Introducing Trelli…

Outline: Trelli was an orphan placed as a housemaid in the respectable household of the Hendrechan family, notable in local commerce and society. She swiftly learnt she was fortunate, and by hard work rose to be valued. Her one problem being the younger son Wigran who due to his own forays in The Stommigheid inadvertently involves her upsetting her once stable life by giving her powers she now has to master.

Preamble: This extract involves the finale in a series of confrontations between Trelli and Wigran. She, having discovered his illegal efforts with The Stommigheid has warned him to stop before the authorities or worse come down upon the household. Because of their previously good relationship he has been trying to convince her otherwise.

          Trelli was starting to yearn for easier times when her Ghitanixday afternoons were little interludes when she could just be herself and sometimes lazy. She now accepted this had been chipped away since Wigran had got her all tangled up with firstly his financial doings and now here she was in his room, sitting at this desk, looking at his nasty mirror, and him carrying on like it was all quite right and proper. And why had she been such a ninny and let him talk her into this? This wasn’t excitement jiggling her innards. No. This was being scared silly.

          ‘What am I supposed to do?’ she demanded.

          ‘Nothing Trelli,’ was his anxious reply ‘I just want you to see how wondrous The Ethereal can be,’ and his hands moved across the jewels bringing a light similar to a pale misty dawn.

          ‘Looks ghostly to me,’ she complained.

          ‘No, let me explain. You see, there came upon the world long years ago a new force which enabled folk to do things which had only been dreamed off,’

          ‘And The World might have got destroyed,’

          ‘Yes, there were mistakes, but it was due to inexperience. Look. You do want to know, don’t you?’

          ‘I don’t think I do,’

          ‘Oh, don’t be so soppy. Look at these jewels. These are selected for their empathy with the Ethereal. They draw its elements from the very air and channel them through these delicate wires into the….’

          ‘Funny looking box with a scary mirror. Something will loom out of it,’ she shuffled nervously, then flinched when Wigran tried to pat her knee, he had meant to reassure her, not one of his better qualities.

          ‘No,’ he tried his idea of a calm authoritative voice, it came out peevish. ‘Look, watch this,’ and despite her whimper of apprehension began to tap out a pattern upon the jewels ‘You see, each impact or combinations of impacts has a certain resonance which sends out a message to the central hub within the box, which in turn generates an empathy with the Ethereal. I’ll show you,’ he turned to look, hopefully at her, finding her wide-eyed attention upon the screen.

          ‘Why is there a small red and blue sea in the middle?’

          Wigran peered at the shape she was pointing at.

          ‘Nothing to worry about,’ he assured her or hoped he had ‘This is one of the many sights you see,’

          ‘What does it mean then? Is it a sea in some odd land?’

          ‘It’s a,’ he paused then as loathed as he was had to admit ‘Well, I’m not too sure at the present,’ he leaned in fingers hovering over the jewels.

          ‘If you don’t know,’ Trelli chided swatting his hands away ‘Don’t fool with it. Wait for it to go away,’

          ‘I can’t do that,’ he snapped horrified at the idea ‘This is as an important exploration as one by any sea captain,’ while still hovering at the jewels, not sure of his choice but neither willing to let Trelli think he was indecisive.

          ‘More than a few of those never came back,’ she warned as she began to chew upon her knuckles and recite prayers begging The Good Lord God to forgive these his foolish and wayward children.

          ‘Do stop that,’ Wigran complained now embracing peevishness, lest she somehow convince him ‘It is not helpful,’

          ‘Not asking The Good Lord God for aid and guidance ?’

           ‘Oh Trelli. Oh Trelli. Oh Trelli,’ he lamented. She was confusing him.

          ‘Yes, I’m here. All three of me,’ fear being replaced by sarcasm.

          ‘This is how things are when the Ethereal or Stommigheid is being explored, there are sights and sounds to be encountered. This red and blue manifestation could well be the indication of an as yet unchartered pathway, enabling the question of distance to be considered no longer valid to the communications regarding or transference of goods. Look,’ goaded by her intransigence he pressed red and azure jewels’ See how it fluctuates in response to gems of similar hues, indicating a facet of empathy,’   

          Once more Trelli did not have any notion as to what he was talking about, and said so while watching that red and blue smudge. It did look like a sea, albeit a small one.

