This is an excerpt from The Making of Incarnation: A Reader’s Companion, available now from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Smashwords.
If you’ve read some of my blog posts, you already know that my planning process for writing a book is fairly extensive, which means that I don’t generally write something unless it’s needed. More often, I end up adding a few scenes after the initial editing stage. Incarnation had two exceptions, so I thought I’d share those with you here.
Some readers have said that the first scene of Incarnation is overwhelming from the standpoint of being presented with so many names, terms, and unusual environments. Originally, it was an even longer battle-scene with more of this type of information, which I chose to break up and modify for the purpose of developing Sariel’s motivation. Removing some of the battle action also helped the pacing of the book. Here is the unedited portion that I ended up cutting out. It picks up just as Sariel and his Iryllurym fly into the ranks of the Marotru.
Sariel’s arms shook as his vaepkir hacked through the ranks of the enemy. As heads, limbs, and torsos flew by, the weapons threatened to rip from his hands as they sliced cleanly through the flesh of the fallen. Hundreds of Marotru perished in a matter of seconds, disappearing into brilliant flashes of light.
As Sariel’s speed decreased, he pumped his wings and rose above the heads of the enemy, leaving behind a wake of destruction. Banking into a turn, he looked back and slowed, waiting for the rest of his team to gather for the next strike. But they were nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, something powerful slammed into his leg and sent him spinning through the air. The sight of the battlefield instantly twisted into meaninglessness as he struggled to find his bearings. Something wrenched his left wing and he felt a pop, followed by the impact of his body hitting the ground.
For a moment, there was only silence. The earth felt cool beneath the skin of his face. He coughed, sending the disembodied colors of the dirt swirling into the air. Then, as if from somewhere far away, a deep sound could be felt in his chest. It rose slowly in volume until it began to shake the earth. The rumble signaled the start of a coordinated counter-attack by the Marotru.
Nedaret!
This realization cut through Sariel’s disoriented mind in an instant.
It’s an ambush!
Pushing himself up onto weakened legs, he gained an unsteady footing and surveyed the battlefield. His vaepkir were gone. His soldiers were gone. His left forewing hung uselessly from his back. And all around him, the ground began to break apart as the Nedaret came to the surface. Talons as long as an Iryllur’s arm broke through the ground, followed by the snakelike appendages of their lower bodies. Several had already broken free and were moving across the surface, their pale flesh rippling with a sickening motion. Their dark and dead eyes were nearly useless to them as they used their limbs to feel the ground for the vibrations of their prey. The gaping holes on the sides of their heads could also detect vibrations in the air. No doubt, it was one of these hideous creatures that had knocked him from the sky.
Sariel dodged to the left and jumped over a growing chasm in the earth. Slowly at first, he gained speed and began to run as his legs recovered their strength. All around him, the enemy ground forces began to move in on him. The nearest enemies approached at a run, coming at him with blind rage. They were mere beasts, unintelligent animals bred to attack on command. They moved across the earth on four legs and, like most of the Marotru, with an unnatural gait. Indeed their forms had long ago been altered to serve the purposes of their master, who took pleasure in perverting the original design of anything he could. Their fanged mouths opened wide as they lunged.
Sariel grabbed his left forewing and tucked it behind him. Now at a full run, he crouched and brought his right forewing quickly forward, crushing the bodies of the animals in rapid succession with the hard joint bone of his wing. Continuing to charge forward, he used his wing as a shield to deflect the next line of attackers and broke through their ranks into an open pocket.
Nearby, three Anduarym were fighting back to back and he moved toward them. Lacking the massive wings of the Iryllurym, they were impressive nonetheless. Their taller, stout bodies and long, muscled limbs gave them an advantage in ground combat. Two of the soldiers hefted shields of light, pressing into the next line of the enemy ranks, stabbing periodically with their spears. The third was without a shield, grasping his vandrekt in two hands, trying desperately to deflect the serrated blades of the surrounding enemies.
When they caught sight of Sariel, they quickly altered their course to protect him. Sariel did likewise, spreading his good wing in front of the third soldier.
“We have to get out here now!” one of the Anduarym yelled.
Based on what he had seen from above, Sariel figured they were somewhere toward the back of the enemy line. If they could just press forward through the enemy’s ranks, they might be able to break through to the relative safety of the territory already captured by the Marotru.
