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The Saga of Sweetangel – Part 14

Well, thanks for staying with it folks!

Here’s the last part of Sweetangel!

Uhoh, better start thinking of new stuff to blog about.

 

Have a good weekend!

 

“Just Longthorn, Poulter and Elsewise,”

“Though Elsewise doesn’t like to do fieldwork,”

“So young Turtle will stand in his stead.”

Before Dhrudj could ask what he meant,

One, then one more, of the kidnappers fell,

And Poulter stood behind them, blade red.

 

Dhrudj screamed for his men to attack,

And so Longthorn seized his chance to escape,

Rolling away from sword-point with speed.

Though Dhrudj’s men attacked Poulter,

Suddenly they were outnumbered three times,

By urchins and the adults they freed.

 

The skirmish was bloody and swift,

And not all of the weakened slaves survived,

But Turtle and Frog fought tooth and nail.

Together the urchin girls leapt,

Savaging a captor with kicks and bites,

Quickly dragging him down to the shale.

 

Longthorn dragged himself to his feet,

And though bloodied and beaten he faced Dhrudj,

And said: “Stand down- we came for the girl.”

“Never!” spat Dhrudj and raised his sword,

But Longthorn had taken a souvenir,

From the workshop of Everys Pearl.

 

He reached behind, into his belt,

And drew out the little blunderkiss gun,

With its single buckshot blast of lead.

Dhrudj was not one for surrender,

So he swung his scimitar all the same,

But it did him no good, with no head.

 

Some of the men asked for mercy,

While others tried to flee up the mineshaft,

But the slaves were in no mood for grace.

After the bloodshed was done with,

Longthorn and Poulter were glad to see Frog,

With a smile of relief on her face.

 

“Thank you, thank you!” shouted Turtle,

Though Frog was too weak to get excited,

Underfed and fighting for each breath.

Poulter offered to carry her,

His heart restored by finding her alive,

Healing the wound of his poor wife’s death.

 

Poulter and Longthorn led them up,

Taking the lostlings to sky and freedom,

A haul of some thirty people found.

“We were only hired to find one,”

Joked Poulter, so Longthorn replied to him:

“They went not to the sea, but the ground!”

 

Turtle said: “I must repay you,”

“Me and Frog will work for your firm for free,”

“We’ll be your eyes and ears on the streets.”

Longthorn replied: “You have a deal,”

“And I believe we have room for some bunks,”

“If you think you’d like pillows and sheets.”

 

Poulter made no form of protest,

Knowing that he’d live if his heart could heal,

And that Longthorn needed some joy too.

Instead they led the slaves away,

To a flophouse where they could recover,

And then back to the fog they withdrew.

 

Dirtlings still talked of Sweetangel,

Though the nature of the myth slowly changed,

Due to what Turtle and Frog would say.

They would correct other urchins:

“Villains, not innocents, should be afraid,”

“Sweetangel takes bad people away.”

[sociable]

The Saga of Sweetangel – Part 13

Hi folks, sorry for not posting yesterday!

There goes the commitment to posting every day!

In my defence, I was so full of cold that I could barely string a sentence together.

Anyway, here’s the penultimate episode of Sweetangel!

 

Dirtlings of all shapes and sizes,

Matching their name with dirt covered faces,

Laboured slowly by flickering light.

Each man, woman and child wore chains,

And worried lodeshells from their rocky beds,

Spurred on by the threat of the whip’s bite.

 

Turtle spotted Frog right away,

On a lower level with ten urchins,

And a guard from whose belt hung a key.

Dhrudj and his men were packing shells,

Into crates that bore ellingfant motifs,

To smuggle out as Hashmiri tea.

 

Poulter slipped down to the low ground,

And began sneaking up behind the guard,

With Turtle to help calm the children.

Longthorn crept to the older slaves,

Hoping that once freed they would join the fight,

But he was seen by Dhrudj’s brethren.

 

Two men came down upon Longthorn,

And he fought them hard with fist and razor,

But three more jailors came to their aid.

He felled two before they stopped him,

But the rest beat Longthorn with their cudgels,

And Dhrudj threatened him with a curved sword.

 

“Who are you?” the thug demanded,

“I spy a tattoo of the Pope’s Navy,”

“But you’re a long way from God my friend.”

“I lost my faith and left my post,”

“After Greywater Bay,” murmured Longthorn,

“But I’m not afraid to face my end.”

 

“Brothers, I know this man,” said Dhrudj,

“I captured him along with his crewmen,”

“When I sailed as a cannon for hire.”

“How and why did you find our mine?”

“Are there others who would threaten my work?”

Dhrudj used his scimitar to enquire.

[sociable]

Our Daily Beard – 13/03/13

Good afternoon.

Today I embrace the infinite by crossing the borders of consciousness in a locomotive trance state.

Actually, I’m updating my blog from the car.
Don’t worry, I’m not driving!

I am, as the song goes, the passenger. There’s something very odd about long car journeys- moving between places, watching the road come and go, glimpsing the landmarks along the way.

Roads have long been associated with magic and the psyche; there’s the symbolic journey, the ritual of driving and the kind of trance that comes from a menial but engaging task.

That said, it can be a funny old time, spending a few hours going to and from your 95 year old Nan’s nursing home. With little to do but think and occasionally see landmarks from your childhood, it can be quite a melancholy experience.

It can also bring a smile to your face as the timeless vacuum of the road summons forth memories you might have thought lost.

Here’s to my Nan Jess, who at 95 drinks better and more whiskey that I currently do.

Back to the Saga of Sweetangel tomorrow!