Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

It was before dawn when the staff woke him. As he opened his eyes he saw Miri staring back at him. He was fully awake in moments and rushed to her side.

“Who are you?” she asked in a weak voice.

Linvin poured her a cup of water and helped her sip. “I am Linvin. Remember I promised to free you? I am not one to break my word.”

“We are not in the prison?” Miri asked. She looked around and saw the barn. “The last thing I remember was Hugon punching me in the side.” She looked down and saw her bandages. “I see that was not a nightmare.”

“Oh that was a nightmare alright,” Linvin said as he gave her more water. “It was just a nightmare that had come to life. I killed Hugon and stole you away from the prison. We have sheltered overnight at in this barn and will be continuing our flight soon. How do you feel?”

Miri rested her head on the straw as her eyes grew wide and showed confusion. “I feel…disoriented. My side hurts. My back is on fire. Everything I see is blurry.”

“Can you hold onto a saddle if I get you upon it?” Linvin asked.

Miri clenched her hands into fists and then released them. “I…I think so.

Linvin gave her some more water and said, “I will be right back. It is time to wake my kin.” Linvin eagerly strode over to the corner where the others were sleeping.

They were huddled together in an effort to stay warm. With staff in hand, he decided to use his newfound skill. A balmy mist surrounded the sleeping elves and gently woke them.

Rander rubbed his eyes and asked, “Why are you waking us up now. It is not even light yet.”

“We must move out now,” Linvin answered. “Any farmer with livestock and crops still in the fields this far into the fall will be up at the break of day. We must not be discovered here. Furthermore, anyone running that store would find items missing when they open. In a farm community that store would open when the farmers awake. With the ground muddied by the rain there is a chance we could be tracked here. It is better to think a local thief had sought refuge here than us. Saddle your horses and leave nothing behind that links to us. When you are done I will introduce you to Miri.”

“She is awake.” Bander cried.

Linvin put his fingers to his lips and reminded him to stay quiet. “She is in pain and is confused. So do not overwhelm her right now. She says she can ride. Bander, I will assign you to aid her. Ride by her side and hold her reins if need be. See to it she does not fall from the saddle. Everyone else make sure we have all the apples we can carry and full water skins.”

“What is the plan?” Rander inquired.

“We will flee to the south,” Linvin responded. “We would be expected to head back to the east as we came but that is too obvious. It will undoubtedly be re-enforced by the time we reached the river mouth. To the west we already know the number of troops concentrated along the Silver River. A stealthy escape would prove most difficult in that direction. We will go to the Lake and find a boat. Then we will sail to the south shore and continue our journey home.” 185

“Do you think they are pursuing us?” Rander wondered.

“Most assuredly,” Linvin answered. “We damaged Mandrean’s home and his pride. He will bring all he has to bare in order to prevent our escape. Though you scattered their horses at the message depot, me must assume that the entire Empire has been put on alert and that prices will surely be placed on our heads. That means no contact with anyone. We must disappear. Anyone seeing us will bring the weight of the army down upon us. That will be enough questions for now. Be ready to leave by the time I return with Miri.” He turned and went to the injured woman’s side

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

“Look what I found,” called the lumberjack with the lantern.

“What’s their story?” called one of the bearded men from a table.

“Been chased by Trogos, they have,” the first man explained. “Darn near got eaten.”

The men grumbled at the naming of the wolves. They were clearly no greater fans of the monsters than Linvin’s party.

“May we shelter here from the storm?” Linvin asked most earnestly.

“Do ya tell good stories?” called an indiscriminate voice from the group.

“We have all kinds of stories,” Anvar interjected.

“Can ya hold your liquor?” called another voice. In unison, the men reaffirmed the question by yelling “Ya?”

Bander stepped forward in an unexpected move and cheerfully pronounced, “Put the drink in front of us and see!”

The men cheered at the acceptance of the challenge. One handed his mug to Bander, who drank the contents in one drink. It was harsh liquor that did not agree with his empty stomach. Still, Bander kept it down as promised. He slammed the mug down on the table. The men jumped up in celebration and patted him on the back.

“Get some blankets and drinks for our new friends,” called the man with the lantern.

The lumberjacks treated them like younger siblings coming in from the cold. They peeled the wet clothes off their shivering bodies and hung them on branches near the fire to dry. There was no room for modesty among the woodsmen, who knew all too well, the illnesses that could set in from exposure. They wrapped the elves tightly and placed them at a table of prominence near the fire. Each was handed a full mug of whiskey.

