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Dear readers, 'Vilu Nilenad' has moved to a new home with the folks over at Wordpress. This site will be an archive of the first half of 'The Endless Circle'. Hope you enjoy the new site!

Lifting the Lid - Part 2: Friends come and go ...

It's funny how a story can evolve. Looking back on chapter 17 of 'The Endless Circle', 'Falen', I am reminded of what could have been.

In the first draft of the book Falen did not die. In fact, the plan was for him to join our trio on their journey to Padascel, where he would have played a big part in the rescue of Father and the eventual confrontation of the galac-men. However, things can change a lot on the long road from "Once upon a time" to "The End" and sometimes there are casualties.

The character of Falen sprang from the young soldier you last saw cradling the dying form of an older comrade in the camp in the forest. I wrote that scene to suggest that the concepts of 'good' and 'bad' cannot be pre-judged, and that we cannot condemn someone based on first impressions alone but rather by what we observe of them over time. At the time of writing I just thought it was a nice scene and gave little thought to who these two people were or where they were coming from (which, looking back on it, seems a little hypocritical).

Then I began to write more about Haemel. I fleshed out his story and gave him some motivation, and when they got to Craec Annwn and I saw the line in my notes that said, "Haemel goes and interrogates a soldier," I realised that I had to show Haemel for who he was - a hardened warrior himself - and to do this he had to get nasty.

This was when the character of the young soldier popped back into my mind. I reasoned that seeing as I had a character the readers already knew, I could exploit a sense of attachment and have Haemel interrogate him violently, in order to create some ambiguity around Haemel.

This would reinforce the point that Banac makes when he says that he and Balor cannot trust Haemel, and would help create dramatic tension, with the reader knowing something about Haemel that the boys did not. I should note that at this time I had not written in Haemel's interrogation of the white-robed man.


I made the switch to Falen's point of view, and had a whole long flashback starting with him burying the old soldier (whose name does not spring to mind at the moment) then remembering how he was enlisted in the Baron's guard and how the gruff old soldier was his only friend. I wanted to create a connection between Falen and the reader, then sever that connection suddenly and violently by means of Haemel.

I wrote the death scene (more gruesome than it is in the book) then had Hamel bury the body and walk away back to the sleeping Banac and Balor. In the notebook I was using at the time I then immediately drew a line and wrote, "No. Don't kill Falen. He's too nice to lose." I had fallen into my own trap! Plus I felt that it was a bit harsh to kill a fourteen-year-old (for no good reason) in a book written for teenagers.

So I saved Falen's life. Haemel interrogated him, took pity on him, and brought him along for the ride.

However.

This created two problems, unforeseen by me at the time:

1. I had inadvertently changed Haemel's character. No longer was he an enigmatic beremer, imbuing the boys' quest with an air of uncertainty and menace. Instead he became a kindly uncle-figure, mentoring Falen and Banac as they sparked off each other. It did create a neat situation where Banac saw his place being usurped by Falen, arousing feelings of jealousy which were nice to write - but ultimately Haemel was suffering. I had taken away his teeth, and thus the very thing that made him interesting in the first place.

2. I now had an extra character on my hands, on what was already becoming a very crowded stage. As I said, there was some nice tension between Banac and Falen, with Falen replacing Banac as a more dependable and likeable brother-figure for Balor; but I had to create extra motivations for this new guy, give him a place in dialogue, and, ultimately, give him something to do.

This last point was the clincher. When they arrived at Padascel Falen pretty much faded into the background. I gave him things to do, even his own subplot involving a wicked uncle and a plan to infiltrate the ranks of the galac-men. But in the end I realised that he had no use other than to bother Banac, which, while fun in its own way, was a function already fulfilled by Haemel and so a distraction from the story.

This is a lesson learned the hard way by most writers: Story is King. If a character, scene, subplot, turn of phrase or anything else gets in the way if the story, it has to go. I liked Falen. I had become fond of him. I had saved his life, for crying out loud! But, alas, it seemed that his time had come.

