It’s the weekend, when I’m supposed to post story extras and stuff. Trying to keep up with that. Those of you not interested in this, come back on Monday. I’m working on slew of informative articles that ought to be right up your alley (collectives, adding PW to ad chains, world pages, website extras like chat boxes, and a discussion about webcomic title images).

Part of the reason I’m taking a hiatus from The War of Winds this month is so I can focus on editing the novel that the comic is based on. Here’s a snippet from Chapter 7: Lesser Evils, and the corresponding comic pages.  The “lesser evils” title refers to many things, but mainly about past and present choices that 3 characters (Vrin, Ravar and Mersnai) have made.  I would of course welcome thoughts on what you think those decisions were, but I think the hints I laid down in this chapter were too vague yet. A sharp mind ought to be able to connect the dots, however.

I find it amazing how much my writing style has changed over the years. The original version of this chapter was written in 2003 or so. At the time, I was heavily into The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan, obviously a maximalist fantasy work. I now am much more minimalist, preferring to hint at rather than be explicit. Minimalism also makes everything MUCH shorter, and the few descriptions I use stick out much more. I still love WoT though, that’s for damn sure. I also have quite the fondness for em-dashes. I find they replicate speech patterns much truer than more traditional methods.

Also, a note about Ravar’s syntax: Ayenroki try never to use contractions. When they slip up and use them, it’s supposed to be a very big faux paus. Ravar loosens up as you get to know him, but at this point he’s still pretty rigid.

—-

(Corresponding to these 2 pages: 1, 2)

“Where is the thief?” he asked again, growing vexed. Her arms twitched as he increased the level of pain she felt; he frowned. She should not have been able to twitch.

In a voice different than the one she had previously spoken with—deeper, more guttural—she replied, “You’re not very good at this, are you, half-man?”  Ravar felt his hackles rise at the sound of the voice, though he could not reason why. “A real Rrah’ashī Master could reach into this mind and pull out the thought he wanted. But you…” the voice trailed off, chuckling darkly. “You rely on brute force and pain, child of the destroyers.”

“You seek to mock me, human?” the half-man snarled.  “That is unwise, considering your position.”

“Mock you? I speak only truth, Ravar. An interesting—true—name, that,” the voice mused. “Said the same, front as reverse. Did anyone ever tell you what that meant? Half a name, mirrored on itself?” The Ayenroki felt his mouth go dry as the voice continued, answering its own question, “It means you are only half, half-man.” She paused, then smirked, still not looking at him with the rolled back eyes. “I made a joke.”

“Do not try to play with me,” Ravar warned, narrowing his eyes.  He felt his alignment slipping, and righted himself.  The voice grunted as the Ayenroki straightened the fingers on Vrin’s forehead, as though rotating a very small, very sharp, invisible knife.  “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” the voice repeated. “Ayenroki, you chose the wrong head in which to muck around.”  Ravar’s fingers, mere tools of physical alignment, jerked as something pushed against him-something he could neither see nor sense, but it existed nonetheless. He felt his fingers slowly turn clockwise, and despite how he strained, they would not straighten. Vrin’s hands raised themselves up as though pulled by invisible threads, every muscle and fiber in the arms starkly showing, flexed and strained, beneath pale skin.  Even in the darkness, Ravar could see the rows of scars that stretched vertically down both wrists, thick and white scars that stood out against the shadow-scars that should have killed. “Get out of it, now.”  Her lips were pulled back to reveal her teeth, held by bloodless gums.  The force that pushed against his ashī strengthened further, testing.

Ravar narrowed his eyes, confused.  Holding to his tenuous alignment, he asked again, “Who are you?”

“I am but one,” she replied, the joints of her fingers popping and clicking as she clenched and unclenched her hands. Her body seemed pressed against the wall by a force larger than Ravar himself, something invisible.

“That was not what I asked, Vrin,” he growled.

“You may think you know my name, I know your name, Ravar.”  Her mouth grinned, completely incongruent to the strain her body showed. A bead of sweat ran down the contour of her cheek, passing rolled-back eyes and catching on the edge of her lip.  The Ayenroki glanced down at the sensation of heat on his chest as saw his kireken, his crystal talisman, glowing a muted red like a nearly doused coal. It had never done that before. “You’re still in this head, Ayenroki,” the voice brought his eyes back up.  “It’s not a place you want to be.”

Ravar felt himself growing frustrated. “I do not care for your games! Tell me where Talon is!”

The woman sighed, unfazed by the anger in his voice.  “You are not welcome here, bastard child of two forms. Leave!” she hissed, baring teeth. “And do it skillfully. I will be very unhappy with you if you damage this mind.  Hurting her, or trying to kill her, would not serve your well.”

“Kill you?” Ravar growled, finally releasing the hold on her mind and instead snatching a wrist, “I have no need to kill you.  It looks like you have already tried enough.” He tossed her scarred forearm down, withdrawing all that he had done. Vrin dropped to the floor limply, a tangle of confused, shaking, limbs. “You are unnatural, whatever you are. From one second the next, you are different. It disgusts me,” the Ayenroki spat. “Slesseneġ.”