So apparently there’s a challenge making the rounds of wordpress. I don’t really know who all is participating, but I thought it’d be a good chance to write a little something and showcase a bit of my book. The rules of the “Look” Challenge are these: “Take your current manuscript and find the first instance of the word “look”. Then post the surrounding paragraphs as an excerpt of the book on your blog. Lastly, tag five more blogging authors who you think would be a good choice for the game.”
Without further ado, here’s my writing segment. If I’m honest, I don’t think it’s the best portion of my book, perhaps tedious, but rules are rules! Hope you enjoy.
THE SOVEREIGN: AN EXCERPT
The pilot removed his helmet. Through the rapidly receding frost on the other fighter’s canopy, Aldric saw the familiar features of his younger brother Arem. Arem’s round, youthful face watched him keenly, his blue eyes merely dark points from this distance. They regarded each other for a moment, Arem’s fighter hanging motionless above the turbulent clouds below. Arem tapped his finger to his ear and Aldric nodded, switching on his communications.
There was silence for a moment, then, “Brother-Prince,” Arem said, oddly formal. His voice sounded thin over the channel, but Aldric could read defeat there, even a little bitterness. “I lost consciousness.”
“It was stupid. It was a gamble, I almost didn’t make it either,” Aldric admitted, his neck muscles still aching from the strain.
“I read twenty-one Gs before I blacked out.”
Had it been that many? Aldric shook his head wonderingly. The suits and the gelseats were remarkably durable, and worked in tandem with the ship to absorb most of the gravity during atmospheric manoeuvres. The old Signet fighter could never have done it.
“Allria?” Arem ventured when Aldric didn’t respond. He said it jokingly, but Aldric knew he only need accept the challenge and a race for Errolor’s sister planet would begin in earnest.
“Not today. I’m to meet Roland at the Temple,” he said, pulling on his mesh gloves. They were still damp with his sweat, and he struggled with them, tugging them on a finger at a time. “I shouldn’t have left at all, really,” he said. “I don’t have the time, today of all days.” He could recognise the indifferent tone of victory in his own voice and regretted it immediately.
He looked out to Arem’s ship, knew the resentment in his brother’s gaze. Arem hadn’t ever been one to lose with dignity; a loss to Aldric was especially hard. Aldric was simply a better pilot, and they both knew it. These little games they played were tiresome, but he tried to take it in stride. He hated seeing that look on Arem’s face, and most days he would have avoided the contest altogether. He’d been alone when he left this morning, and it was only too late when he’d realised Arem was following. Something petty had stung him then, and he’d pushed it too far.
He waited, but Arem said nothing. “I don’t really know why I came up here at all,” he said flatly, almost speaking to himself. He felt irritated by Arem’s silence.
“Another time, then,” said Arem soberly.