned to me and I realized he was waiting for a response.

“No, tomorrow is my dusk practice. I am going home tonight.” I tried to sound professional but still stern enough that they would see I didn’t want to change my already set schedule. He simply nodded.

“Fine. We will practice at dusk, then you and I shall have dinner. I want to hear about the tactics you’ve already learned and where you think your weak points are.”

Before I could respond again he swept out of the room, his pants billowing as he walked,, quickly acknowledging Alexander on his way. I watched him go, and realized what I had missed when he had entered. His gait was one of power and pride. Only the Etruscan’s son could walk like that in Kardia. No one else had known such privilege.

“I see your mind, Ferus. He is not who you think him to be. I would at least give him a few days’ time before you completely disregard his humanity.”

A smirk lit my face at the sound of my nickname. As a child I had been ruthless against my Lanista and because of the promise I held in the arena he had let me get away with having a bigger personality than most Gladiators. I was also the first female he had ever had to deal with and as one of his many coping mechanisms he took to call me the loving nickname of Ferus. It meant untamed.  I rolled my neck to each side, buying time for my response.

“I care not for who he is and is not. The Etruscan’s son can be whomever he pleases and as such it is not my place to mind his chosen path. Besides, by the time he is fully trained I will be back in the Dust Bowl where I belong. Thank you for staying around long enough for that.”

He scoffed.

“Do not take me so lightly, warrior. I did not have a say in what is taking place. It was  aggressively suggested to me.” He moved to slide past me, his robe brushing my feet before he abruptly stopped. “Perhaps when my retirement comes I will join you in the Dust Bowl. For if the greatest fighter I have ever known belongs in such a place, surely I would find my presence there just as comfortable.”

He walked out, not even turning to see my mouth gaping open. The image of my Lanista amongst my family would be funny if it weren’t such a terrifying thought. For anyone who wasn’t used to the power he exuded they would be wary and frightened in his presence. Alexander couldn’t possibly think he truly belonged in the outer villages. With everything that had happened I couldn’t think about if he was being serious or not. I needed to get out of these walls leaving behind my Lanista and his overly eager replacement.

I cleaned up any pieces of wrap that had fallen to the floor during the fight then headed out toward my room on the third floor. With each cold stone step to the top I could feel the scratches that laced my feet. The feet had been tempered, and basically no damage had been done to either of us. But that didn’t take away from the pain that laced from skin hitting skin at half force. It still hurt like Hell, practice fighting or no. I walked into my room to catch three maids tidying up the space. My nursemaid, Gemma, was among them preparing a bag for my night back home.

“Did you put together another from the kitchen?”

She sighed at my voice, not having realized I was behind her.

“Yes. Just like every time before. You think I am incapable of taking care of you when I have done it your whole life.”

She hadn’t taken care of me my whole life, just the last twelve years. Instead of pointing out that fact, again, I changed the subject.

“Did you know that the Price was taking over for Alexander?”

Her tired hands stopped, the shaking in them minute, before they rushed on putting a jacket in the bag.

“Gemma! You knew. You terrible, retched liar! You knew this whole time and kept it from me? I thought we were family.”

That always got to her. She was my family but ever since being a child I had outwardly rejected the notion and it always bothered here. I had wanted someone to feel the pain I did and Gemma had been the unfortunate target of my overly dramatic emotions growing up. A frown deepened into the lines of her face and her hands flew to her hips.

“No, don’t you dare start with all of that again. You are far too old to be messing with an aging woman’s feelings. You know that you’re a daughter to me, but Nero is like my son.”

I gasped knowing I didn’t need to be stoic or closed in with Gemma.

“Don’t you look like that. It isn’t a secret that I’ve raised you both. If you wouldn’t be so self centered you could have found out sooner. Nero has lived on the second floor of this sanctuary since you came here and shortly after his mother died. Alexander wanted to keep the two of you separate. Nero was told the rules to avoid you when he begged to live here and as it seems he’s been doing a lovely job of it. But I guess the cats out of the bag now.” A smirk lit her face.

“You think this is funny? That a ruthless King’s only son is now in charge of over a dozen of the best fighters in Kardia? I’m sorry but I can’t seem to find the humor in my situation.”

