So, it’s been a minute. Part time writers are at the mercy of life, and life’s been a bi…challenging for the last year. However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. So far, the first bits of the second chapter have revolved around character development of Liv – and it’s gotten really dark. We’ll see where that takes us. I’ve provided an unedited section below as a teaser.
Good news, I’ve got enough done, I’m aiming at a Christmas release for this next chapter. And as a reward, I’ll be bundling the two chapters, the first for free, when you buy the second. So please, share far and wide when the time comes. depending on the amount of shares, one or some lucky sharers will get them BOTH for free!
“Goldport was a long way, figuratively and literally, from Duke Osric’s hold, Hravnsheim, site of the Den that Liv’s guild had been burned from in Cooper’s Folly. Goldport lay long
along a gulf, indolently curved around the bay, like two lovers spooning, capped with a gleaming
white sand beach. Cooper’s Folly had been cramped and stuck in the gap between three
mountains, hemmed in by brooding beech and pine forests. Goldport was warm and languid,
caressed by silky white sand beaches, thanks to a southern ocean current and more convivial
clime; Copper’s Folly was cold and wet and sullen thanks to higher elevation and its northern
latitude. It’s people were olive skinned, with dark hair and slightly almond shaped eyes, and
since so much of its year was the kind of oppressive, paralyzing heat that pressed into you
like a weight, it’s people were not concerned with exact time keeping, while keeping strictly
to afternoon naps, and light and sheer clothing of the finest cottons and silks that
scandalized the more conservative Northerners of Hravnsheim. Finally, the one thing that
Goldport was, was rich. This was the thing that drew Liv back, thought the thought of
returning to her home town puckered her stomach with distaste.
Thanks to the accidents of geography that blessed Goldport with its fine climate and the best
harbor on this side of the continent, it was made richer with the discovery that nearly every
variety of otherwise rare spice and their products would grow, or could be made to grow there. Frankincense, Myrrh, Olives, Saffron, all had been carefully cultivated in the soil
around the city. It grew so rich, that one of its other informal names, the City of Ivory, came
into being because it was said that everyone was so rich that they could all afford to sleep on
beds made from it. Certainly some of them did, but she knew it was a well-worn lie. There
were some, many even, rich enough for ivory beds. But she knew that those tales were mostly
well-loved lies given to separate the stupid and unlucky from their money.
The varied splendors and riches of Goldport were lost on Liv. Too much pain and darkness
had been caused there in her childhood to ever be rinsed away by all the warmth and sun.
The woman she was born as, died there as a child in the flesh markets of the Streets of Silk.
As her horse clop-clopped slowly towards the Pleasure Gate under the leaden heat, she was
unable to resist being drawn back to old thoughts she had thought well buried.”