At first, the rye drink was bitter to the tongue and hard to take. Gradually, as the effects blended with the merry disposition of their hosts, the beverage became more palatable until it was consumed with ease and even enjoyed.

Obviously cut off from outside news, the men begged for stories. Linvin did not want their quest revealed and thought he should be the one to tell their story. He explained that they were headed for the Unclaimed Territory when the wolves began stalking them. As the story brought them into the moment, the men began to mutter curses about the beasts to one another.

“The King needs to do something about those mongrels!” cited one of the men.

“He don’t care about nothin’ that don’t make him no profit!” called another. The grumbling continued until Anvar chimed in with a question. “You seem to have a story of your own to tell. Please enlighten us?”

In the back of the lean-to, were dozens of barrels of whiskey. A lumberjack who was grander than any of the others was refilling his mug. He took a deep drink, allowing some of the liquor to run down his red beard. Then he strode, as best he could, to the table with the elves and sat by them. Sitting his mug on the table, he wiped his hand on his pants before offering it to the group.

“The name’s Iron Hand. At least, that’s what I’m called out here. We are the best loggers in all of Sartan. That’s why we got sent so far into nowhere to cut these trees. They’re worth good money if we can ever get the logs out of here.”

“What’s stopping you?” asked Rander.

“See,” Iron Hand continued. “We’ve been up here for a while. The plan was for us to chop the wood. Then a couple times a month, wagons would come up with supplies for us and haul away the logs. Problem is, those Trogos are messing with the plans. They killed two of my men already and chased off the wagons the last two times they came. So here we sit, with our wood rotting and no food except for a few pots of beans.”

“You seem well stocked with drink,” noted Anvar.

Iron Hand looked back at the kegs. “Oh those,” he said. “Yeah, we provide all the wood for that distillery to make their barrels. It’s hard wood to come by and fetches a good price. They wanted to pay us for it but we decided to take our money in trade. Right boys!” The men raised their mugs and cheered. “So we have lots of wood. Lots of drink and we are stuck out here waiting to be the Trogos' dinner. The men will hardly leave the camp anymore.”

“Can you hunt them and rid yourselves of the problem?” Linvin asked.

Iron Hand took another generous drink and answered, “With what? It’s pretty hard to hunt with axes.”

The thought inspired Linvin. He turned to his relatives and whispered. For several moments the woodmen watched as the elves talked amongst themselves. At last, Linvin regarded Iron Hand again. “Perhaps we can help one another.”

“How’s that?” asked Iron Hand as he sat back.

“Let us rest here and share what food you have,” Linvin offered. “Once the rain stops, we will hunt some game with our bows. We will give some of it to you and your men and we will take some with us for the road.”

“What about the Trogos?” asked their host?

“If we see any, we will only be too glad to kill them,” affirmed Linvin.

Iron Hand stroked his beard for a moment. “Well,” he concluded, “we can’t be any worse off than we are now. You have a deal Mr. Linvin.” The two parties shook hands. “But tonight,” continued Iron Hand, “we drink!” The men cheered the arrangement and gathered around the fire with their drinks. They indoctrinated the newcomers to their group with a slew of drunken songs.

Funniest Thanksgiving

Another Thanksgiving is almost here and I am writing this blog as I wait for a layer of my 7 layer Jello (it’s actually 14) to set.  I looked back and saw my blog from last year in which I described finding out about my mother’s passing on Thanksgiving Day.  She was a marvelous woman who would not want me to dwell on the subject so this year I am going in the opposite direction.  I would like to share, with the help of www.Youtube.com , the greatest Thanksgiving moment in television history not involving a football.  There was a comedy show in the late 1970s and early 1980s called “WKRP in Cincinnati” about a radio station with a host of bizarre characters.  Every week something crazy seemed to happen but their most popular and controversial episode ever came on the clip I am about to reference.  You may have to paste it into your browser.  It is worth 5 minutes of your day to watch this.  I view it every year and still laugh every time.  Happy Thanksgiving. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lf3mgmEdfwg

Editor Assigned

The work has started.  I have an editor assigned by my publisher to “Quest for the Red Sapphire” to spruce it up for its second edition.  I’m not sure if he’ll want to shorten it or not.  As I mentioned once in a blog, these works are like my babies and you wouldn’t want someone snipping part of your baby away.  I have to set my emotions aside and remember that this is a business.  I happen to be on the creative (fun) side of the business.  This editor is supposed to know what will make the book more appealing (such as a shorter length) to the public as a whole.  I must trust in his judgment and be thick-skinned…to a point.  If I feel deep in my heart that something crucial to the storyline is about to end up in the delete file, shouldn’t I say something?  Then again, am I going to feel that way about every cut?  This is the reason why people don’t edit their own work.  Obviously they like the way it is.  I don’t want to sound conceited but I believe in my heart that I am a good writer.  Therefore, if I believe in my publisher (which I do), then I must believe that I now have a good editor.  Sacrifices will have to be made but the end product will be improved, I am assured.  If, however, you have been on the fence about buying a copy of “Quest for the Red Sapphire” buy it now before any of it is lost…that is…changed.

