Lavender has the ability to see life and death in all its forms. It is a gift that led to her exile alongside sister Marigold. The two journey through an alternate Arctic encountering various characters and creatures along the way. Because of her persecution, Lavender's story had to be told. Marigold begins this story as lead narrator, but quickly hands the pen to the various characters and creatures, who narrate their encounter of the sisters. Together it forms an epic for an alternate Canada, as told by a prince, and orphan, a fugitive bog man, Feathermen, and many others. The mythological story of Ancient Canada may be unlike anything you've read in 1,000 years.
Excerpt
From Chapter 9, The Commandant's Encounter
We
followed the footsteps, and in heavy green armor, which served no
camouflage of function in the open marsh towards which we ran. With the
weight of the armor and its momentum in stride, it wasn’t long before we
realized we were shifting direction just slightly, but frequently. And
as three men in the sand, we did not travel swiftly or at equal paces.
The changes in direction of the presumed objectives’ footsteps, and
therefore ours, did serve to our fatigue but also to my own fear. Were,
or are they running from us? And was there a purpose to these
shifts? I commanded more to Lyell than to Ellard, as Lyell had stridden
ahead and Ellard behind, “Men, follow the footsteps exactly! Do not
negotiate a direct path!” In this I considered, but did not have the
breath to explain in the moment, the possibility of becoming stuck in
sinking, unproven silt.
Before
long the landscaped flattened and broadened further, and the footing
dampened. We were in the pure marsh, and nearly to the sea. Focused
heavily on following Lyell, and ensuring we both followed the obvious
tracks, I nearly neglected to raise my neck to consider spotting our
objectives. Once I finally considered this, it was not two evils I
spotted on the horizon; in the distance, the deep distance, was a
tremendous object. At first I took it for a mountain, and quite out of
place resting on smooth, wet silt.
“The
girls, sir!” yelled Ellard from behind, noticing with keen eyesight two
objects in motion. Had they not been moving, they perhaps would have
remained hidden by the dark object on the horizon, even though they were
between the spectacle and us.
They
were several hundred paces yet ahead of us, and appeared to be
staggering with occasional slight changes in direction, explaining the
footsteps we followed. The adjustments I did not understand, but their
coarse trend was proceeding to the object, which was for them another
several hundred paces as well. My two men and I proceeded to lumber
through the marsh, and with us all breathing too heavily to speak, I
relied on a soldier’s sense to instruct them onward.
We
perhaps gained some ground on the girls, but it was clear they would
reach the object before we would, even Lyell. As I got closer it
appeared not to be made of rock or wood, and was certainly not a
fortress or a design of human architecture.
“It’s moving!” noticed Lyell, using as few words as possible, and on the exhale.
And
it was. It was rising, and beneath it, what appeared to be six pillars
or thick trees straightened into legs. And a mouth, an opening, an
enormous mouth… one which comprised the entire height and width of its
right side. It did not open evenly from the middle such as some
creatures, but rather its large jaw, even disproportionately large for
its size, creased from the top and opened toward the soil. With jaw
fully extended, the mouth was dark and cavernous, at least from what I
was able to see in my one opportunity still a hundred paces away. I did
not see its mouth open but that once. The objectives were present for
that opening, and on the jaw’s threshold. For our first time in view of
them, they were no longer running… still out of our reach, but within
swallowing distance of the creature. The creature did not lunge for
them, rather awaited their decision. They stared at it while we gained
strides of ground on them. They looked back at us, perhaps fifty paces
now at Lyell, our closest man, and they attempted to run left. They
stopped quickly, tried another direction, stopped, and ran towards the
creature’s open jaw. They stopped in front of the jaw, but only briefly,
with Lyell now twenty paces behind. I watched as they then stepped
inside the beast carefully.
It
collapsed its jaw shut consuming the objectives but showed no further
sign of chew, grind, or swallow. The objectives had disappeared inside
the creature, and in the moment I did not have the time to decide if
that determined our assignment a success or failure. It relieved its six
legs of its massive weight as it rested again on its belly. When it did
we all instantly broke stride, breathing heavily, leaning over in the
marsh with our hands on our knees as if new soldiers in initial
training, just finishing our first terrain run in full equipment.
The
creature did not move or take notice of us. Only twenty paces away we
recollected together. Its size astonished as it reminded us that we were
tempting fate simply being so close to something that had just consumed
two others of our species.
“We were to retrieve the eyes of the gifted evil,” I informed.
“They’re dead,” said Ellard. “We all saw, with our common eyes.”
“Yes but the creature isn’t moving, sir,” said Lyell. “Perhaps we can still retrieve her head.”