“Forward!” Sariel yelled above the deafening sound of the marching army. “…through their rear guard.”
The small band of soldiers spun around and charged into a line of two legged creatures that looked like smaller versions of the Anduarym, with dark skin and sharp claws on the ends of their fingers. The two with shields pushed and stabbed their way through as Sariel and the other worked together, guarding their backs with wing and spear. They managed to advance about twenty yards before one of the Anduarym fell, a great streak of nothingness dissolving across his midsection. He knew it was a fatal wound and quickly offered up his vandrekt to Sariel, who took it with regret. As they left him behind, the brave soldier cast his shield into the mass of dark flesh, killing two more before the crowds fell on him.
Sariel charged ahead in anger, swinging his right forewing from side to side, battering the enemy backward. One creature ducked under the wing and lunged toward his unprotected right side. Sariel quickly reached out and caught the demon’s arm, stopping its talons only inches away from his ribcage. Using his superior strength, he pulled and twisted the demon’s arm until the bones snapped. Its body submitted to the pain and moved a few steps to the left, where Sariel ran it through with his spear.
Another wave of demons came at them. Sariel pulled his wing in around his body for protection as they pressed in on all sides. He could do nothing except lean into the wave of darkness. His spear was useless in the confined space and he let it drop to the ground. Using both arms and one wing, he pushed back against the crowd, his legs struggling to keep his body upright. Suddenly, his back exploded in pain and he knew that he’d been stabbed.
“Ahhhhh,” he yelled, pushing with all his might against the mountain of dark flesh that threatened to trample the life from his body. The light that typically emanated from his skin flared to a white heat and he felt the collective strength of the enemy lessen. With one last push, he broke through their ranks and found himself standing alone.
In the mad rush to further their territory, the enemy continued their march toward the west, leaving Sariel behind. In their wake, the other two Anduarym had been trampled. Their dim bodies now crushed and twisted, lay on the ground. Fragile by comparison to the Anduarym, Sariel wondered how he managed to survive.
Breathless and severely wounded, he looked to the east and his last shred of hope vanished. A hundred yards away, and moving quickly, a massive Nedaret surged toward him. At twice his height, it moved in an upright position on four powerful limbs which undulated across the ground. It talons dug into the earth as it moved. As it came forward, its wide mouth opened, revealing a snarl of fanged teeth.
Sariel quickly looked around and noticed a battered Anduar shield lying nearby. He barely had time to grab it before one of the demon’s talons sliced through the air where his head had been. He rolled to the side and started to run as soon as his feet touched the ground. From the corner of his vision, he saw a glow on the ground and changed direction. At a full run, he reached down and grabbed the skoldur from the dirt, just as something clamped down on his broken wing.
Instantly, he was pulled off his feet and thrown in the opposite direction. Landing painfully on his back, he rolled over his left shoulder and onto his feet, now holding a spear and shield.
The demon turned to face him, his own blood dripping from one of its talons.
Sariel burst into motion as fast as his legs could move.
The demon lunged forward and lowered its head.
With a downward thrust of his good wing, Sariel jumped into the air.
The demon jerked its head upward snapped its jaws instinctively.
With a simultaneous backhand block and forehand strike, Sariel crashed the shield into its mouth and thrust the spear into its ear hole.
The demon howled in pain as it thrashed its head to the side, casting Sariel aside as if he weighed no more than the shield he barely managed to grasp.
Struggling to lift himself from the dirt, Sariel was struck in the face by a glancing blow from one of the creatures powerful limbs. As his face exploded in pain, the battered soldier pulled his feet underneath him and barely managed to bring his shield up before it struck again. This time the talon penetrated the shield and jolted him backward, but he maintained his footing and retreated a few steps out of its range.
The two stared at each other for a moment, and Sariel wondered how much reasoning ability the demon still had. Originally descended from the Vidir, its form and purpose had been altered from a soldier of the seas to a monster who tunneled through the earth. It was studying him now, reconsidering its strategy while the spear remained lodged in its skull. It clearly had intelligence beyond his original estimation.
The demon slowly began to move again, circling around Sariel. Its dead eyes looked in his direction, then downward as it used its four snake-like tendrils to simultaneously move and sense his location. It was seeking vulnerability in its enemy.