I grabbed my boots from the underside of the bed, roughly putting them onto my feet, my sore skin screaming at me in horror. The smile disappeared from Gemma.

“Well, that answers the question of if you’ve even talked to him. He’s not his father Libby. And it would do you good in life to learn not to always read the book by the cover. Nero is not his father.”

I snorted. She knew I hated the reading references and used them whenever she was irritated with my behavior. I grabbed the bag from the bed and walked towards the door.

“You of all people should know that the picture is the only thing I can read.”

#SaturdayScenes #TheBeginning

I'm posting this rather late. Okay, it's only 9pm PST but it's later than I would have liked. I am working on a new serial for Saturday Scenes and I was trying to get the first chapter ready to be posted. Although I tried it's not ready yet. I'm new to writing serials and I want it to be at least edited before I start posting them.

Instead tonight I am posting a scene from my novelette, The Beginning. This story takes place before my novel Red and is the introduction for my Guarding the Vila series. Right now it is being offered on amazon for .99! Red is offered at $2.99 currently. Here's the links:

The Beginning
Red

I am also offering free copies of both books (epub,mobi or PDF) for anyone who would be willing to review them. Please email me at ladieswhowritesg@gmail.com if you're interested.

:) Happy Reading everyone!

*

Dawn had yet to approach, the last echoes of night pushing on the window. I tried to prepare myself as best as I could for the day that lay ahead. My skirts had been worn for days, showing dirt and wear in every seam. I straightened them anyway, frustrated that I would die in rags. My face, hair and nails were so filthy, I looked like a beggar. I scrubbed at myself with such vigor that my once pale skin turned pink and raw. The water pooled black in the small wash bin, salted tears streaming down my face to meet the dark shallows. I pulled away, disgusted with the person I would die as. I grabbed my hooded red cape from the bed, the one Grandmere had made special, just to match the tones in my hair, and put it on to hide any emotion that may cross my face today. When there was nothing else to be done, I simply sat on the cot and waited, eyes too dry to cry any longer. I considered all of the things I could have done differently to prevent this whole mess. I continued to remind myself that this wasn’t entirely my fault. There were things I could not have changed no matter what I had done.

Bernard came to get me and my stoicism shattered into pieces. I didn’t want to die this way, in front of everyone and with such shame. I hadn’t had enough time in my life to do anything worth remembering. This would be the only thing left of me, of my family name. Bernard held a small amount of pity in his gray eyes, only making me want to beg him until that pity took over and he let me go.

“Bernard, please.” I choked. He paused for just a moment, hope rising from the pit of my stomach.

“Girl, there is nothing to be done. This is the only way; the peacekeeper has said so. Crying and begging are not going to help you.”

The tender eyes he had held just seconds before were now blistered in determination. I knew I had lost him and with that admittance, the only hope I had left was brutally wiped clean.

I fought, Bernard’s rough hands overpowering me easily, tying my hands up in knots. He grabbed the lead that had been left between them and pulled me from the room and out of the hall. The high sun burned my eyes and made them water when I was sure they were dried to the bone. I could only imagine the harsh red that had encased my normally pale skin. I looked around, wanting to find someone familiar but only saw strangers. I couldn’t find a single friendly face, one that I had known my whole life. I didn’t know these people anymore. We walked past them and they scrambled to quickly pile in behind us, loud whispers filling the air.

“I heard she killed them with her bare hands then fed them to the wolves. All to maintain her beauty. That’s why her hair is red. It’s from all the blood she has spilt. It is her cost for using magic.”

“Well, I heard she took a wolf as a lover. When her Mama promised her to Jacques, and then to Claude, she had to kill them and her lover was more than happy to help.”

“No, no, her Grandmere was a wolf. She was trying to protect her from the others. That is why no one has found the body—because she’s still out there, alive.”

The lies swirled, causing brilliant storms of rage to take over my sight. All I could manage to think was that if I was a witch, I would have already burned them all. How could these people, whom I had known my whole life, turn on me in a moment’s notice? I survived a horrible ordeal only to be met with another and they were gossiping like children! They imprisoned me because I survived. Because one man, consumed by grief, held hatred towards me while the town’s rumors simply fueled the fire. They should have been the ones to stand trial. I knew my thoughts showed clearly on my face when the people closest to me began to slowly move away. A circle of space was growing around Bernard and me. No one wanted to be near a witch when she was angry, and at that point I was almost glad for the rumors.