I went back through the chapters and gently excised Falen from them, until he was nothing more than a ghost on the pages of my memory. I had Haemel kill him off, though I altered it so that he was not the young soldier and never would be. Who knows - I may just go back and write The Adventures of the Young Soldier and the Old Dude Before He Got Himself Killed.

But for now Falen is dead.

Long live Falen.

P.S: On my latest re-write I came across a remnant of Falen hidden in the text. These happen all the time (who noticed the wood-pigeons that magically became rabbits?) where I change something in one place and not in another. In Falen's case he turned up in the phrase "the three of them" where it should have been changed to "the two of them" in a scene where Falen had been present before his untimely demise at my hands. It made me laugh to think that Falen was still hanging around in the ether, a shadowy form seen out of the corner of Haemel's eye, haunting him for the evils he had performed upon him.

Good News!

Good news everyone! To celebrate the half-way point of 'The Endless Circle' I have released the first volume in print form. Subtitled 'The Holy Place', it is available to buy from Lulu.com. Click on the links to see a preview and to buy the book. I will release the second volume when all the chapters are posted.

As always, enjoy!

The Endless Circle - Chapter 19: Trust

"The river was a white-flecked torrent, a roaring,
rushing monster with no discernible way to cross."

They woke after midnight, roused by Haemel’s touch, and packed up the camp with bleary eyes and jaw-cracking yawns. Banac was the worst-tempered of the three, bothered by his argument with Haemel and his lack of sleep. Balor left him to himself, and helped Haemel as much as he could.

Half an hour later they left the dell and made their way silently down the hill.  Haemel led the way with Balor beside him, and Banac bringing up the rear in stony silence. No-one said anything. The moon was out in a clear sky, waning from the full, and her clean silver light threw sharp shadows away from them across the ground. Occasionally Banac glanced over at Balor, but mostly he kept his eyes on Haemel’s broad back, turning his resentment over in his mind, trying to think of a way to prove himself right.

At the bottom of the hill they turned on to a narrow road that twisted between tall trees; after half an hour of following it they began to hear a faint rushing of water coming from their left. The road forked, and Haemel led them left down a long slope. At the bottom of the slope the hedgerows came to an end and they found themselves in an open meadow that ran down to the bank of the wide, fast-flowing river glimmering in the moonlight.

The Year Ahead ...

Happy New Year, all. Thanks to all those who have been following 'The Endless Circle' on this blog. I hope you are enjoying it.

Hopefully 2012 will be a year of expansion here at Vilu Nilenad. I have plenty more to add, and will be branching out into other threads, including:

• 'The Christmas Cat': A winter story for ages 8+, written for my nephews a couple of years ago and featuring them in the main roles. I plan to illustrate this one myself!
• A lot more 'Lifting the Lid', including scans of original drafts, sketches, artwork, and an insight into my own writing process.
• Reviews of books I have read and particularly enjoy, focusing on those with strong moral content.
• The opportunity for Q&As.
• More short stories and books as they come.

Plus, I might even tell you what 'Vilu Nilenad' actually means. If you're good.

So here's to the coming year. Keep reading, keep commenting, and keep enjoying.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 18: Responsibility

"The town’s main street was the dirtiest, smelliest
and most crowded place they had ever seen in their lives."

After an hour of waiting Banac was beginning to grow restless. He sat at the edge of the clearing with his knees drawn up to his chest, looking down into the valley, watching for any sign of the white-skinned figure returning.

“Where is he?” he muttered, half to himself. “He should have been back by now.”

Balor looked up from where he was collecting mushrooms on the far side of the clearing.

“He’ll come back,” he said, unconcerned.

“I don’t know,” said Banac. He looked out again. Balor seemed to have forgotten that somewhere down there Father was being held, probably in a dungeon filled with rats. It rankled Banac that he had to sit up here waiting for Haemel to return, when by rights he should be down there, rescuing Father.

He sat for a while longer, shifting his weight whenever his legs began to fall to sleep. The incessant splashing of the waterfall behind him had begun to grate on his nerves. He tried to think of something else, to imagine something other than Father rotting in a cell, but in the end he could wait not longer.

“I’m going down,” he said, standing and brushing himself down.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 17: Falen

"The hillside was quiet, apart from the sighing of the wind
and the mournful bleating of the sheep."