          Wigran stung by her failure to at least listen with an open mind  began to dither about with the lowest of the three drawers on the right side of his desk, doing his stupid tapping, this time on three dull looking brass screws, at which point the draw flew open, and he swiftly pulled out a volume old and battered through use, waving the thing in her face.

          She managed to make out an odd title of ‘A Perplexing Tendency to Persist’

          ‘This is how I started Trelli. Four years ago, when father made a speculative purchase of some woebegone lord’s library and I found this amongst volumes on the husbandry of vegetables. This seemingly amusing and quirky tale is actually made of two layers. Firstly, part of an account of folk legendary within the realms of the Jordisk told in a comic style, but more important a coded guide on how you could build an oculator,’

          Trelli wrinkled her threatened nose, she was sure there was an oily smell coming out of the pages and wished he would put the blasted thing back in the drawer. Then something struck her.

          ‘How did you know it was a code? I mean if you hadn’t seen it before. Aren’t codes complicated?’

          His grin was something she reckoned those Gervalons went in for at their blasphemous ceremonies before they sacrificed small furry animals, not that she’d actually seen such a horrid act, but there were stories.

          ‘Because it all becomes clear when you read it with an open mind,’

          This was the limit of her forbearance. A new and sudden determination gripped her for she could feel something whispering to her. Temptation. She would fight back.  She leapt up, hands to her ears, and reciting a new string of prayers for protection from The Evils of The Lascivious and The Perils of the Retributions, then gathering all of her determination and with finger pointing stormed.

          ‘Dangerous. Blasphemous. I’ll give you just one day to destroy all of this. And burn it, or I’m going to tell your parents,’

          Wigran shot up, still waving the book, Trelli with a new mix of fear and rage swatted it out his grasp, then with teeth clenched dashed towards the volume, snatching it up, making to tear it apart. Wigran howled in anguish meaning to grab the book, grabbed her, swinging her about and thus she lost her balance. In trying to regain it, her right hand hit some of the jewels.

          Because she was blocking most of his line of sight Wigran did not initially see the small red and blue shape growing. This only became apparent when the entire lower half of the mirrored surface was filled with a brightness of red and blue, silhouetting Trelli. Seeing the  shock on his face she twisted about, to see the red and blue rising up as she comprehended it, into a wave, a big tide coming in wave, crashing on rocks. She yelped, threw up her hands to her face and tumbled backwards, over one chair and into a heap on the floor.

          In the aftermath, the colours subsided, the surface became a passive leaf green, broken by flickers of blonde yellow sunlight.

          This and the book were of no real consequence for either Trelli or Wigran. They were both looking at her hands.

          Which had begun to glow with hues shifting between the reds and blues previously witnessed on the oculator.

          The brief interlude of shared wide-eyed open mouthed silence was broken by the cries of dismay from Trelli.

Introducing Arketre…

Outline: Arketre is a soldier of the LifeGuard, (a state within a state in the Oakhostian, not so much emperor makers as emperor assessors). Although excellent as a Medician (healer/medic) and easy going when away from conflict; she has a disturbing side, a willingness to embrace battle and retribution as a means to solving what she judges as ‘wrong’ or injustice

Preamble: This ties in with the previous introduction of Karlyn. The man who was cause of the alarm fled and turned up in the custody of The LifeGuard at one of their many outposts, the officer in charge of The Astatheia observations, Captain Dekyria calls on Medician Arketre Beritt to ease the fellow out of his hysteria. There is a brief interlude Arketre is not aware of where Karlyn experiences her first awareness of her.

          At the foot of the steps there was just about enough for one pace and there was a door, progress made all the more difficult by the presence of two troopers. Trex with his usual lazy smirk, Myrrek, always doleful, but both sharing a tense alertness which made Beritt inadvertently retreat until she banged her bare heel on the foot of the stairs. Erzns’ men. Sergeant Erzns’ file, the outposts’ Hounds. They never said anything about their activities, you could get banter and you would get sweeping generalisations about how the LifeGuard should be run but never any detail. Naturally you knew they did more than scout and secure the area from interlopers and the Just Curious.