Sunday Excerpt "Crucible"

Linvin springs into action

 

Linvin looked down at the pathetic form on the ground before him. His first impulse was to kill him right then but found the execution of such a defenseless adversary dishonorable. He did need to act quickly, as his human shield was gone. “Coward,” he branded Mandrean and kicked him in the jaw with great force. Before the guards could react, Linvin ran through the doors and yelled to Anvar, “Close them now.” Anvar stretched forth his hands and the doors glowed with orange magic. In an instant they slammed closed. “Wedge the spears between the door-handles,” Linvin ordered.

After doing so they huddled for a moment to catch their breath. “That won’t hold Necromancer for long,” Anvar commented. “I hope you have a plan.”

Before Linvin could say a word, one of the Imperial Guards on the main floor spotted them and screamed, “The prisoners have escaped. To arms.” He blew a horn by his side.

“How about that plan?” Rander asked impatiently. “Is there one?”

Linvin surveyed the grand area and answered, “No time to explain. Just do as I do.” He led his uncle and cousins along the hall toward the tapestry. Soon they took shelter behind its massive width.

Clanking of armor was heard in great numbers coming from the far hallway. On the ground floor the guards from the outside stairs entered the room and were joined by a host of others. They ran with haste toward the great staircase. Moments later the great double doors to the throne-room blasted open from the Colorful Magic of Necromancer. Though Linvin’s party was safely distant, the situation became that much direr.

“This is your plan?” asked Rander. “Hide behind a rug? They already know we are here and are coming. Can’t you do anything else with that gem at all? Where’s all the great power we heard about? We are trapped in this hallway. You have no way out. We are all doomed.”

Linvin paid little attention to the complaints. He concentrated instead on the progress of the guards coming up the stairs, the ones emerging from the far hallway and the rapidly growing group from the throne-room. His gaze shifted around the three approaching enemies as he gauged their rate of closure. Without breaking his concentration Linvin spoke firmly to his uncle. “When this is over and we are free, reminded me to beat the life out of Rander.” Anvar simply nodded in an effort not to affect Linvin’s thought process.

The guards from below reached the landing on the second level and were ascending the two side stairways. Guards took up positions at the two ends of the hall and were slowly advancing from equal distances.

Anvar finally spoke. “I can take out a few but I cannot channel enough magic for this fight.”

Saturday Excerpt "Quest"

About the staff…

 

“We are not lost,” Linvin corrected.

“You’re right,” Rander agreed. “In order to be lost you must know where you are going. We are aimless.”

“You are wrong again,” Linvin corrected. “I know that we must head north and north means we go through that forest.”

“Just how do you know this?’ Rander said tauntingly.

“I just know,” Linvin answered.

“That’s not going to be good enough anymore!” Rander spouted. “Do you just wake up in the morning and say, I think we’ll ride north and look along the ground until a magic gem shows up? There is no plan. You don’t know what you’re doing and now you want us to follow you in there? You must think we are as big of fools as you. Well I have had enough. Come on Bander, we are going home.”

Rander gestured to his brother who reluctantly followed him back down the path. Linvin bit his lip hard as he watched them. After what felt like a lifetime he called out to them. “Wait! I know where we are going and how to find the Red Sapphire.”

The twins stopped and turned to face him. “We are listening,” Rander chided.

Linvin exhaled a deep breath before speaking. “The staff tells me where to go.”

At first, there was only the sound of the rain falling. Then the air filled with laughter from Rander and then Bander, after he received his cue.

“I mean it!” Linvin yelled. “When I hold the staff, it points us in the right direction. It is because of this that I know that this is the way to go.”

Rander rode up to his leader and sarcastically stated, “I must see this.”

Linvin was angered but showed restraint. He pulled the staff from his saddle and his arm moved once again without any effort by its owner. The staff was pointing straight down the path into the forest.

“Am I to be impressed by this action?” Rander asked. “You could have at least made it look more dramatic. No, I suppose you aren’t that good an actor. What you did proves nothing. I could do the same thing with that stick in my hands. It wouldn’t mean any more than it does from you.”