In the hall of Craec Annwn the soldiers were waking up after their night of revelry. Coughs and groans filled the air as they stirred their stinking, ale-soaked bodies.

The last to wake was a young man whose name was Falen. At twenty years old he was allowed to call himself a man, but in truth he was scarcely more than a lad: his beard was sparse, and his voice still cracked occasionally. He was more hung-over than the rest, his eyeballs as dry as sandpaper and an ache in his head the size of a fist; as he sat up and rubbed his eyes the pain intensified, making him wince and clap his hands to his temples.

There were laughs from the other end of the hall.

“Hey! Look! Baby’s up at last!”

“You all right, mate? Bit of a lightweight, ain’t yer?”

“‘E is, isn’t ‘e?”

“Oi! Falen! You should stick to milk, mate!”

Lifting the Lid - Part 1

For those of you who are interested in the craft of writing, I've put together a series of articles that lift the lid on my own writing process.

Of course, everyone's writing process is different, and I can only speak for myself. But I hope that these may prove helpful and instructional for readers wanting to get into writing themselves.


For this first installment, I thought it would be interesting to give an example of something that happens more often than you might think: life imitating art (or as we say in the business - 'blind luck').

When I wrote the sixteenth chapter of 'The Endless Circle' I spent some time coming up with the description of Craec Annwn. Here are the resulting drafts (scroll down if these bore you):

'The Endless Circle' - Chapter 16: Haemel

"Upon its summit a castle crouched, like some predatory beast ..."

Banac woke with a start and sat up sharply, looking around in confusion. For some reason he was not in his warm, comfortable bed, but in the middle of a wood with the bright sun shining down in dappled shades of green through the canopy overhead. For a moment he was baffled, then he looked down at Balor’s small form lying with his head in his lap, and slowly the events of the night before came back to him, and he knew it had not been a dream.

He yawned and stretched his aching limbs, taking care not to disturb Balor. He looked around again, remembering more and more of the details of the previous twelve hours. In the cheerful light of day it seemed impossible that such things had taken place, here in this peaceful wood. But they had: the standing stones, the fire, the galac-men, the beremer ...

The beremer! He twisted his head, looking this way and that, but the glade was empty. They were alone. The beremer had not kept his word. He had left them here and run off.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 15: The Feasting-Hall

"In the middle place sat the Baron, champing on his food
as spit and juices dribbled down his chin."

As the soldiers rode away from the hollow in the forest Father’s only thought was of Banac. He was proud of his boy, proud that he had found him, that he had dared to come after him in the first place. But mingled with the pride was fear, and shame: he should never have allowed Banac to get involved in this.

He tried to comfort himself. Haemel was there, Haemel would be with him. If there was anyone in the world he would trust with Banac’s life it was Haemel.

He offered up a prayer to Cafan that they would be kept safe and brought out alive. But even as he formed the words in his mind he felt the same doubt that had come to him when he had seen the soldiers on the beach and the look of fear in his wife’s eyes. When the test had come, when the world had intruded on his faith, his faith had wavered, and now he trusted more in Haemel than he ever had in Cafan.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 14: Escape

"The beremer’s eyes snapped open ..."

The beremer was still unconscious, lying with his head back and his neck exposed, his eyes shut fast. Banac hissed at him and patted his face once or twice, all the time keeping half an eye on the galac-men as they busied themselves quenching the flames. But his efforts had no effect, and time was running out.

Quickly he picked up the sword and started sawing at the ropes. The blade was sharp, and though the ropes were thick and tightly knotted they soon fell away in limp coils. Banac looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he saw how much the smoke had cleared. The galac-men had brought the fire under control, and some of them were beginning to stand back and re-organise themselves.

He looked back down at the the beremer: he was as comatose as ever, his limbs limp and heavy. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Banac the way to the trees was still clear. He made up his mind.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 13: Sunlight

"... dark shadows of hooded men pacing round the clearing ..."

When he was sure the soldiers had gone, and the wood was silent once more, Banac rose shakily to his feet and scrambled back up the bank. Balor would still be waiting for him, alone and probably terrified out of his wits. He retraced his steps back to the tree where he had left Balor; but when he reached it his stomach knotted in alarm. The place was deserted. Balor was gone.