          One more loud, chilling scream of fear.

          ‘I’m hearin’ Fourth Hell’s worth of pain in there,’ Beritt asserted; her sense of service overwhelming any respect of rank ‘They been torturing someone Cap’n and gone so far y’all want me to patch ‘em up?’ agitation causing her accent to slip into its native sudd-hengestatian.  

          Trex knowingly winked at her in approval, she did not feel in the mood for any sort of compliment.

          ‘Nothing of the sort medician,’ the captain said wearily, he jerked a thumb to the door ‘In here is a fellow who has been messing about with business he should not have and got in far too deep. You are going to see what happens when someone is careless with The Astatheia,’

          For an instant, her body would not move. Even smoothed out by the LifeGuard’s own idiosyncratic official term for The Stommigheid she was still prey to a deep sense of tension at the mention of the stuff. Not even her prior two years being in the religious atmosphere and analytical philosophy of the Devoteds of the Libratery had eased her instincts.

          Beritt took in a deep breath; yes, she knew this was one of the reasons why the LifeGuard had the keep. Outpost Dorigen was a Station of Observation. To hold watch on the Southern West of the Oakhostian Empire, and to attend to any problems or threats of the small sorts be they subtle or downright violent.    Dekyria’s ‘owls’ usually kept themselves to themselves in their own room with its metal boxes, winking lights and mirror’d surfaces with more lights. There were the requests for ‘something to help with a head pain’, the cause of which you never asked about. So, you didn’t really know what they got up to. This flurry of recollections being swept out of her head when the captain nudged her into the room.

          ‘Just like The Siege, Stitches ’ Trex crooned to her as he locked the door.  She ignored him.  

          They’d taken a lot of trouble to put as much light as they could; they’d even brought in some decent bedding for the fellow to lie upon. You could almost call it comfy. Though it being obvious the man was in no condition to appreciate this nicety.  Erzns lean and hardened by years of service held him by the waist, while his fileman Crylan grasped the shoulders and was speaking in his trademark everyday way, trying to infuse some sort of calm into the writhing figure. Two others stood by and shook their heads.

          The man was not listening to anyone. Beritt had witnessed this sort of stare before; the look beyond the people in front of them, the stare driven by the fear running rampant through a head. She’d met it with silly lads who’d not meant to kill someone in a tavern brawl, with soldiers who had their first or one too many battles, folk who’d tried a mysterious brew they shouldn’t have. The LifeGuard did like its medicians to impose into the Community; Maintain a Presence they called it.

          The man seemed to be seeing something on the opposite wall, as his wide-eyes were fixed there, another long wailing scream and a stream of incoherence. Crylan turned to Beritt.

          ‘Hullo Medician, you wouldn’t have something for this awful earache I’m getting would you?’

          Dekyria spoke in a, slow, factual, precise way.

          ‘You are now going to learn something more about my file, Medician. We started noticing something upon the oculators,’ he fixed an intense gaze upon her ‘Oculator, Medician?’

          ‘Those dark grey metal boxes, with bright gems on the surface and black stand up mirror’d surfaces’

          ‘Well some might say you know too much already,’

          ‘Medicians end up being everywhere with everyone Captain,’

          ‘Fair comment. Anyway, we observed series of bright sparks jumping. It’s called grasshopping,’ he gestured to the tormented fellow’s thick grey brown leather belt inlaid on each side of the buckle with five large pale green gems ‘And this is one of the Jordisk devices they use. These allow someone to pass in and out of those places beyond the World Physical; just of the edge of the Zerstorung. Hazardous. Normally only the most daring, or insane use it. This fellow, I think, was just panicked and was desperate to get away. On his journey, he probably saw and was touched by other things way beyond nightmares. Some pathways take in all The Hells and more Medician, ‘

          The man’s breath began to come in short desperate keening sounds, Beritt reckoned he was trying to say something important, but his terror was shredding his sanity.

          ‘What would you like me to do Captain?’ not at all certain of what was expected of her; she was still trying to cope with grasshopping and places beyond the World Physical; Zerstorung? The place where the demons lived and lurked.