Sariel pivoted, keeping his shield between him and the creature. Though he wondered if the demon could even see this far, it must have been obvious that he now had no offensive weapon. However, the shield was standard issue for the Anduarym, and shared something in common with all armor, weapons, and uniforms worn by the Myndarym fighting with the forces of light—its existence could be relocated by those who understood shifting.
For a Myndar, altering the form of their bodies took as little effort as walking. It was their purpose from the beginning to sustain all created things, to shift their body and consciousness to any point along the continuum of existence, and to change shape as needed to accomplish this task. But the beginning was so long ago and everything was different now. Many of the Myndar had joined with the Amatru and adapted their abilities for the purposes of war.
Sariel raised his head to see the demon circling, studying him. Then he watched the expression on the demon’s face change from hatred to confusion as he shifted his existence slowly toward the eternal end of the spectrum. The further he went, the less he saw of the demon’s shape. Its pale flesh, usually projecting an absence of light, gave way to an ethereal shadow, unbound by the restrictions of form. Shifting further still, the blood-red fire at the core of the twisted being was all that remained, a darkened soul that would exist for eternity.
Sariel moved now toward this glowing cauldron, sensing his surroundings not with eyes, ears, or body, but with something less restrictive—a unified understanding of existence that exceeded sight, sound, or touch. And as he moved, the shield moved with him, its form changing shape as he willed it. It expanded, and thinned, stretching into a sphere as he used it to surround the demon’s core. When the shield was in place, Sariel quickly shifted back toward the temporal end of existence just in time to see the demon stumble and fall forward to the ground. The shield, once a robust armored plate of opaque light, was now a translucent globe that had somehow merged itself with the demon’s abdomen, strangling the body from its own vital organs.
Sariel breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around, the battlefield was nearly deserted, but for the bodies of demons and angels alike, strewn across the valley. The battle was over. He was the only survivor. Only now did he feel the extent of his wounds. His arms and legs were covered in lacerations. The Holy One’s sustaining presence bled from the injuries as liquid light. His left wing was broken, but surprisingly overshadowed by the pain from the stab wound in his back. His nose was broken as well, and he realized now that his vision was somewhat blurred in his left eye.
Looking down to the dry, dead earth beneath his feet, he shook his head. The Nin-Myndarym had left behind a barren landscape. Trees, grass, and all other forms of life had evaporated when their bond to the realm of Tima had been severed. Without the structure of that realm, the ethereal substances evaporated from Eili. All that remained now were dirt and rocks, and these only vague representations of what they once were. No doubt, things looked just as barren on the other side of the void.
Looking quickly to the west, Sariel could no longer see the enemy army. Neither would he be able to locate the bodies of his fallen soldiers. Without the luminescence they normally exuded, their bodies had become one with the darkness that now seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon.
What a waste, he thought to himself. After all these ages, after all the countless missions they had shared together, doing things that others weren’t capable of and would never know about, to have them meet an end here. In this desolate place.
And for what? What did we accomplish?
As his gaze wandered to the west, Sariel suddenly felt very alone. His soldiers were the last thing in this realm that mattered to him. Long ago, he’d lost the zeal that used to sustain him. And once that was gone, his mind was left to drift between thoughts of purposelessness and subordinate curiosity. Lately, he’d been spending more and more time thinking about what the Amatru were doing, wondering if all the sacrifice was worth it and whether or not they were accomplishing anything of value. Slowly, he realized that there was nothing left in the realm of Eili for him. Nothing to hold on to. Nothing to give him purpose. And in the chaos of these thoughts, a beacon of light emerged. A realization that the realm of Tima held something of value to him, something of great value. His hopelessness quickly faded, replaced by a fierce determination to grab hold of the one thing that still held value in this existence.
Lurching across the battlefield, Sariel set his eyes on the western horizon. He willed his exhausted body to move, desperate for the one thing that now consumed his mind.
__________
Although these corrections were small, I think the end result was a more interesting pattern to the developing story. I do my best to plan what needs to be written so I don’t waste any creative energy on things that will get cut out. But if it happens, this is certainly a fun way for me to share that part of my process with you.
This is an excerpt from The Making of Incarnation: A Reader’s Companion, available now from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Smashwords.
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Read another excerpt – The History of the Realms
Read another excerpt – Languages
Read another excerpt – The History of the Realms
Read another excerpt – Languages