Saturday, September 10, 2016

Eileann demands answers in Ch 14/sc 1c of RAGING SEA by @KimHeadlee #amwriting

Graphic overlay c2016 by Kim Headlee.
Family issues regarding my two adult children have consumed most of my time this past week. 

Thankfully it's nothing life-threatening, but the emotions and tough decisions still exact a heavy toll. For a writer who is also a mother, this means that work on new material must go on hiatus.

Things with my kids are calming down a bit now, so I'm hoping I can get back into my writing routine soon.

Sometimes I do wish I had mentors like Eileann's,who are featured again in today's excerpt from Raging Sea.

On the other hand, as Eileann will discover in next week's excerpt, sometimes it's better not to know what heartbreak the future will bring.

Previous excerpts of Raging Sea 
Chapters 1–6 in PERMAFREE Raging Sea: Reckonings
 Chapter 7: Sc 1 | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4 | Sc 5a | Sc 5b |
Chapter 8: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2 | Sc 3a | Sc 3b |
Chapter 9: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 1d | Sc 1e |
Chapter 10: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2a | Sc 2b | Sc 3a | Sc 3b | Sc 3c |
Chapter 11: Sc 1aSc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 2 | Sc 3a | Sc 3b |
Chapter 12: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4a | Sc 4b | Sc 5a | Sc 5b |
Chapter 13: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2a | Sc 2b | Sc 2c | Sc 2d | Sc 2e | Sc 2f |
Chapter 14: Sc 1a | Sc 1b |

Raging Sea Chapter 14, Scene 1c
©2016 by Kim Headlee
All rights reserved.

Sgeir covered the dough with a cloth and left it to rest, snatched her cane, and tottered over to Eileann. “Time aplenty for that, my lady.” She laid a hand on Eileann’s belly and glanced at the other women. “The àrd-banoigin indeed be with child.” That the crone had divined the purpose of Eileann’s visit came as no surprise, but she felt her elation slip as she beheld Sgeir’s stern but sad countenance. “Lady Eileann, we must talk.”

Her bony fingers gripped Eileann’s elbow to steer her to the nearest willow chair. Eileann sat. Sgeir pointed a look at Fioruisge and thence to the kettle steaming from the hearth pole. The young woman retrieved cups from a shelf and poured a round for everyone of the aromatic, pale green brew.

In serving Eileann, Fioruisge caught her foot against a stool and stumbled. Boiling tisane slopped onto Eileann’s arm. With a yelp, she shot to her feet, sucking the burn. Mortified, Fioruisge stammered an apology. Sian rushed over with a salve pot and pried Eileann’s arm from her mouth.

Her clan-mark, the tattoo of the Tarsuinn Falcon signifying her status as àrd-banoigin, had turned a livid shade of red.

Sian slathered on the salve and gently rubbed it in. The pain abated a bit, but the redness worsened.

The three wisewomen exchanged looks that were not encouraging.

“What does this mean?” Eileann tried not to sound as panicked as she felt but wasn’t sure how well she succeeded. “Please—I know you view the least broken twig as significant. Tell me, please!” A painful twinge flared in her belly but quickly receded.


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