          ‘Calm him down and get him to make sense, please. Y’see the noteworthy factor, from what we can trace is he started off on the south-eastern border with neighbouring Valeneg and now arrives two hundred and fifty myles south and west from there here in Decoryx’s mid north. Ending up a suspiciously close two myles from the outpost which is a bit of an upset seeing as how this part of our presence is supposed to be very secret. However, it is as if he knew where and who we were. Sergeant Erzns’ file was sent to find him,’ Beritt assumed the selection was intentional and not because they happened to be hanging about.

          ‘Screaming and crawling in circles on his hands and knees,’ the sergeant volunteered ‘We had to tie him over a horse and gag him to bring him in,’

          Somewhere along a road separated by some distance and a small notch of time Karlyn twitched and sniffed.

          ‘I smells other horses an’ dirtier gags. But there’s nothing of fun. Hmm,’ 

          ‘No wonder he’s in a distressed state,’ Beritt suggested as she tried to come to terms with having a sort of contact with The Astatheia; while reckoning Stommigheid was the much better sounding.

          ‘Nevertheless,’ Dekyria interposed ‘I need to know if he truly was looking for us and why,’

          ‘Excuse me for asking Captain but does The Major know?’

          ‘He’s in contact with Drygnest, medician,’

          ‘Squirtz. The Castle Drygnest. Oh gladsome day. If Ah do something wrong, Ah will get Drygnest dropping a big midden right on mah poor little blonde head. Frib. Ah’d rather be midwifing a lord’s wife again. This is more a job for an Andliga, except for the LifeGuard keeping all its religious officers at Drygnest studying old texts,’

          Battlefield decision.

          ‘You’ll have to tell the sergeant and the fileman to let him go Captain. His restraint is agitating him,’

          Neither man felt her suggestion was a good one and expressed as much with slow shakes of the head. The captain looked at Beritt, she looked back, he winced; she was right, but his authority was still required. She continued her fixed stare. These medicians did believe they had the right to address ethical issues to anyone, irrespective of rank.

          ‘You’ll have to tend to your own injuries if this goes wrong,’ he warned her. ‘Sergeant Erzns, Fileman Crylan when the medician is ready let the man go,’

          ‘Oh wondrous, the art of the shifting the responsibility’

          There was little enthusiasm in the sergeant or fileman’s faces; in addition, the other two; Norvan and Drell who had been at rest against the far wall, eased off of it and moved in, poised. As Beritt drew closer the man twitched and again screamed. She was certain he was trying to speak, but she would have to try to break through the barrier of terror to get any sense, so she knelt before him, cold stones at once assailing her knees; his terror, this familiar sight.    

          The trick was to gift them normality.

          ‘Hello,’ she said softly laying emphasis on her sudd hengestatian drawl, accompanied by a manufactured gentle smile.

          No scream from the man, just a grimace of fear and a pleading look. She thought it might be a start. Suddenly the man shot up to a crouch and Beritt was left kneeling before someone who previously had been struggling against two very capable soldiers. As he ground his teeth together and hissed in his breath, she was struck by her own sudden fear he would bite her nose, aside from the pain she would have to put up with endless jokes on the matter, particularly from Norvan and Drell, the pair now a little closer, even if they would be like lightening on the fellow should he bite her. Mixed feelings. She would press on with her work then.

          ‘Y’all are safe now,’ she said, plainly, but heavy on the apparent confidence. You had to make them believe in you. Truth be known to do this you had to make yourself believe in them vook their headsg farmer and made muffled howls. The Custodian scowled. He was an ol’occaisonal hub-hubin He set his attention on her as if only now aware she was there, his expression confused, his breathing turning to a simple panting as he looked down, now trying to make sense of this person kneeling, in apparent calm repose.

          ‘Y’ should sit with me an’ we can talk some ‘bout what troubles you,’ she knew this was a risk, patching up wounds was one thing, getting into the twists and turns of the mind was quite another, having the possibility of six soldiers  ready to pounce and afterwards call her a fool was not helping. She took some solace she was still wearing her undershorts, so if she did end up sprawling backwards, all would remain hidden.