The comment gave Anvar inspiration. “You’re right nephew. That does not prove a thing. Why don’t you try holding the staff? Show us some real drama. Linvin, give your cousin the staff.”

Linvin looked betrayed at first. Then he quickly decided that Anvar must know what he was doing. Reluctantly, Linvin handed the staff to Rander.

Rander casually took the rod. Instantly he felt a jolt run through his body with such force that it knocked him from his horse. A deep, echoing voice entered his head and cried, “Violator! Return what you have taken! I am the Path of the Red Sapphire. I am only to be used by Linvin Grithinshield. Release me!” Rander was terrified. Though the sound was deafening to him, he was somehow aware that no one else could hear it.

“Did you slip good nephew?” laughed the knowing Anvar.

Rander wished to keep the pretense of calmness when his face said otherwise. “I am well uncle.”

Meanwhile, the staff resounded, “Return me now or you will suffer!”

As usual, Bander was not sure what side to be on, so he encouraged his brother. “Go ahead point the staff like Linvin did.”

Anvar leaned on his saddle in a sign of relaxed enjoyment. “You may want to do something soon,” he said with a smile.

As the words hit Rander’s ears the staff began to turn hot in his hands. In moments, it felt like he was holding on to the wrong end of a branding iron, just out of the hearth. The voice in his head became deafening. “RELEASE ME NOW OR YOU WILL DIE!” Flames erupted from the staff and surged across his body. Rander screamed, as he smelled his flesh cooking. His nearly petrified body finally heeded the command and dropped the staff to the ground. He rolled violently on the wet grass to put the flames out, only to find that there was no fire. His clothes and body were unharmed.

“What’s wrong, Rander?” Bander asked as he rushed to his brother’s aid.

“Are all the flames out?” cried an exasperated Rander.

Bander looked around curiously. “What flames? We are in the middle of a rainstorm. How could there be flames?”

Rander looked at his uncle and cousin. Linvin was as confused as Bander while Anvar just smiled like a parent putting an uppity child in their place. “None of you saw the flames?” Rander asked.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Anvar grinned. “We saw no flames, perhaps you hit your head when you fell. That might explain your delusions.”

Rander stumbled to his feet. “Don’t act like it didn’t happen, Uncle, you knew! You knew what it would do. It could have killed me, if I didn’t let go.”

Anvar continued to bait him. “You mean that stick? You’re saying the same stick that didn’t mean anything a few moments ago, nearly killed you? You must be mistaken. We merely saw you fall to the ground and roll around like a pig in slop, but I will credit you for making it look dramatic.”

Rander walked to his horse as Anvar began to speak again. “Now do you believe the staff can lead us to the Red Sapphire and what Linvin has told you is true?”

The humbled young elf took to his saddle and meekly told Linvin, “I have been such a fool. I doubt your words no longer. Please forgive me, cousin.”

New Web Site

I have launched an additional Facebook page entirely devoted to my books.  It is called The Sapphire Chronicles and you can find it here:  https://www.facebook.com/thesapphirechronicles.  There will be updates about the books as well as sales.  I have some new information posted there today so check it out and “Like” it if you would.  Enjoy.

A Tacky Divorce

Yesterday a good friend of mine told me after 5 years of marriage, his wife was leaving him and divorcing him.  Not only was she doing that but she also told him about it in a letter!  On top of that, he stopped to buy something after work and she had cancelled their credit cards and bank card.  I’m no expert on the subject but that’s pretty cold.  I asked him what went wrong in their relationship.  Everything seemed fine on the surface.  They were both older with previously deceased spouses and she said she just decided she wanted to move closer to her grandchildren so she was leaving him.  No conversation.  No back and forth.  Just thanks for the 5 years.  There’s really not a lot you can say as a friend in a situation like that.  Sadly, I have seen most of my friends divorce over the years.  One friend said at my wedding twenty some years ago that my wife and I would never last.  He has been divorced twice.  When I first hear that someone is divorced I don’t know what to say.  Should I say “I’m sorry”?  Maybe they are glad to be out of the marriage.  Divorce is not always so bad compared to a volatile marriage.  If you are in a toxic relationship, it’s likely that you would be happy to get out.  Perhaps the other person is abusing you in some form and they are cruel.  A person has limits.  Do I say, “Congratulations”?  Somehow that doesn’t feel right either.  They might have been truly hurt by the disillusion of their marriage.  It would be like congratulating someone on making it to the Super Bowl and then losing.  More times than not, there seem to be hard feelings left over from a divorce.  I don’t think putting a grin on and patting them on the back is the way to go either.  As you can see, it is complicated.  I had wanted to throw a statistic in for good measure but the good people at Google threw me a curve ball.  One article said the statistic about half of all marriages ending in divorce was incorrect.  As Vince Lombardi once said, “There are lies, there are damn lies and there are statistics.”  The article says the statistic depends on how you measure it.  Then it measures it “As it Pertains to Real Life”.  After that we have divorce statistics in the Political Arena.  Finally it looked at Divorce Rates in Second Marriages”.  It all sounded like doubletalk to me.  Another article explained that divorce rates went hand in hand with the state of the economy; but not in the way you would think.  When the economy was poor, there were fewer divorces because people couldn’t afford to get divorced.  They needed one another for financial reasons.  When the economy improved the divorce rate went up right along with it.  It was time to unload that pesky spouse I guess.  Ironically, the birth rate mirrored the divorce rate.  I didn’t see that coming either but it makes sense when you think about it.  When money is tight, people have fewer babies.  When times are good, those little ones start showing up.  So what am I actually saying here?  Divorce is a messy, expensive and painful ordeal that so many people must endure.  I am neither here to condemn or condone their lives just as I would not want someone to judge me.  If you are reading this though, and you are going to divorce your significant other, have the good taste not to do it in a letter!