Through the trees just ahead I could see the glisten of Esperer Lake, the closest body of water to our village. The same one we would watch our Mama’s wash our clothing in as children. My feet stopped of their own volition, not wanting to take another step towards the water. Bernard tugged on my wrists trying to force my movement until I yelled with pain from the burn of the rope.

“Come now, girl. The more you struggle, the more they’ll think you’re a witch!”

I didn’t care what anyone thought at that moment. All I wanted to do was run as far and as fast as I could away from these people and from what they were going to do to me. I didn’t want to be tested. I didn’t want to drown. But the ropes burned so badly that I finally took a few steps forward and again when I couldn’t take the pain once more. That’s how we made our way to the water, him tugging until I yelped and me holding out as long as I possibly could.

By the time we finally reached Andre, the whole town had formed around to witness the events, mumbling under their breaths about the slow pace I was keeping. I was shocked he would come to ensure this horrific event take place. Betrayal tore through me and I Bernard and Andre pulled me down the rickety planks that floated atop the lake. They finally got me to the edge of the walkway just as the sun reached its peak. Bernard pulled out more twine and encircled my ankles and hands once more, taking the necessary time to ensure the bonds would not break. When he was satisfied that I was securely tied he nodded to Andre. The old man turned to address the crowd.

“We are here to test the crimes of Scarlett Chasseur, to see whether or not she is indeed a witch. The proceedings of submersion will go as follows: If she floats on the surface, while being bound, it is shown that Satan has filled her soul with buoyancy. At this point she will be found guilty and put to death by fire, as chosen by the butcher. If she sinks to the bottom of the lake, her innocence will be proven and she will be pardoned. Let us not drag out this terrible ordeal. Bernard, please begin.”

No sooner than the last words were out of his mouth did Bernard pull me to face him, his massive eyes turning cold. He quickly shoved me backwards, over the edge, before even a scream could erupt from my throat. Water overtook me as I struggled to reach the surface. My body burned with the need for air, and panic clouded my senses. The water seemed to be the last enemy I would ever face. They had won. The realization dawned on me that I was sinking to the bottom, and if I hadn’t been dying I would have laughed at the irony. I passed their test. I opened my mouth, wanting to scream in frustration and injustice, my body flailing with the need to survive. Water engulfed my lungs and took over every empty space inside of me. I was covered in it. I blinked my eyes rapidly, clawing at the incessant drops that touched me, burning from the inside out. Darkness was taking over my vision but from the corner of my eyes I thought I could see Grandmere’s form floating towards me in the distance. I reached my bound hands toward her in a last instinct of survival before the water’s depths took me.

#SaturdayScenes #KillMatch

Hello Everyone! 

My #SaturdayScene today is rather short. This is my current WIP and I haven't gotten enough worked out to really give much else this week, but true to my resolutions I want to post every Saturday so I needed something. In this scene Libraria has noticed the boy who took her sister is in the market and she is determined to make him pay for selling her sister off to be a Gladiatrix (a female Gladiator).

This is a Dystopian Fantasy book that touches on grief, war and the ability for humans to completely disregard one another for the sake of saving themselves.

Enjoy!

*

I ran him down, taking in deep breaths like I had been trained to do whenever my heart rate rose. I needed to get to him before he reached the safety of his training ground. Once he was in their doors, I would lose. Again. I was stunned to see him out, sure that it was just my undying want instead of reality. But, there he was, true as the dust in our city. He was an idiot. 

I seethed, smoke practically sizzling off of me at the sight of him. He had taken her, selling her into the ring. The only way to make things right would be to beat him into a pulp before I figured out a way to rescue my sister. This wasn’t allowed within the city and if I was caught it would mean certain death, but I didn’t care. If I caught him now, I wouldn’t come back. I would find my sister and my family and run into the abyss that was the desert. I would refuge somewhere else or die trying but our ragged Etruscan would not be the one to determine my fate.

I would have been satisfied, complacent even, fighting their battles every week until I was old enough to be let go. I would have lived peacefully. But he had brought my sister into this, against all rules that only one child per family would be taken and his Lanista had made an exception. I was going to spend the rest of my life making them regret it. Rules weren't meant to be broken, unless you were going to break them all. 