          The man’s mouth worked, wordlessly at first, then he sank to his knees as if the effort to speak sense was draining him. Thus, face to face with Beritt who was in turn trying to feel she had this all under her control while not letting on she was making everything up as she went along. She patted his shoulder encouragingly, then the man suddenly lurched forward, and Beritt was glad she’d not crouched, after all any sort of sprawl was not dignified.

          ‘They…they…. they,’ he said, which she reckoned was a start, so she reached out and took his face in her hands.

          ‘Are not here,’ she hoped the words had sounded as a statement and not a suggestion. Also, she had a problem as she wanted to reach for something out of her supplies while keeping him calm. Never mind the rest watching. Concentrate.  She lowered one hand to his chin, fumbled backwards to the other, assuring him all the while he was safe now.

          ‘The dire screams and the burning iron sun,’ the words came in  short bursts, punctuated by more keening breath ‘Then I think they saw me. I saw dying…dying innocents, tortured, and knew I would be next. They loped. They slithered, they reached,’

          Beritt with one hand brought up the slender wood, wrapped in leather tube. Using her thumb, she flipped open the top and passed it across the man’s nose, while holding her own breath, it would not do for the two of them to slip under its soothing vapours. Easing her other hand from his chin, she swiftly sealed the tube. The man blinked, swayed slightly once more surveyed the room, this time his eyes in focus, comprehension taking place of panic as the vapours did their calming work.

          ‘Safe,’ she said with a little more confidence ‘Secure,’ she added. Now to get him settled as her feet were freezing and knees protesting; so, with an inspiration born out of the memories of when her mom used to have her to care for her baby brothers she leant forward to carefully place a light kiss on his forehead. The shock of sudden tenderness caused him to sit down, blush and run his hand through his hair in surprise.

          ‘Goodness,’ he said suddenly ‘An angel,’

          Drell muttered a complaint about how she’d not done similar to him when he’d been afflicted, causing Norvan to ask who would want to kiss a boil on the arse, particularly Drell’s ugly hairy rump.

          ‘What’s his secret that other men an’t got,’ grumbled Trex ‘I never had one,’

          A glower from Erzns stifled any further commentary.

          Meanwhile Beritt was trying not to fluster herself with surprise at her own precipitate action.

          ‘Oh no sir,’ she said to the man ‘Just a medician in the LifeGuard,’

          ‘Then I have arrived?’ he said, trembled and tears of relief began to flow down his face, as he took hold of her hands ‘But please don’t give me anything to sleep. Not sleep, they might find me in my dreams. I want to stay awake, there is much to be said,’

          Beritt holding his hands rose. She would have to put her socks on. Once they both stood, she turned the man gently towards Captain Dekyria.

          ‘This is the officer sir you should talk to. Captain Dekyria is a fair and reasonable man,’

          ‘She’s obviously willing to kiss a captain’s arse,’

          ‘I heard that Trooper Norvan,’ growled Erzns.

          Beritt with her back facing the sergeant while looking at trooper Norvan extended her right hand’s middle finger up the bridge of her nose indicating she’d heard him too. Dekyria had either chosen to ignore lower rank business or was concentrating upon the fellow and although not possessing Beritt’s capacity for gentleness none the less spoke in his own calm respectful way.

          ‘You’ve obviously had a very troubled journey sir. We will get you some refreshments and we might have some conversation. May we know your name?’

          ‘Bleymore, Svenlorn Bleymore’ he said.

Three Strong Female Leads and Why. (And also… ‘How’)


Yes, it’s about my own work. It is also about the business of one way of creating characters and fitting them into a narrative.

Musing Introduction

I don’t really know why my fiction always ends up with at least one central female character of some determination and intelligence with the ability to cause any nasty protagonists harm be it physical or mental while surviving and prospering. And I am not going to inflict upon you any reasoning. It is what it is. Let it be (Of course there is the secret wicked hope that this predilection annoys the heck out of those male readers who are uneasy with female characters who are not victims or feisty sorts needing a man to help them out and infuriates even less pleasant creatures biologically considered male….. don’t care)

Why Three? Doesn’t it get a little crowded?

