Spryton Wyldes - The Pinecone Wedge
Finished my ninth novel - the first draft anyway.
Here is a not-well-edited bit from the beginningIt does my old heart good to see so many of you have turned out to hear my tale. So many, by Erin, that perhaps it is too good to be true? Are we playing a little joke on poor Zvano? “Let us go and pretend to listen to the old storyteller, and then when he thinks he has caught us in the magick of his words, we will laugh at him and call him a fool.” No? Is this not the case? Have you truly come to hear the tale of Dobie and his band of misfit heroes? Of the ill-fated 'Pinecone Wedge', formed for the salvation of Spryton Wyldes, ready to do deeds that would ring down throughout history, but betrayed instead, by one of their own number?
Of course you have. Very well then.
Know that this is not a story that has ever been told by the bordermen of Cloverville.
Ah, you laugh. I see that Zvano is not the only one to sneak into the human village to listen to their tales. I find it a wonder that they know anything of the sprytes at all. I find it more so amazing when they actually get one of our tales right, as if they had been sneaking into our festivals and eavesdropping on our storytellers. Could you imagine? Borderman, hundreds of acorns tall, crouching down behind the stone grass to listen to Zvano’s little stories? Don’t look now, we wouldn’t want them to know we’d noticed them, would we?
No, gentle sprytes, if the storytellers from Cloverville were indeed spying on us, they would know that pyxies and bronnies are two kinds of sprytes. Again you laugh, but the borderman think that a pyxie and a spryte are roughly the same animal – its true. I’ve heard them argue this point on many occasions. They’ve never even heard of the other kingdoms; they’re likely to hear ‘grennies’ and ‘ruddies’ and ‘grellings’ and think that we are saying ‘greenies’, ‘reddys’, and ‘graylings’, as if we liked being named by our skin color.