And now for the long awaited party I mean snippets I promised you!
The time has come, the blogger said, to take you on some trips
Through NaNo! Clouds and sirens, and Royal Sky Navy Ships!
Or something like that.
I hope you enjoy this glimpse at my YA Steampunk-Fantasy Little-Mermaid(-ish) 2017 NaNo novel, The Siren and the Skyship . . .
Snippets
“Skyship off the starboard bow!” cried the lookout.
Auren wondered a) how the lookout had managed to see anything in this abysmal weather, and b) how anyone could possibly hear him.
* * *
In the mellow lamp-light in her cabin, Tasmania’s fine penmanship filled white pages with ink as black as the night the skyship was currently sailing through.
Nearly died today. Again.
Otherwise an uneventful day.
* * *
Rook crouched forward astride the dragon, keeping Emmy safely in front of him with his arms to either side of her as he steered the clockwork dragon into the night. He did not know if they had been spotted in the light from the explosion, or if they were being followed, and he did not intend to stick around to find out. Protect Emmy.
Navyman and girl flew with all speed through the clouds and mist, wind in their faces blowing back her fair hair, and what had escaped from the tie he kept his long dark hair tied back with. The barest silver crescent of the moon emerged from the clouds above and radiated soft white light into the dark night, gleaming on the metal of the clockwork dragon’s beating wings, and showing the looming forms of several dark stone pillars rising up in the night.
* * *
“And we’ll just be careful.”
“Always,” Tasmania said cheerfully.
“Says my reckless captain,” Gerias said, but he smiled as he said it.
“When was I ever reckless?” Tasmania said, and she breezed out the door on her way to some breakfast and tea.
* * *
Tasmania swiveled back toward Rook.
“Stirling Rook,” he said.
She frowned, looking somewhat confused. “What about him?”
“He’s me,” Rook said, knowing there was probably something wrong with the way this conversation was going, but not quite sure he had the brain power to rectify the situation.
Captain Tasmania blinked, then folded her arms and shook her head. “Impossible. Can’t be. He’s dead.”
Rook raised his eyebrows. “News to me…” he muttered. “I mean, I feel terrible, but not that terrible…”
* * *
Before Captain Tasmania could ask any more questions, a tall man with blond hair and a chiseled jaw, in an officer’s uniform, came down the steps into the infirmary room.
“Captain, you’re wanted on deck,” he said. “And how is my patient?”
“Fine,” Rook rasped warily, looking at the man.
“Mr. Rook,” Tasmania said, “this is Gerias Bridgington-Cramley, the First Mate and Medic aboard the Star Dreamer. Gerias, we have a name to our mysterious rescue: this is Stirling Rook.”
Gerias’s blond eyebrows raised. “The Stirling Rook? Admiral Rook’s son?”
Rook sighed. Not this again. “Yes.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“So I keep hearing,” Rook said.
* * *
“Why, oh, why, can’t I touch things!” Auren howled in exasperation and panic. He thought he was slowing her fall just a little, but not stopping it. The skyship was out of sight above them, obscured by clouds, and she was rapidly falling straight toward whatever was below the next batch of clouds. Auren hoped, for Tasmania’s sake, that it was one of the rope nets…
No such luck. They were near a net stretched between two pillars, with grass growing on the tops of the rock, but the trajectory of her course was aimed straight for the pillar or, worst case scenario, even down beyond that to who-knew-what—probably jagged rock or maybe a crevice down into no-man’s-land.
All Auren could think was: She’s going to die. Tasmania’s going to die and I can’t save her. And that was when he realized. I love her. It was completely a miserable thought to have at a moment like this, and extremely inconvenient too. Why did he have to care so much? But he couldn’t stop it now. Determination and anger flowed through him. He wouldn’t let it happen.
Auren bent his entire will and all his thought and strength toward becoming a wind, pushing her up, slowing her descent, fighting the air currents with wind of his own, fighting them to keep his Tasmania alive.
And as he did, he sang.
He sang with all his heart, siren song words which welled up from somewhere deep inside of him, half lullaby, half war song—a song to keep the most tired soldier fighting, to wake and put to sleep a child all at once, to say You are safe in my arms—let’s fly together, and don’t worry about anything.
Every part of his mind and wispy-wind-like body strained as hard as he possibly could and—he—slowed—her—down.
His nearly insubstantial touch that had never been able to hold anything, held her, stopped her fall, and, still singing, he slowly, gently, ever so gently, laid her very softly to rest on the green sward of grass at the top of the mist-wreathed pillar of rock.
* * *
Auren woke to find Rook standing by the side of the bunk bed, arms folded, looking down at him.
Auren stretched and yawned. “ ’Morning?” he said.
“Are you an assassin?” Rook asked calmly.
Auren blinked. “Pardon?”
“I didn’t hear you come in last night,” Rook said, as if this explained everything.
Auren yawned again and rubbed his eyes, wondering if this was a human thing to have no idea what someone was talking about this early in the morning. “I’m sorry, why is that a bad thing? I was trying to be quiet; that was just me trying to be considerate and let you sleep. What’s wrong with not hearing me come in and— why do you think I’m an assassin? Because no, I’m definitely not.”
* * *
“So . . . what you’re saying is that I’m an assassin, but I’m just a really bad one?” Auren said, incredulous. “I feel like I should be insulted, but I’m still trying to wrap my mind around why you think I’m an assassin.”
* * *
So he did the only thing he could do: he spun the wheel and steered them directly between two of the pillars. Auren had never steered a skyship before, but he knew the air and the wind currents, and if there was one thing he did know how to do, it was fly.
* * *
“Because like it or not, someone wants you dead.”
Tasmania sighed and dropped her face into her hands to rub her forehead. This was turning into a long day.
* * *
Auren had fallen in love with hammocks and abandoned his bunk in favor of sleeping on one.
“It’s like sleeping in the air, or flying,” Auren had said in raptures, completely delighted at this concept for some reason Rook could not make head nor tail out of.
Rook grunted. “We’re on a skyship. You’re already flying.”
Auren ignored him.
At least Rook had the bunk to himself now.
* * *
She saw Auren, across the deck, vault up onto the railing, rope in hand. Without hesitation, he leapt in a graceful arc, as one with the air, over the side of the skyship and out of sight into the sky below.
* * *
As soon as he was gone and the door closed behind them, Tasmania relaxed and slumped a little in her chair, grimacing. “Back to civilization, is it? Civilization can’t pluck you out of the sky when you’re falling a thousand feet through a storm. You’re very welcome for picking you up on this little not-civilization ship, sir.”
* * *
She laughed. “It’s Tasmania. Really. Or… my brothers call me Mania.”
Auren’s eyes widened. “I could never call you that.”
Her grin was infectious. “Believe me, if you’d known me as long as they have, you would.”
* * *
“I thought you were dead.”
“Yeah, I… get that a lot,” Rook said.
What do you think? Leave a comment and let me know! Thanks very much for reading — I so appreciate it! And Merry Christmas! ^_^ I’ll not be blogging next week, so I’ll see you all in a couple of weeks with the turning of the year! Love you, lovely readers! ❤
The Road of a Writer 