This objection is never raised when the companionship is all male. The traditional male composite business is a bit of an artificial construct which does seem to be dying in the general area of mainstream; the danger being not to have the characters acting as men simply inhabiting women’s bodies. And that dear reader is a bit of a challenge for the male writer to get the balance right. I tried, ‘frib’ (see books-shameless plug) knows I tried.

A long, long time ago, far, far away there was just one. Dry, tallish, humourless right out of stock casting, there was a great deal of evolution, until there were two: protagonists, one a feisty unconventional soldier, the other a haughty princess in a comedic setting…. annddddd still that stock casting. Those self-published books are still out there, I don’t talk about them, just use some of the material as background long ago history for this trilogy. Finally after another series of false starts a certain set of images formed, albeit maybe not that original, there again has anyone in the past dozen or so centuries written a truly original character?

The Characters Appear

Firstly unless you really wish to drive yourself to distraction it is advisable to engage with some of the basic conventions and commonalities of the genre you’re in, it makes things easier and you can always build, tweak and nuance.

In Fantasy you often find a person who gets put upon, chosen for something they did not intend to get involved in- classic cases Bilbo and Frodo. In my narrative this is Trelli: a hardworking and diligent house servant of a rising mercantile respectable family in a modest port town . Their younger son Wigran is a Jordisk (see previous post), his enthusiasm and her concerns on discovery of actions that he will ruin the family reputation and her job prospects leads to ructions between them. This results in another of those classic circumstances albeit normally reserved for SF; she gets accidentally imbued with the Stommigheid (again see previous post). We shall leave the poor girl there suffering because we have to backtrack to the other two who occupy earlier parts of the narrative. The important thing I had to remember with Trelli was not to leave her as a constant confused victim, nor a damsel in distress to be rescued by the others. She now has a power and needs to understand this. Hers will be a long and uneven journey. She also brings a very practical aspect missing from the other two.

A Fantasy narrative with a light hearted streak yearns for a maverick, and for a maverick to survive in a Fantasy world they had better have at least one and usually more skills, gifts or what-have-yours to go with their unconventional streak. Along popped up Karlyn Nahtinee . Self-appointed arsonist in the service of ‘The Good Lord God’ burning down places she decided were evil, also athletic, with a sense of smell the range of a small radar and accompanying discernment a dog would envy; she talks to flora and fauna. Her perception of the world, her logic and communication skills are quirky, sometimes child-like and definitely disruptive. So odd, she is taken as an assistant by an stern, judgemental very focused Custodian Meradat who see ‘qualities’ in her. She has no problem with this. Of course no maverick should be without an air of ‘why’ and ‘who’ about them, so she starts with a very sketchy back story. Her task is to aid in the hunting down of some miscreant Jordisk, which will end up with her tracking Trelli (She is fun to write – the great challenge being not to have made her appear as a Harley Quinn knock off… very difficult)

You get Rangers who have seen ‘things’ and been ‘places’, you get conflicted warriors with guilty pasts, you find devout trained followers who are going to get upset on finding out something and you get cynical mercenaries who deep down inside actually have a moral compass. In short you get soldiers. The trouble with the female version is they tend to be taller than most men and often possessed of that humourless dispositions, or are vulgar barbarians (maybe tautology there) who can weather the worst climates in skimpy clothing (looking at you Red Sonja ). I took the more rounded version you get in SF and placed her down amongst ‘the ranks’, a medic (Or Medician). Like most soldiers she is prone to grumbling, also is dedicated to her role, caring, respectful of rank but has an amorous reputation with girls. Overall Arketre Beritt, was written with the ordinary soldiers of the past more than one and a half centuries in mind. The Dog-face, The Tommy, The Grunt, The PBI, The Footslogger (in her case mounted infantry). Because of her empathetic nature and skill as a Medician she is sent with the file (team) who are to trace and apprehend what we call these days a ‘Person of Interest’ to her regiment (The elite LifeGuard). Which of course will be poor Trelli. Arketre is not as completely sunny as she first seems. Like many a soldier who has been in the harsh front line she has another side to her. One of the reasons why one hardened officer in the LifeGuard Headquarters chose her. Her accents changes are to indicate that conflicting between nature and training.