Excerpt, "Quest"

 

“These woods are beautiful,” agreed Rander, “but they can be a dangerous place.”

“I sense no danger,” Linvin noted.

“We are only a day’s ride from Varns,” Rander reminded his cousin. “Remember, there was no logging allowed in this end of the county before a couple of years ago. With no trade going into the territory, this area has been largely undisturbed. It is undeniably breathtaking, but there are natural predators out here with which to contend. It is good that we are traveling in numbers.”

Bander joined the conversation. “Land that was cleared by the ax men was sold to farmers real cheap. They done tried it for a spell, but then quit and done gone elsewhere. Seems they was losin’ all their animals to the beasts from the forest.”

“Why did they not enlist help to drive the animals away?” Linvin inquired.

“Tried,” said Bander. “Sent a lot of men out. Real few returned. Pretty soon, no one was gonna’ go lookin’ to get eaten.”

“So they all just moved and left their land behind?” Linvin said in disbelief.

“Them that weren’t eaten,” Bander replied.

“You see,” Rander said, rejoining the conversation, “we are simple folk up here. We are good with our bows, but when the trees get thick, they aren’t much use. The predators all nest there for that reason. We can only get a shot at them when they venture out to hunt.”

“Why not use a sword or spear?” Linvin asked.

“Oh that’s not the elf way,” Bander pointed out.

Linvin’s temper began to rise, “Is dying the elf way?”

Rander retorted, “Real elves stick to their traditional ways.”

“You are mistaken, good cousin,” Linvin corrected. “I believe what you are referring to are dead elves. Real elves adapt to their environment. In my part of the county, the farmers grow crops as much as livestock. Why can Varns not adapt to that? The soil appears good and the climate is sound.”

“When you went to the shopping area, did you see any plows or sickles or anything to run that sort of farm?” Rander asked. “We are isolated out here. Even if one wanted to adapt, we have no means.”

“That is a defeated excuse,” Linvin said indignantly. “Think about the economic boom this country is having. You have an increasingly abundant amount of land available at good prices. Your soil and climate are favorable and it is not exploited because you are afraid of some wolves and do not wish to change? How does this community not see what it is missing? If farmers want to grow crops here, that creates a market. They will need to buy and sell goods. Stores will jump at the opportunity to fill that need. Why wouldn’t they? There is profit to be had. If I could get in on something like that I would have a store built so fast that you would wonder from where it came. There would be jobs for anyone who wanted one. The town would grow overnight.”

Linvin paused a moment and thought. “Maybe the reason for the excuses, is that the people of Varns do not want it to grow. Perhaps they enjoy their isolation and subsistence living?”

Bander noted earlier that the conversation was surpassing his ability to comprehend, so he turned his attention to the sausages Anvar was cooking. He looked them over very closely to see which was the largest.

