Another Sample

Here is another sample of my writing. This is all me--no co-writers. Please comment! Let me know if this interests you. I can email you the chapters I have so far. This book is almost done, but I need help deciding how it should end. Comments are welcome!

Alba, North of Britannia: 90 AD

Rígh Earnan of the Luirg tribe of Alba sat on his horse, waiting for his children to catch up. He looked at the group, following their father from a distance. The gods had blessed him with three sons and two daughters before his wife had died. He wanted to teach the boys to hunt, but the girls were much too young to be left alone. At the top of the hill, Earnan sighed and looked up at the cloudy sky. The overcast heavens above him nearly matched his gray head and beard, which he stroked thoughtfully as he looked down at the ground and spotted something of interest.

“Come, Duncan!” he called to his eldest, encouraging him to lead the others and hurry them along. “We’ve a lot to do, and not enough sunlight.” Why hadn’t he left the girls with one of the women at the dun? They were only a hindrance to him, and he knew they would do nothing but complain while out in the hills. They were further than they had ever been from home, and he knew the girls wouldn’t like that.

The children caught up on their animals, and went on to follow their father down the hill to a stream at the base of the hill. Earnan got off his horse and squatted down by the stream. He looked downstream to the wooded area and looked at some deer tracks in the grass.

“Duncan, Taran, Nevin! Look at this!” the father instructed. The boys got off their animals and squatted down near their father.

“What is it, Da?” the youngest of his boys, Nevin, asked. At four, he was eager to learn how to track and shoot. Nevin’s sandy hair fell into his face, hiding his bright blue eyes. He moved the hair out of his way and inspected where his father was pointing.

“A deer,” Earnan answered. “He’s headed into the woods.”

“Are ye sure it’s a buck, Da?” Duncan referred to the masculine pronoun his father had used. Duncan, sixteen, and his brother Taran, twelve, had been hunting and learning to fight for a few years now, but they still had much to learn from their warrior-Rígh father. They looked similar in all except height. Both were slender, but strong, especially for their age, with strong features, like their father. They also possessed the same sandy brown hair that Nevin had; again a trait received from their father.

“How old do you think he is?” Aileen asked, causing her brothers and father to look back at her in question. She was not there to learn to hunt. She was there to simply wait for them to come home. When she got no answer, Aileen raised her eyebrows at her family. Earnan rolled his eyes and sighed, turning back to the stream. Aileen took her two-year-old sister, Nessa, off the small mare they had ridden and set her on the ground before pulling her own bright copper hair into a bun, keeping it in place with a bronze decorated pin. She watched the males of the family go off into the woods with their spears and bows and arrows, feeling forgotten and useless. Nessa played with some leaves and sticks nearby, and Aileen simply waited.

At nearly sundown, the men came back, carrying a small buck, tied up with ropes. Aileen gathered her sister up in her arms and went to the horse. When the men were loaded and ready, she followed them towards home. There was not enough light to bring them all the way home, so they built a fire in the valley and set up camp.

Dinner was late that night, as Earnan had to prepare the buck with only a little help from Duncan. Aileen was pulling her bright red hair back into a bun again (since the previous one had been pulled out by Nessa) when Taran informed her that Da wanted her.

“Yes, Da?” she said, taking a seat on a tree stump near the fire where the deer was cooking. At eleven, Aileen was already quite the lady of the house. When her mother died giving birth to Nessa, she immediately had to fulfill the role of mother, helping her father to raise the younger ones as best she could.

“Aileen, your… question got me thinking,” Earnan began. Duncan, who was standing nearby, glanced up and listened.

“Aye?” she responded.

“You have quite a bit of responsibility on your shoulders, girl,” he continued. “But I also realize that you are able to handle a lot. You’re a very strong girl.”

“Thank you,” she said, wondering where the conversation was going.

“You ought to be strong, being Ríbhinn and all. Anyhow, this isn’t easy to say,” Earnan went on, shifting uncomfortably as he looked at his daughter’s small frame. “I think you should learn to defend yourself. We’ve heard of the Romans taking over whole towns along the border in the south, and we don’t know if they will continue to move north, towards us.”

“Da, that was years ago—”

“And it’s been going on in Alba alone for over ten years! Britannia was defeated many years ago—the Romans will be very hard to defeat!” Earnan exclaimed. “You are Ríbhinn of our tribe, Aileen. If something ever happened to your brothers and I, I want to at least give you a fighting chance at survival.”

Aileen hung her head at this morbid notion.

“And I want you to teach Nessa, when she’s old enough,” he added.

Aileen stared at her father blankly. What was she to say?

“You already have a curiosity for hunting and things outside the home, where your usual duties are, but I want you to learn more.” He paused, looking into her light blue eyes. “You deserve more of a chance than what you’ve got now.”

"The Tide" Intro

I'll try to only post a small portion at a time so it won't be overwhelming. Enjoy. Comment.

