Whispers of White Sapphire’s manuscript has reached completion! The word count is now approximately 120,000 words – so I hit my target goal.
Just to celebrate – I figured I’d show something from the manuscript – the Table of Contents!
I am also preparing to write a professional blurb, hopefully, later next month, so that I can take down the placeholder!
The new illustration of Khios Continent’s redone map is also set to commence next month—I’m so excited about that!
I have a manuscript evaluation set to begin at the end of the year, so Whispers of White Sapphire is indeed on its way into production.
Also, I have a snippet from the current draft!
A waning crescent moon lit the night sky on the horizon, and a glittering sea of stars shone in the heavens. Seated in Sky Dancer’s saddle and hidden amid the outskirts of the An-Hara forests, Sagra observed a township ablaze in the distance—Sayara, or so the Old Myrians had named the settlement.
The township was compact in design, with scores of homesteads and cabins stacked in terraced layers atop one another. The estates of the Sayaran nobility adorned the township’s peaks as if a jeweled crown was placed atop the township. She spied storage granaries and places of industry amongst the urban sprawl, everything encircled by ancient fortress walls of sunbaked stone, crumbled and sagging in several areas.
Despite the midnight hour, Sagra saw fields of golden wheat and grape vineyards, fruit plantations, and cultivated rose-thorn groves surrounding Sayara Township for leagues and leagues—a royal wreath fashioned by Mother Nature and her realm of abundance.
Several lonely farmsteads dotted the fields. Other, much larger complexes and facilities dominated the vineyards and fruit plantations. Hundreds of burning torches lit the cobblestone roads, winding through the vast expanse of half-harvested fields into Sayara Township.
Gazing into the distance, Sagra viewed Sayara and her outlying territory for leagues in any direction amid the sea of lit torches and lanterns scattered across the landscape.
She listened to the ambiance of the An-Haran Forest. The sound of autumn leaves rustling in the canopy and branches swaying gently in the wind calmed her mind. The droning of cicadas mingled with the resonance of the forest underbrush. Occasionally, a predator’s ferocious roar shattered the tranquility, followed by erratic sound disturbances, then the thrashing of prey.
Her conversation with the other elders of the White and Vermilion Wolves from earlier afternoon resurfaced in her mind.
“There are two alternate pathways out of the forests of An-Hara,” Sagra recalled Chiefess Munkh saying during the Council of Tribes. “We might simply wait for dawn to break over this strange land and wait for the Old Myrians to give battle to us outside this settlement called Sayara.“
“Or,” Arban had suggested after the former Chiefess had spoken. “We can consider a night raid on this settlement since the Old Myrian army threatening to assail us is garrisoned inside the town, protected by weak fortifications, half-collapsed from neglect and constant exposure to the elements. Should your band of daring warriors consider an assault on Sayara, the elder chieftains are prepared to send many warriors to assist you in conquering the settlement.“
“Set Sayara ablaze,” Dawa had summarized. “Raze everything to ashes. Slice open the throats of every Old Myrian sleeping in their beds. Slay any resistance and anyone before you. Sack what supplies you can from Sayara’s surrounding farms and vineyards. Bring back whatever bounty you can find for your kinsmen.“
“Sayara appears lost in blissful sleep,” Isra said, hushed. “Yet the moment our wolves emerge from the shadows, we might find ourselves in a hornet’s nest instead of a den of prey.”
Sagra shrugged. Her eyes remained focused on Sayara in the distance as she spoke. “Our kindred wolves will find a way to prevail over their numbers. You, however…” she trailed off in her sentence to glance in the Child of the Sun’s direction. “Should not be so near to Sayara? Everyone is armed, and imminent bloodshed approaches. Go. Return to the encampment and wait for Tarkhan’s and my return.”
“I’ll be fine, Sagra,” said Isra. “The elders sent me to observe the battle’s course and aftermath from somewhere nearby. This spot seems a good enough place to keep watch.”
Sagra glanced behind her at the formation of thirty mounted White and Vermilion Wolves, obscured amid the craggy, forested terrain. They armed themselves with long spears and composite bows slung over their shoulders. Quivers full of deadly arrows hung from their backs, and light barding protected their swift war steeds.
“Listen for Tarkhan’s signal,” she said, “and keep your eyes sharp. His mounted cavalry might come storming across the fields at any moment.”
Silence reigned over the tranquil region of Sayara. Its populace had fallen asleep well before midnight, and Sagra’s warriors idled through the late night without complaint. She continued to scan the region, noting hundreds of guards—defenders of Cressa’s Lantern, patrolling the outlying roads on Sayara’s surrounding outskirts.
“I can hear an approaching disturbance from farther south of us,” Isra whispered above the sounds of the living forest.
Sagra craned toward her left, staring across the fields in the distance. At first, she heard nothing, then the echoes of steel ringing against steel. Other commotions played out from the same direction before her mind registered the noise as Old Myrians shouting warnings of an assault.
Distant lights manifested on the horizon as if lit torches cast impossibly high into the air. As the lights slowly lost momentum over the first outlying farmsteads and their respective fields, Sagra watched the flaming arrows descend on the unsuspecting foe.
After their descent, the lights quickly snuffed themselves out, one after the other. Yet, larger lights kindled into view as scattered fires fanned the surrounding fields and homesteads.
“That’s our signal,” Sagra cried at the exact moment she drew a vicious sword from its sheathe. “Ride hard,” she said, “and run down anyone that stands before you. Spare none the bite of your steel. We aim to route the Old Myrians outside the township walls and force them inside. Then, we set Sayara alight before storming the settlement. Leave no one alive outside the township’s gates.” She paused momentarily before shouting into the calm night. “Death walks with those that have mastered the hunt! Wolves of White and Vermilion ride as swift as the wind!”