Inyrtview & Book Review

I have a new interview and review of “Quest for the Red Sapphire” at http://thebooksbuzz.blogspot.com/  They gave it 4.5 stars.  Enjoy

 

Black Friday Grows

I thought I was hearing things the other day when I went into a store and heard Christmas music but it would seem the event was quite real.  It isn’t even mid-November yet and stores are in full-on Christmas mode.  I have nothing against stores.   There is a rich heritage of retailers in my family dating back through my grandfather and his chain of luggage stores in Detroit.  Retailers are not bad.  This is the time of year when they can make up for all the shortcomings in sales they had during the rest of the calendar year.  What is troubling to me is the way the season has gotten out of hand.  It used to be Black Friday came and everyone camped out overnight or showed up at stores hours before they opened in order to get some deal they couldn’t live without.  Then the madness would start at 6 or 7 A.M. with a stampede going through the doors and fighting one another for the limited quantity of the item they desired.  The rest of the day was heavy shopping on good sales.  That kicked off the season.  It wasn’t fun for anyone but it was manageable.  Retailers could have a day off with their families on Thanksgiving like they should and customers were only crazy for a few hours.   Then a store (Best Buy I think) opened at 5 A.M.  Another opened at 4.  K-Mart upped the ante by opening regular hours on Thanksgiving Day itself.  That was sacrilege.  I hoped it would be a fruitless effort but I was to be disappointed again; just like all those K-Mart employees.  Most of the stores came close and started opening at midnight Friday.  Even that was not enough to satisfy the insatiable appetites of the American consumer so the heavyweights, Wal-Mart and Target started opening (or at least started their sales) late in the day on Thursday.  They have already posted their ads on line so you can plan ahead.  The Thanksgiving Holiday has been trampled like a welcome mat and ignored just as much.  Soon we won’t even make a turkey.  We’ll just make turkey sandwiches or subs that people can eat while in line.  Then the day will come in our future (hopefully after I’m long gone) when a child in that line will ask, “Why do we have to have turkey on our sandwiches, anyway?”  Back here in our own time the marketing machine has not stopped.  Every day I receive emails about flash sales good for 4 hours and other sales in Pre-Thanksgiving ads.  Every retailer is doing it.  We’re talking about everyone from Bath and Body Works to Victoria’s Secret.  Every day I get new ads.  I have to check my email every day, not because I look forward to it, but in order to keep the number of emails in my inbox manageable.  What began as a crazy day has become a crazy month and I can’t help but wonder how much it’s really helping those retailers.  When I see an email for something on sale now I can’t help but wonder, “Will it be cheaper Black Friday, or Cyber Monday?”  How many people don’t buy because they’re waiting?  Even so, it must be working or else they wouldn’t be saturating the internet with their ads.  What started as a crazy day has turned into a crazy month.  What a pity for the retail workers.   

Writers Served Their Country Too

It was the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month in 1918 that the two sides fighting The Great War agreed to initiate an armistice.  In man’s increasingly efficient ways of killing one another that was going to be The War to End All Wars.  Such a grim declaration turned out to be little more than wishful thinking.  Today is the day we set aside every year to remember not just that war but every serviceman or woman who sacrificed their physical health, their mental health, their life, or hopefully just their time in order to give people like me the opportunity to write what I want when I want.  What many do not know is that writers have gone to war as well.  Certainly there were the Ernie Pyle’s of the world imbedded with the troops as journalists.  What I am referring to today, however, are the writers we have grown up with who served.  The most obvious place to start is Ernest Hemingway.  He joined the Red Cross as an ambulance driver and was sent to the Italian front in 1918.  There he witnessed horrifying carnage of which he wrote about in his book Death in the Afternoon: "I remember that after we searched quite thoroughly for the complete dead we collected fragments".  He was later wounded by a mortar round but still managed to help several Italian soldiers to safety.  For his action he was awarded Italian Silver Medal for Bravery.  He spent 6 months in a hospital recovering.  J.R.R. Tolkien already had a university degree but joined the British Army as a lieutenant in the Lancashire Fusiliers in World War One.  He was in the Battle of the Somme.  After 5 months on the front he came down with trench fever and was discharged to England where he continued writing.  After the war he formed a writer’s group that included a man with whom he would become good friends.  That man he met was my favorite writer of all time; C.S. Lewis.  When the Great War began, Lewis left his studies at Oxford to enlist in the British Army.  He became an officer in the 3^rd Battalion of the Somerset Light Infantry.  Like his later friend Tolkien, Lewis was sent to the Somme.  He arrived on September 25, his 19^th birthday.  He was wounded in the Battle of Arras and was sent to England to recuperate.  After he had mended he was stationed there until the end of the war.  He left the army to return to his writing and academic pursuits in December of 1919.  These are only three of the many writers who have served in times of war.  At times writers are viewed as people who sit on the sideline and criticize.  Well these giants in my field all took to the field and were all wounded in the field.  If such good writers survived the wars, it makes you wonder how many great ones didn’t?    

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

Welcome to prison.

 

Before them was a corner tower with a black, forbidding exterior. As they came near, horrible cries and screams crept through vents and barred windows. It was as if the very rocks were warning them away.