I pumped my legs harder, gaining ground and seeing the tiny mark of a tattoo peak above his tunic. He turned his head just enough to notice I was still following before he kicked it up a notch. He was small and undeniably fast. He knew what he was doing when he had shown his face in the marketplace and looked to be enjoying this. He didn’t fear me the way he ought to and that only made me angrier. The harsh stone of his Lanista's home came into view. He was going to get away. I slowed my pace, watching him get further and further from me. I quickly search around me, thankfully finding exactly what I needed. If I couldn't beat him into submission, I would at least cost him something. The stone sailed true as lightening and a sickening thud echoed as it hit his neck. He staggered, eating dirt just in front of his safe haven. It wasn't worth taking the chance of his someone in his house seeing me so I stayed in the shadows of the building beside me, waiting. I sat until the sun reached its peak. He didn't get up.

  

Nero came into my quarters a little past sunset. His mouth was puckered into a frown that could have won a spot in the theater. I resumed pulling off my boots ignoring his presence entirely. He continued watching me and I grew irritated with his judgement. I sighed deep, throwing the ragged heel of my boot to the ground. A deep bang surrounded us, dirt falling to the floor and I sighed again, fed up with the quiet.

“What do you want?” His frown deepened even further, which moments before had seemed impossible.

“Heath was found at his doorstep today unconscious. When asked what had happened he said he was ran down, then struck in the back. He said he couldn't remember who had done it, but you and I both know who everyone is suspecting.” 

His eyes narrowed, threatening me to deny it. I stood, needing to gain any headway against the giant that he was, and shrugged him off.

“At least he had good enough sense not to rat me out. I was sure that little pig would squeal as soon as he woke up. But then he wouldn't get his beloved Kill Match. I guess he does have a heart somewhere.” I went to walk past Nero but his arm shot out, the muscles pulsing as they stopped me at the shoulder.

“This isn't a game Libraria. The minute anyone in the empire believes you are trying to break their rules, that you are trying to best them, he will kill us all. This isn't just about you anymore, so don't you dare drag the rest of us down with you after you've asked for my help. At the very least, think of your sister.” 

I roughly shook off his hand, deliberately pushing my shoulder into his side while walking around him. I turned to him, seething.

“That’s all I think about.” I spat before I turned and headed out of the room.

Resolutions... Sort of

I'm terrible at New Years Resolutions, mainly because I believe everyday, no matter the time of the year, is meant for goals. I always try to better myself and find new things to learn. It just so happens I'm turning sappy in my old age and I have decided that I'm going to make some goals vocal... on the internet. 

Sigh

The world is changing and I can't help but fall to some of its magical inventions. :)

So, here's my resolutions for 2015:

1. I want to be more active on G+ and through my blog. I'll also want to post more on my wordpress and author facebook page, but those are only secondary to the first two. I'm going to struggle, trying to find things I believe are worth typing down and letting go of some of the fear that people are going to hate what I have to say. It is also tough for me to want to reach out to people, not because I dislike networking but because I feel awkward doing so. I'm used to talking to people face-to-face and it is going to take a lot of practice for me to get past that. 

2. I need to button down on finishing multiple projects and writing at least one hour everyday. To do this I am going to research ways to grasp time management and figure out a plan of how to map this out. Also, I want to strive to publish two novels (Riding and Kill Match) and a novella (Unknown) by the end of the year. I want to do all of this no later than October. 

3. I am going to research better and more productive ways to market my novels. I need a better strategy for book launches and to learn how to network more efficiently. I feel like this is an area that I could vastly improve on. 

4. I want to join an in person writing group. Every time I try to do this I chicken out. 2015 is my year!

and finally 

5. I want to grow an audience. My first step towards this is participating in Saturday Scenes every week. I also want to look into doing conventions for authors/readers and look for events that I think my genre will fit in. I know that I will need to get more comfortable talking about what I do and be able to promote myself flawlessly. This is going to take me knowing myself and my writing inside and out. 

Of course there are other things pertaining to friendships and health but these are my writing goals. Needless to say I am looking forward to 2015. I would love to hear everyone else's goals too!