Dark Age Fiction: Jeff Blackmer's Blog

I really like movie trailers; well, good movie trailers anyway. Sometimes they’e our first exposure to an upcoming movie. Even as jaded and cynical as we can be about advertisements, we often get excited at this thing called a movie trailer. Although actually no more than an advertisement for a movie, there have been many times at the conclusion of a trailer where I have made a mental note: ‘I have GOT to see that movie when it comes out.

A couple of years ago I had never even heard of a book trailer. I still remember my first reaction. It was sort of a ‘huh?’ It seemed a rather odd thing, sort of like advertising on the radio for a movie. But it’s grown on me. At first I had no interest whatsoever. But I have moved steadily toward it and finally embraced it. With Draegnstoen coming out in just a few days, I finally took the plunge. And so, here it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlQYysfXZ-I

“Face me then, Coel ap Tegfan, and tell me of your fathers.”
Coel turned from the wall and stared deep into his father’s eyes. “I am Coel, son of Tegfan, son of Teuhant, son of Tyddbwyll, son of Urban, son of Gradd, son of … Rrivedel.” His chest swelled with pride; to be the son of kings, all down through the long years.  Eyes locked on his sire’s, he almost thought he could see the generations of all those who came before him.
He continued, focusing intently. “Rrivedel, who regained his throne from the Romans, was the son of Retigern, son of Oudecant, son of Outigar, son of Ebuid, son of … Endos, son of Eudelen, son of Eugein, son of Avalloch, son of Bedelia, who was a daughter of Boudicca, Queen of the Iceni, who fought against the Romans.” His voice faded, and he imagined at the end, in his father’s countenance, he had glimpsed the face of the Iceni Queen.

Even though there were a number of historical discrepancies, I found the 2004 movie “King Arthur” quite interesting. It was fascinating to see here what I had read in several other accounts; Pictish women fought alongside their men in battle.

In the movie’s last battle, Guinevere (portrayed here as a Pict – called a “Woad” in the movie) battles Cynric, son of the Saxon king Cerdic. Part way into the battle she finds him too much to handle, and Lancelot takes over for her. Indeed, Cynric is a skilled fighter. At the end of their fight, Lancelot and Cynric have killed each other. But what I was hoping to see in that scene was Guinevere herself take out this formidable Saxon foe.

Having been deprived that wish, I fulfilled it in Draegnstoen  I wrote a scene where Feodia, a Pictish princess and wife of the hero, goes into battle and takes on Malleolus (The Hammer), a brutal Roman centurion who has ice water running through his veins.

In celebration of finishing the final draft of Draegnstoen today, an excerpt of that scene appears below. Enjoy.

Feodia looked up to see a Roman striding toward her; grim, determined hatred in his eyes. Turning to meet him she knew he was the leader. This was no common soldier; this was an unwavering warrior whose only goal was her death. But the potion she inhaled was in full effect, and she was now more a fearless animal than a soldier.

They paused a moment and then Malleolus’ sword came crashing down. She moved quickly and deflected the blow with her sword. Spinning, she swung her sword toward him, but he blocked the blow with his own steel. His broadsword was longer and heavier, but she moved more quickly and swung her Pictish blade. Another missed swipe with his blade, and he knew he just needed to connect once against this one, her bare skin would be no defense against his steel. But the patterns of blue on her body were frustrating to look at. They distorted her shape and size and he kept making adjustments in his style to compensate.

Her blade flew, somehow getting past the Roman sword, but it struck his armor and did little damage. They continued the dance of death, neither one able to prevail. Deciding to try something different, he waited for the right moment then spun, but in the opposite direction she expected. In close now, too close for his sword, he would sweep her feet, she would fall and then he would run her through. But something unexpected happened. His spin caught her by surprise, but in that last moment, face to face and just inches away from the blue naked woman, he hesitated for just a second. Right before he swept her legs, she clenched her fist and with all her might, and struck him at the base of his nose. He made her fall; she rolled and scraped her leg, but her punch reeled him, blurring his eyes with tears. Scrambling, she got to her feet in time to see him wipe the blood from his broken nose. Nodding at her, he grinned, drawing his sword up again to fight.

Their swords crashed again and again, and now she was tiring, gasping for breath. The man seemed to be made of iron, his muscles rippling with each motion. She knew her strength was no match for the Centurion’s but she swung again, and yet again, to no advantage. Her muscles burned, and it seemed as if she would have more luck hacking her sword against an anvil. But as she deflected another swing, she noticed something about how the centurion swung his blade. His style exposed a weakness of which he was evidently unaware. Again and again he parried, and she swung once more, this time upward. This time steel connected, opening up a cut in the Centurion’s upper inside left arm, just below the armpit. He paused for a moment, reached up and felt the gash with his right hand and pulled away blood soaked fingers. His eyes showed surprise, but nonetheless, wiped the blood off and drew up the sword to fight again. Only now, blood was dripping steadily from his left elbow, forming a pool on the ground.

“Fight,” growled Malleolus.

Feodia slowly shook her head and stepped back. “Die….”

Looking at her with puzzled eyes, he stumbled, refocused and lifted his sword again; much more slowly. Again he staggered and struggled to raise his blade, but the weight was now too much. Gazing down to see his blood soaking into the earth, he looked up, astonished.

“Rome is fallen,” she declared.  

Knowing the last words Malleolus heard would be hers, Feodia decided to repeat them in Pictish. It was the final blow. “Romei caitha.”

The centurion fell to one knee and then collapsed, falling sideways into the pool of his own blood.

One of the first things we do as writers is developing and fleshing out our characters. In chapter one of Draegnstoen we meet most of the important ones. There is ten-year old Rhun, the crown prince with a mean streak; the one who would be king. We are introduced to Frydissa, his nine-year old sister, and brother Coel, age seven, the hero of the story. A peasant boy, Hamish, is also introduced.
When I began, I barely knew these characters, least of all, Frydissa and Hamish. And now, as I finish both Draegnstoen and Highland King, I come to realize how important these two really are.

When we first meet Hamish, he is a simple peasant boy from a very poor family. I originally put him into the story only to show the reader that Rhun was a cruel bully. I thought after his brief appearance we would never see him again. However, he has proven me wrong, showing up later to be a rider for the king, and going on a dangerous mission to a foreign land.
In Highland King he appears again, as a personal bodyguard to the queen. He risks his life to protect the young hero, and is the only one in the story brave enough to fight the giant twice. Loyal Hamish never craves the spotlight, but he’s always there when needed, and this saga would not be the same without his quiet strength.

I sorrow for the hard life I gave Frydissa. This feisty little red haired girl was originally supposed to be just a supporting character. But she’s shown herself to be made of the same steel as Hamish, enduring many trials to support the cause of good. She trudges the full length of both books; her life a series of tragedies, briefly interrupted by periods of happiness.  At the end of Draegnstoen, she was ready to give birth to her baby, and that slim plot thread became the tie in when I decided to write Highland King. In spite of all she suffered in Draegnstoen, Frydissa bravely stepped forward to be the mother of Doncann, the hero in Highland King. There was still much left for her to endure and her “happily ever after” doesn’t come until thirty six years after we first meet her – at the end of the second book, after eighty-eight chapters of tribulation.

At last I can see these two for who they are. Without consciously trying to be brave, they often exhibit extraordinary courage. Ever true to themselves, they always know which side they are on. In spite of sometimes disastrous setbacks, they never give up. They are truly the unsung heroes of this story.

When I grow up, I want to be like Hamish and Frydissa.