Arrow slits were visible at all levels of the tower facing out from the walls and in toward the courtyard. Their placement on the interior was poorly chosen. It appeared to Linvin they were installed there in case of revolt or some other overrunning of the palace. If that were the case, they would be of little use. The narrow portals were placed at the edges of the semicircle where they would not easily be noticed. Such positioning preserved the powerful presence the builders desired from the tower.

It was clear to Linvin, however, the holes were afterthoughts insisted on at the end of construction. By placing them for aesthetics, the slits were woefully insufficient. There were no interlocking fields of fire for archers. Furthermore, blind spots where no arrows could reach were numerous. None was as glaring as that around the main double doors. The area had no protection.

Having seen such structures before, Linvin was unmoved by the impending doom. His family, however, shook with fear. He tried to calm them but even Anvar despaired.

The wagon stopped with the door to the cell very near to the gates of the tower. Goblin Soldiers drew their weapons and donned shields as they formed two lines from door to door. Between was a narrow path. As if ferocious beasts were behind the bars, the Captain unlocked the door and then stepped back as the cage swung open.

Slowly the elves crawled from one cell toward another. There was really no need for the precautions by the goblins. Linvin and his party were weakened and sick from hunger on the long journey. The goblins had clearly heard of their exploits and took no chances.

Stumbling forward, as if sleepwalking, they dragged their chains along the path and through the door of the tower. The goblins in line jeered and taunted them with warnings of punishment they would receive inside. Hanging their heads, the condemned elves shuffled through the doors.

Inside, the bare stonewalls were adorned only by a spiral staircase leading both up and down. Mounts above sections of stairs held lit torches. Goblin guards walked back and forth and up and down the stairs. Before them was a huge round room furnished with a lone desk and chair. Behind the desk sat what was perhaps the largest goblin Linvin had ever seen. He was taller than Linvin and easily weighed as much as the four prisoners combined. Scars peeked through gaps in his chain link armor. On his belt was a whip and beside him sat a spiked club. Even the approaching goblins escorting the prisoners were fearful as they drew near. The Captain, however, showed no such reverence.

“Sergeant Hugon...these are the Elves taken prisoner at the river crossing,” the Human Captain stated as he dropped a rolled scroll on the table. “They are not to be mistreated.”

Hugon angrily opened the document and struggled to read its contents. Then he began to laugh. Moving the parchment over to a lantern on the desk, he set the orders ablaze. “That’s what I think of your orders. I do as I please with my prisoners.”

The Captain drew his sword. Hugon stood quickly and took hold of his club. The other goblins in the tower drew their weapons and rallied behind the Sergeant. In spite of the insurmountable odds against him, the Captain held his position.

“I want you to acknowledge that you have taken custody of the prisoners,” the Captain said with his blade pointed directly at Hugon’s heart. “You will be accountable for any deviation of the orders from this point forth.”

The Goblin Master snorted and answered, “I have them now, Human. Now be about your business. I wouldn’t want you to get your pretty uniform dirty.”

The Captain looked at the jailor with disdain and sheathed his weapon. “Goblin scum,” he branded as he turned and left.

Saturday Ecerpt, "Quest"

Ah, destiny

 

“Please spare me your destiny talk again, Anvar. I do not believe in anything that predisposes your actions away from freewill. It was my choice to go on this quest, it was not predestined.”

“You think so, do you?” asked Anvar. “Think of the steps to get where we are now. Your father acquired the staff. He sent you to the perfect place to train as a general and leader of men; the very qualities needed to make best use of the Red Sapphire. Your father died, prompting your return at the perfect time to solidify your fortune so that you need not worry about finances in your absence. You would never have taken up the quest if your mother had not been killed, making your departure necessary. The assassin did not gain hold of the staff and key or kill me. That enabled you to take up the quest.”

“Do you still see no sense of purpose in all of that? All of those events happened for a reason. You were meant to take up the quest and find the Red Sapphire. The fact that so many events happened so close together, leads me to believe that someone else is close to finding it. That someone is not meant to have it, you are!”

“And what would happen,” Linvin asked, “if the wrong person found the gem first?”

Anvar shook his head. “It is hard to say, but the end could not be good. Do you remember your father’s bedtime stories?”

“I remember him telling them to me, but I do not recall the specifics.”

“Let me tell you the details,” Anvar told him. “The Red Sapphire has been around since before time began. Whenever evil gained supremacy in the world, the stone would find a new champion to wield its power. He would use its power to take up the fight for those who could not defend themselves.”