Custodian and LifeGuard’s paths naturally cross; by convention they co-operate. Arketre and Karlyn bond in a slightly jagged, bantering way. While this is happening both having been tracking the wayward young Jordisk as they get closer it is then Trelli gets her accident and will be the focus.

The final meeting of the three is set against a chaotic background of a town under piratical attack from the sea; that’s due to another strand of the narrative and to go into would distract from this subject matter. Karlyn enthused by her role wants to arrest and restrain Trelli, Arketre wants to approach with caution. All intentions get swept up in the background chaos; file and Custodian are missing assumed dead , leaving Arketre with the responsibility of getting Trelli out of danger and to her immediate commanders. By now Karlyn is content to follow whatever Arketre (named by her as ‘Flaxi‘- blonde hair) decides. Trelli distressed, scared by the nascent powers she has displayed looks to the more apparently sympathetic Arketre for protection, and their journey, soon to be disrupted begins.


Having one Alpha character can lead to a great deal of their introspection or repetition, and often wasting of the potential of the associates. These ‘associates’ might have their ‘moments on stage’ objecting to certain actions and decisions and even quit the company (or get sacrificed for the plot), but tend to still gather about the said Alpha when they are being heroic. That notion often works quite well with a very good writer or one who knows their readership and supplies the goods, an equally laudable skill and artistry.

I chose another alternative; a group of folk drawn together by circumstances and a possible empathy through the Ethereal / Stommigheid / Astatheia . Being very much individuals from differing background and outlooks they squabble, also being uncertain of just what they are supposed to be doing there is never one dominant personality, any one of them will take the lead or get very stubborn, being supported by either of the others or ganged up on by the other pair. Very much like any other bunch of folk. Initially it was Arketre with her military ways who took the decisions, that fractured under stress, and returned, and went away again and so on. Much more fun to write.

The above seems all well and good, however it was getting it to work in a way which would be as near to natural as I could get in a Fantasy was the challenge. Luckily there was the good ol’ Ethereal / Stommigheid / Astatheia to assist, a vital component when a sub-text appeared of a growing attraction turning to affection to physical between Karlyn and Arketre; Trelli could not be a third wheel. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! There had to be a triangulation with internal lines and in constant motion. It worked like this, sort of.

Arketre being a person involved in the practical world was uneasy when dealing with matters Astatheia, as she would call it. However being a medician and empathetic with folk in distress was sympathetic to Trelli as she saw as a victim. Trelli in turn responded to this friendliness, the accompanying bond gave Arketre someone she could turn to for inspiration and support when faced with Astatheia and the burden of responsibility . ‘If Trelli can do it, so can I’ . Whereas Karlyn and Arketre were bonding in other ways, Karlyn was unable to communicate with Arketre over the Stommigheid (‘Stormhiggle’ as she calls it) , initially hostile to Trelli she begins to appreciate there is a companionship through a shared use of this power, and this is reciprocated. Eventually when Arketre and Karlyn have a furious row over an action the former sees as irresponsible, it is Trelli, Karlyn turns to for support and comfort and Trelli who signals to Arketre matters are not as straightforward as she would wish and to treat Karlyn’s action with more respect. As the trio face the most dangerous and eventful part of the first volume roles of leadership, support, and sacrifice flip back and forth as the camaraderie grows as I hoped they would.

In the final chapters of the first volume Trelli is parted from the other two not by choice but by circumstance, for the time they must go as a duo and one. Arketre worries for Trelli, but Karlyn assures her that ‘Whychie’ (Karlyn rarely calls anyone by their true name) is safe, and in turn Trelli feels her friends are somewhere but secure, knowing they will be together again. It is this bond between Karlyn and Trelli which puts Arketre’s mind at ease both because she sees Trelli as a friend and between Trelli and Karlyn she is safe from being overwhelmed by an unseen powers.

Thus is the grouping formed. Although throughout the books each has to sometimes work alone and there are pairings between all three, it is only when they are together as the trio that their full strength is seen.


Aside from charting my own efforts in this area, I hope there will be some snippets which can be of service to any writer’s journey with characters.