Myradawn

By J.L. Davis

Princess Dawnstar receives a vision that prompts her to lease land from an untrustworthy neighbor for the purpose of mining iron to replenish her nation’s dwindling supply of steel, but politics prove to be as murky as the visions her ancestors showed her in the lake. Meanwhile, two hapless dreamers on the run discover that desperation makes for strange bedfellows and that the sea is not so easy to find as one might think.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.L. Davis
• Release date: Nov 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215315576

J.L. Davis

J.L. Davis currently resides in Maui Hawaii with his wife, Michelle. His hobbies include performing on stage, disc golf, and surfing.

Book preview

Myradawn

(a play in three acts)

by

J.L. Davis

Copyright 2017 © J.L. Davis. Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved.

Published by J.L. Davis.

Cover design by J.L. Davis

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Act I, Scene 1

[Enter Limpy.]

Lim. (To follow heavy footed steps of fate,

Or chase that fickle fancy of thy dreams;

How currently the question comes to me.

No uncut man is fit to fight so claim our queens, too hot their blood, but say I diff’rently. An adequat'ly armed man may fight; and I be more a massive armed man, and yet whe’r drunk, UnDrunk, as gentle as a neuter'd lamb in battle am. Oh tell me not that temper stirs to me some terrible atrocities. Nor temp'rancing that fire in the vein, nor draining from a sack what creature comfort does remain, could cause a cautious man as I in any carnal way to change. When drunk, as now, preferably; Probably, control is the unquestionable key). Perhaps a horizontal thought or two might help a man remember what he came into this room to do. (Control! Keep thy keys.) My key, is…

[Limpy closes eyes, snores.]

[Enter Headmistress.]

Head. Limpy! Fool man, such terrors will I visit you laws formed from the roughest of ancestors known as chisel’d into stone will I treat as first mutters of a mewling babe. I spy you knave, Limpy, you heathen malcontent contented only when you disobey our queen, with who’s voice to all servants as Headmistress of this palace I do speak. Asleep? What opportunity, to see you and be yet unseen. (My sharpest knife, but no, the dullest that I own, pockmark’d with craters riddled with rust, one digit slowly cut for ev’ry single speck of dust.)

What’s this? track’d in needles of tamarack,

For that a toe which never will grow back,

A finger for all filth, not hard to find,

Right there I swear, some small morsel of slime,

And what do I smell here, Beer? For that I’ll take an-

Limp. Ere now, Headmistress? Imagine my good luck, I came this way to warn thee when: Whack, Struck upon the head and out like some poor lantern knock’d, whose very fuel was consciousness of thought, which violently was slosh’d and lost, (and such a dream I had as none should have, a beast who craved limbs with loppers hover’d). Ow-ow-ow my appendage!

Head. (One man is but one man, a well-known enemy, add then a bottle in and only half a man he be; a lazy streak to boot and not a man at all be he.) The Queen does come did know you not you drunken dolt? The princess too unto this sacred chamber, its cleanliness did I entrust to you. What more have you to say? and make it true.

Limp. An ambush there was most unfairly laid for me, no doubt sent by our nations darkest enemies, before my lantern head extinguished, whose flick’ring flame did fall to foulest wind of an assailants blow from the behind, fought like the divell did I, a warrior, (some strange cross between divell and warrior), with cleanliest intent of sacred saints. So steadfast in the microcosmic melee for this chamber’s sanitation did I strive, had not a coward’s cudgel caus’d my cognitive demise, Shenobia herself would sure have thought ‘who is this man who did not miss a spot’, then sent me to the battles front with sword in hand, immaculate defender of my queen and of her land.

Head. A man?

Limp. A man, with meaty sword in mighty hand.

Head. Eunuchs alone may jo-in our majestic core, to fight beside our females in the field, or carry implements of war in Myradawn, all other males must war-like weapons yield. This law pass’d down by edict of our ancient queens before is part of who we are, as Myradawn has only queens it stands to reason not to change for likes of you.

Limp. Archaic law from, archaic-ist time, when man was hardly master of his mind. What savages did pass for men back then bear no resemblance to the stable genius of the modern person with a penis.

Head. Borris the Bloody stain’d this land until beheaded by our first queen’s hand. As spirits of the lake foretold, who speak to ladies of our royal line, his death did herald female rule of Myradawn until the end of time. Man’s nature is of boiling blooded rage, its fire forg’d from far deep down within, and sourced in that sack he constant carries round with him.

Limp. No bloody Borris stands before you now, but’a wizen’d warrior who would never be so bold to whip his bloodlust out.

Head. Another day another dream for thee, (convenient to the cause of keeping nothing clean.) If thou wouldst dare this newest theme, compassion moves my heart to help a fated warrior find his dream.

Limp. My dear Headmistress, help thou wilt?

Head. Most happily I promise thee. Now hold quite still, if thy desire is to fight thee like a gent, first let my knife thy longsword make less potent.

Limp. Wait! No-no-no! (To keep or not to keep should not the question be I humbly think. Once castrated one might then never reconnect that missing magic link.) Together we can better think of something else with luck, perhaps if I reach back and give a tuck?

Head. Whate’r you seek to be or not to be, Warrior, Dreamer, or some servant of the queen, I dream a dream to free the world from furth’rance of your feral breed.

Limp. Cru’l irony a dreamer’s dream might seal their fate most fatefully, pray time us each to dream a different dream. (Hide me!)

Head. Defy my orders have you all these years,

To hide from me requires more than walls,

Why settle I for fingers toes and ears?

When I instead might take your tiny-

[Timely flourish.]

[Exeunt.]

Act 1, Scene 2

[Enter Queen Shenobia, Princess Dawnstar, Concillia, Dineal, Candeez, various Members of the Court of Myradawn.]

She. Dawnstar, commander of our nations corps,

Sister, my blood, always art thou welcome

In our most royal court of Myradawn.

Dawn. Your Majesty, sister, Shenobia,

Queen of all free people of Myradawn,

I come with great report of our