|Southern post of Riccdare|
Strange it seems that when I am writing a scene and a picture -- an actual photograph, this time -- displaying the same setting I'm thinking about appears. There's even a dusting of snow, like I imagined. Does this take away from the fantasy element in my mind? Not in my eyes -- I believe the closer to real life, the better fantasy. Kinda like feeling the earth in your hands. Probably why I prefer this genre' to Sci-fi -- more to relate to.
Time for a snippet of Book four (still untitled):
Armond stood his ground – his look was grim – but outward appearances concealed strange pride. Few save lords and those honored laid foot upon the hallowed heights of the mountain, and if it weren’t for a nudge from Brenn at his side, he would have resembled the stoic peak itself.
“What is it, shrimp? Can’t you see the wagon approaches?” Armond asked in a whisper.
“I am cold,” muttered Brenn, a gale blowing hair into his eyes. “It may be autumn still, but it is already winter on this peak.”
“Can’t you be more like your cousins and pipe down?”
“Drago and Zerrin are used to the cold…”
Brenn cut his words short as a funeral carriage pulled by four sable palfreys made its way to the top, enduring the long climb. Its lone rider wore nothing but black, from the crest of his hood to the leather of his boots. The carriage made an ominous sound – a glass-sided wagon that bore a gilded-coffin. Two lines of witnesses stood with heads bowed to honor their fallen lord as it passed. Gifted hands built the vault for the specific purpose of a king’s burial – the last of his line, King Anor II.