Panic gripped him, and for a horrible moment he imagined that Balor had been found and taken away along with the beremer. Then a hiss came from near his feet, and someone whispered his name:

“Banac? Is that you?”

The Endless Circle - Chapter 12: Rescue

"It would only be a matter of seconds to untie Father’s cords ..."

Banac crouched low as he made his way towards the torches. He felt energised. No longer were they lost or aimless. He had a fresh purpose now, a mission to accomplish. He tried to think like a hero, and moved as silently as he could.

When he was close enough to the torches to feel the heat of the flames he dropped to his belly and wormed his way past them, squirming along the ground until he could look out into the camp beyond.

As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw that he was lying just above head-height on the lip of a steep bank that dropped into a wide semi-circular depression, a dark clearing dotted with figures and firelight. It was hard to make out details, but he could see horses tied on one side, and a number of camp fires here and there. About ten feet to his left a small group of figures was huddled around a fire. He lay still and tried to hear what they were saying.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 11: The Song

"... trees loomed ahead in the flickering torch-light,
hunched into twisted forms ..."

They followed a faint track down the hill, winding back and forth through knee-high gorse. At the bottom of the hill lay the edge of the wood, little more than an inky shadow under the burning sky. Banac went in front, knocking aside the thickest of the scrub with a stick; Balor followed patiently, pausing when his brother paused and walking where he walked.

They did not speak, but their silences were for different reasons. Banac was planning the next steps, feeling the exhilaration of leadership; Balor was pensive and moody, his mind’s eye turned back the way they had come, fretting and worrying about what they were doing.

The sun sank lower and lower, briefly setting the clouds on fire before she finally slipped out of sight. With her departure the sky began to darken and cool, and by the time they reached the tree-line dusk was deepening into warm, fragrant night. They stopped next to a dense hedge of chest-high ferns that flourished all along the edge of the wood. Balor flopped down on the grass, his cheeks flushed, the novelty of the adventure wearing off already.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 10: Pursuit

"The roof had become a bonfire,
smoke pouring upwards from the blazing thatch."

Balor ducked as the dull explosion ripped through the air; a fraction of a second later a blast of heat singed his face. He glanced out from the doorway where he was hiding. Everything was in chaos: people were running backwards and forwards through a billowing cloud of black smoke, shouting, crying, bleeding.

He looked around, trying to find Mother’s face in the confusion. He had lost hold of her as soon as the men had stormed up the beach and the soldiers guarding them had fled in the face of the attack. The women had scattered in panic, coming between Mother and him and wrenching his hand from hers. He had cried out for her and stumbled around desperately, hoping she would come back for him, but then the fighting had come upon him and he had run away, looking for shelter from the noise and violence. He had come upon the doorway and crouched there, his eyes tightly closed and his hands clamped over his ears, until the blast shook the door-posts and he looked out to see what had happened.

He could not make out much. The air was filling fast with black smoke, and the people dashing about were already little more than silhouettes. A gust of wind came in off the sea, clearing the air for a moment, and in that second he caught a glimpse of his house. He gasped. The roof had become a bonfire, smoke pouring upwards from the blazing thatch. The men and women were trying desperately to put it out, all thoughts of battle forgotten. Already the flames were reaching out to neighbouring houses: even as he watched another roof caught alight, and a fresh blast of heat rolled over him as cries of despair rose from the villagers.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 9: Arrest

"A slim blade sprang from nowhere and pressed against his cheek."

Banac’s stomach lurched. Balor clenched his hand tightly, and Mother drew them close. Banac could feel her hands trembling as she held their shoulders. He was breathless, tense, his mind whirling as he tried to take in what he had just heard.

No-one moved. Everyone was waiting to hear what the Elder would say. But Agwaen did not speak. He stood with the blade almost touching his throat and stared calmly at Aedwyc. The younger man began to grow visibly agitated. His arm trembled with the effort of keeping his sword raised, and his tongue darted out to moisten dry lips.

“What do you say, old man?” he snapped impatiently. “Will you tell me where this Beorod is cowering?”