The sun shone brightly through the small window, onto her pale face. She squinted, turning her head away from the bright light. Her green eyes surveyed the tiny area around her, searching for another place to sit—where the piercing rays would not blind her.

Ceileah Maher’s appearance bespoke of her heritage in every way. Her long, curling, auburn hair told of journeys taken through thick woods, with ivy and ferns covering the twisted roots of all kinds of trees. Her eyes reflected lush green pastures, sprinkled with dew on misty mornings. Her freckles seemed to just fall onto her nose and cheeks, like snow on rosy petals. Not in hindrance of her beauty, Ceileah wore simple clothes of hand sewn brown cotton. She wore a gray coat over her dress, and had dull brown leather shoes on her feet, with wool stockings underneath.

Ceileah looked to her right to see her friends still sleeping. Jacob and Annie O’Brian, her friends since childhood, had been married for just about five years now. They were a bit older than her; Jacob, twenty-three, and Annie, twenty-two. Ceileah was only nineteen, and looked up to her friends, hoping she might one day have a marriage like theirs. Smiling, she nudged Annie with her knee.

“Too early,” Annie groaned, rolling over to bury her head in her husband’s shoulder. Annie’s sandy blonde hair fell onto her light face, covering it almost completely. You could see her thin lips through her strands of hair, and her curved nose that ended in a slight upward slope. Her active childhood still played a part in her features. There were scars on her forearms that seemed to follow up to her neck: proof that girls were not too afraid to face danger. She had always been the roughest girl Ceileah had ever known. Ceileah remembered climbing rocks and trees with Annie, and swimming in the chilly river not far from their home.

Jacob’s features were strong but gentle, just as he was when Annie was near. He was slightly tan from working on his father’s cargo ship, and had short, brown hair that seemed to go whichever way it wanted to. His eyes were dark from lack of sleep, though when fully rested, his eyes would give his gentleness away. His nose, casting a shadow on his long face, curved downward. His lips were thin, and his jaw square with short brown hair that sprinkled his face. He was a handsome man, being well built from years of hard work.

Ceileah frowned, desiring for someone to talk to and looked around again, wishing that if she would not be allowed to chat with her friends, then the sun would simply leave her alone, and let her go back to sleep.

There were many others on the boat, heading for America. Ceileah wondered if they were any closer to land. She had heard the captain the day before, saying that they would arrive today. Ceileah rose to her feet sleepily and looked out the window. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened, seeing Boston Harbor not too far away. Excitedly, she bent down to wake her friends. “Annie! Annie, get up! We’re here!” Ceileah said, her thick Irish accent permeating every syllable. “Jacob! Wake up!”

Jacob sighed, blinking groggily as he straightened himself against the wall. He sleepily ran his fingers through his short hair, making it even more of a mess. He scratched his jaw and looked up at Ceileah, telling her that he was too tired to care. Annie woke, feeling her husband stretching, her eyes shifting around the room, still sleeping, trying to remember where she was and suddenly coming to life when the excited words had sunk in.

“Are you sure?” Annie asked. Jacob smiled at his wife's absent-mindedness and kissed her gently. Annie smiled and stretched.

“I can see the dock!” Ceileah exclaimed. “Look for yourself!”

Annie got up, stumbling wearily as she looked out the window, her hazel eyes being pierced by the sunlight. Ceileah went to her left, gently waking the frail woman still sleeping on the floor. “Mum,” Ceileah said softly, shaking the woman slightly. “Mum, get up! We’ve made it! We’re here!”

“Unnhhh?” the mother muttered, trying to straighten herself. Sarah Maher had the same green eyes as her daughter, but they were fading with age and physical strain, not to mention the sickness that had overwhelmed her recently. Her graying red hair curled around her thin face, coming out of the thin linen scarf she wore on her head. “Are we there already?”

“Yes, Mum, we’re here!” the daughter repeated. Ceileah got up and headed for the door that led up to the deck. “Captain!” she called out, seeing the older man looking out towards the Harbor. “Is this Boston?”

“Yes, young lady, it is,” he answered, turning to face her. “A bit excited?” he teased. Ceileah blushed as she walked to the port side of the ship and looked down the shoreline.
“When can we get off?” she asked.

“As soon as the boat is docked,” he told her.

Remembering something, Ceileah rushed down the stairs again. She nearly knocked over a thin woman as she ran to where she had been sleeping. “Sorry!” she called out behind her, bending down to make sure all her things were packed in her small travel bag. Annie and Jacob were packing their things as well, talking quietly between them. Sarah sat up and began to double-check her bag, making sure everything was ready to go. When everyone was set, the four immigrants got up and went to the deck.

Sarah took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and raising her face to the heavens. “Dias—go raibh maith agat,” she whispered, thanking God. Indeed He was to be thanked. After all, He was the one who had led them here after Sarah’s husband died, and the one who had given them protection while on the sea.

At long last, they had arrived.