“Wait
a moment,” I instructed, staring at the inhaling and exhaling creature
from such an incredibly close distance, our existence still unknown to
it in spite of our voices. “Do not move quite yet.” I allowed us three
to regain our breath in preparation for our next maneuver. Of course I
was also studying the creature, but did not observe much other than a
few legs and a closed jaw on an incredible reddish-black core, at least
that color in the dawn light. The original architect of the largest
wooden boat operated by the Canadian military may have been the only
other human to see this creature and survive. Contour lines, corrugated
they seemed, formed its hull. No step or other segment to its abdomen
that I could see. This led me to believe the creature swam submerged in
the water and not buoyant on the surface. Its skin was more smooth than
scaled, and appeared damp. I watched it labor as it breathed but it was
so featureless that I was unable to locate a nostril or spiracle. It was
not amorphous; it held its elliptical shape, but my eye was brought to
the region of detail: its legs. There were six and not four. If its jaw
was its front, which I am still uncertain, then its front was to our
right and we observed it broadside, facing its right flank. We therefore
saw its three right appendages as it rested on its hull. I studied the
detail of its closest leg to my position, its front right, although it
was partially tucked under its weight, claws facing forward. Perhaps
they were not terribly large in proportion to its size, but each
clawnail was easily longer than one of our swords. The peculiarity,
however, was that the same appendage on its trailing edge appeared
finlike. It was long and broad and if the creature was moving in the
opposite direction, through the water with the jaw trailing, these fins
could serve its motion as the claws either steered or simply dangled.
Once
I passed my first break in focus on the creature, although for less
than a second, I considered the mission and realized the objectives were
almost certainly dead. Perhaps through a technicality they were not
killed by the authority of my sword, but however they perished was a
great relief regardless. Yet as the creature ignored us, and as I saw no
ocular adaptation for what I began to believe was a blind, seaborne
creature that beached itself ashore to die, I felt encouraged to finish
our mission. “Men, advance carefully. Take its legs first,” I commanded.
“I’ll attempt to occupy its attention, if I can find a set of eyes.”
Lyell
began walking as Ellard began protesting, “Are they not dead, sir? Why
instead do we not watch for several moments to be confident they have
suffocated, then return to York?”
“Because
we are not to return to York without the gifted objective’s eyes. And
they are inside the creature. Now advance slowly.”
To
my surprise he did not protest further. I suppose he saw that the end
of our mission was in sight. Lyell advanced on the front right
appendage, Ellard on the middle right, and I positioned to face its huge
jaw. Still I saw no eye of the creature. With nervous sight on each
other, we set into our positions. Able to speak casually without
alarming the beast I instructed, “Strike your swords into its claw on my
command, understood?”
“Yes sir,” they responded.
I waited for them to draw their swords, raise them above their heads, and yelled, “NOW!”
They
drove their blades, piercing the flesh of its claws: an attack met by a
low-registered screech. The beast, now alarmed and aware of our
presence, became startled and vocal with a terrible bellow that not only
deafened us, but rattled our armor, and even vibrated our bones. Ellard
fell backward away from the creature as Lyell, more committed to his
strike, continued to drive and twist his sword into his assigned claw.
A
seventh appendage emerged from directly opposite its jaw, coming from
the distant end of its huge body, far from where I stood. What I could
not officially determine as its rear was where this whip-like,
tentacle-like, tail-like adaptation emerged. It had been entirely tucked
beneath the hull, buried in the silt, but now was pulled over top its
deck and was long enough to reach the Canadian soldier of its desire.
At
first appearing to be a tail, it lashed its own newly afflicted side.
It defended itself where it was attacked, and with incredible force
struck Lyell to the ground. Ellard, already apart from the creature by
enough separation to survive, stepped back further with his mortality
intact.
“Ellard,
pull Lyell away!” I yelled. He approached to comply, but the creature
continued to strike its own front right claw, with Lyell’s committed
sword buried in its flesh. It lashed several times as Ellard
disobediently but wisely backed away, and each time struck on or near
Lyell’s body within his armor.
The
appendage opened a lid, a lens I could say, and revealed the
long-awaited eye. It was one eye only, and it looked from above and
overtop its body. It stared briefly at Ellard and at me, then turned
towards the sea while its entire body pivoted. Its jaw now faced Ellard,
but the creature was retreating into the water. It escaped evenly,
without favoring a single foot. The swords had done nothing. By some
grace or mercy, or simple rule of nature, the creature spared Ellard and
me and slipped amphibiously into the depths of the sea, fins forward
and presumably already in use.
“Lyell,” said Ellard.
We approached where he lay, motionless within his armor. His heart no longer beat by our test. The force had killed him.
“Take
a moment, then we will strip his armor,” I said, knowing the metal was
crushed and ruined. For this reason, stripping it from our fallen friend
would be quite difficult. But with all threats below the sea, we could
grieve briefly before we began our next chore. “When that is done, toss
him over your back. We must carry him home.”
Author Bio & Links
On the serious side, Clinton has authored many technical courses to promote aviation safety. As a pilot with over 3,500 flight hours, his seminars have earned him the FAA's 'Representative of the Year' award in 2010 for the Greensboro, North Carolina district.
Clinton began writing his first novel, Ancient Canada, while working as both a corporate pilot and the chief pilot for an air cargo company. He drew on various sources, from ancient literature to conversations with his wife. The novel best classifies as fantasy fiction, specifically an epic drama, with a revolving narrator much like Canterbury Tales. But Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was Ancient Canada. Much like the characters' journey through their known world, Clinton wrote his tale of mythology over several years as his aviation career took him to various states and Canadian provinces.
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