Still Agwaen said nothing. Aedwyc clenched his teeth and raised the sword a little more. “Why do you protect him?” he said. “What is he worth to you? Must I put fire to these houses and swords to your women before I have an answer from you?”

“Aedwyc.” The voice was quiet, but it startled him so that he dropped his sword-arm. He turned, and the whole village turned with him to see who had spoken.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 8: The Baron's Men

"... a column of riders on great war-horses,
their mighty hooves tearing up the packed earth ..."

Banac and Balor were stiff and bleary-eyed when they woke from restless sleep the next morning. However, only Balor was ordered out of bed to start the day’s chores; and when he pointed out how unfair this was — quite reasonably, he thought — Mother slapped him on the thigh and told him not to be so unfeeling towards his brother.

While Balor howled to high heaven Banac lay with his face to the wall, ignoring the drama. Normally he would have enjoyed seeing his brother get into trouble, but on that morning he barely noticed. He was distracted, restless. Maybe it was an ache in his limbs that had started during the night; maybe it was tiredness from staying up late with Balor; maybe it was the tangle of unsolved mysteries going round and round in the back of his head.

Whatever it was, Banac felt he could not care about such petty things any more, and he lay unmoving as he listened to the sounds of the village and his family getting up and ready for the day.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 7: Pieces

When Balor arrived home Father was already there, sitting by the fire with a bowl of stew. He looked up when Balor came in, but he said nothing, and there was no suspicion in his eyes. Banac lay in bed, his face hidden, and Mother was busy with the fire. Grandfather was sitting in a corner, praying as usual. Balor’s eyes strayed over to his own bed where the stranger lay, but he was still asleep, covered with many blankets, and Balor could hardly see him.

He was itching for a few moments alone with Banac, but as soon as Mother saw him she sent him out for firewood; and when he had brought the firewood she asked him to stack pots; and when he had stacked the pots she asked him to tidy the bed-clothes; and he had no choice but to obey.

Even when he had finished all of the tasks she had given him there was still no opportunity to talk, with Mother and Father sitting so close by. Balor fidgeted and played with his fingers, the desire to share his news eating away inside him. Banac did not seem bothered, and this made Balor even more restless. Did he not want to know what had been said in the hall? Was he not even the least bit interested?

The Endless Circle - Chapter 6: The Long-Hall

When Balor woke the next morning there was still no sign of Banac. Mother’s eyes were red and raw, and she made his breakfast in silence, and Balor did not ask her any questions.

The men had come back late last night, empty-handed and grim-faced. As soon as it was light they had gone out again in another search party; but when they returned after breakfast without any success Mother’s face twisted into a funny shape, and she went into the house with Father and stayed there for a long time. Balor was not allowed in to see them.

“Leave them be for now, young ‘un,” Elred told him. “They’ve enough to worry about without you bothering them.”

He took Balor to the smithy, where he let him pound iron for a few hours until his face was black with smuts and his eyes watered, and he had forgotten about Banac completely. But by late afternoon Elred had run out of things for him to do, and he sent him home, warning him not to bother Mother and Father more than was necessary. When Balor ducked through the door he found them huddled to one side, whispering urgently in tense voices — and still Banac was nowhere to be seen.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 5: The Beremer

“Balor! Have you seen your brother?”

Mother wandered in and out of the house distractedly, growing more and more agitated as the light failed. Balor watched her from his place by the fire, feeling the same agitation gnaw at his own breast. Father was the only one who was not alarmed. He sat by the door with a pipe in his hand, blowing smoke into the gathering dusk.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he said. “You know Banac — always running off for one thing or another.”

“But he looked upset! Didn’t he look upset?” Mother glanced outside again. “And Elred said he’d been out of sorts all day. Can’t you at least go and look for him?”

Father reached out and caught her by the hand, holding her still. “If he doesn’t come back in an hour or so, then we’ll go and look for him.”

“But it’s dark already! He could be anywhere!”

“There now.” He stroked her back gently. “You’ll frighten Balor. Come. Sit a while. Have something to eat. Try not to think of it. He’ll be back before long, you’ll see.”