“Such magic, could that person dispense, that he could ravage lands, lay waste to armies and strike down those who would oppress. It was just as the staff told you, ‘One can save many; one can make all the difference.’”

“The last time the gem was seen, was at the end of the last dark age. As you know, there were no written records at the time, but the last story I heard told, was that the bearer was so powerful that he could even fly! In the final climactic battle, he used the magic at his command to drop a mountain on an opposing army, utterly destroying it.”

“A mountain?” Linvin said in disbelief. “That sounds quite ridiculous.”

“Well,” Anvar said, “if you consider that the stories were told for hundreds of years, from one fireside to another, there was undoubtedly some exaggeration. Consider, if only the smallest measure of the stories were true, the power you seek could affect the course of world events. However, it may be that the power you seek could be used to serve a darker purpose, with a different master. Should a person of a diabolical nature gain such power, it could prove to be the end of our world as we know it.”

“The staff and stone know who they want to use them. They know that to effectively use that power, the bearer would have to be brave, powerful, intelligent, pure of heart, and well-schooled in military and world affairs. Such a man would even need to be wise in the ways of commerce. Through such a man, the power of the Red Sapphire would be most utilized for the greater good. How many men can you think of that match all of those criteria? I can only think of you, my boy.”

“So I ask you, after all that I have said, do you still doubt that this destiny has been laid before you?”

Linvin rubbed his chin and paused, “But it was ultimately my choice to go on this quest.”

“Indeed it was,” agreed Anvar. “There will always be a choice. The doorway may be placed before you, but only you can step inside. It is what you do with this opportunity that falls into the realm of choice. You could have chosen to hide from your would be assailants, but you chose to embrace your destiny.”

“So you are saying that everything happens for a reason, but I am the one who must figure that reason out and choose to act on it?” Linvin asked.

Anvar sifted the summation through his mind and said, “That is correct. Destiny and choice mean nothing without one another. If an opportunity is there, but you choose not to take advantage, then where are you? Likewise, if you are prepared and willing to do something, but the opportunity never appears, then once again you are nowhere. Aren’t preparation and opportunity coming together the real meaning of luck?

So as a comment about your first statement, it was indeed luck that we have the staff.”

Linvin seemed satisfied with the answer and asked, “Tell me what stories you know of the Red Sapphire. Truth or fiction, I do love a good tale.” Anvar smiled and began to regale him with tales of magic and intrigue.

Peep Holes and Phone Calls

Well it’s a balmy 53 degree fall day in Nebraska and both trees in the state are starting to change color.  I freely admit that is an exaggeration but if you read my blog, you get my point.   Just a quick point that has nothing to do with anything.  None of the houses in our neighborhood have peep holes on the doors.  When we built ours there wasn’t one and we had to pay extra after closing to get one installed.  We live in a very friendly neighborhood and maybe it comes from all those years of living in Michigan, but you don’t open the door without looking first.  That just seems like common sense.  Some people have big glass windows next to the doors to look through.  That lets people see into your house or you have to put up blinds.  And if you look through there, the person on the other side can see you so you can’t pretend you aren’t home.  I would tell my kids, “If you don’t know who is on the other side of that door and your mother and I are not around, don’t open it.  Pretend you aren’t home and they’ll leave.”  You can’t do that if they see you.  It just seems strange.  Oh well.  People out here are more trusting.  I should like that.  I try very hard to not be political in my writings but I can say quite firmly that I will not miss all the political ads and phone calls.  I’m on the “Do Not Call Registry” and I still get political and telemarketing calls.  I can see why so many people have done away with their home phone completely.  They are a pain in the neck and only 1 in 30 calls is actually one I want to take.  I find myself screening every call.  Remember the days before caller ID when you had to wait for the machine to kick on to find out who was calling?  If you wanted to talk to that person you had to hurry to the phone and pick up.  The person on the other end of the line knew what you were doing.  Caller ID makes it so much simpler to screen.  Still, I will keep my home phone as I have relatives outside the country and the cost of calling them on my cell phone is prohibitive.  If I recall, it’s about .25 per minute.  Just out of college my best friend entered the Peace Corps. and was sent to Guatemala.  I was poor and just trying to make it as a newlywed.  There I was explaining to my wife that I was going to be getting and accepting a collect call from my best friend (another woman) that night and it was going to cost me $2.00 a minute.  For those of you who don’t remember the days before cell phones or deregulation of the phone company, long distance charges were ridiculous.  My wife was furious but said I could only spend $20.00.   So when my friend called, she had come out of the mountains down to Guatemala City to find a pay phone in the middle of the street with cars passing by and people verbally abusing her.  When I picked up the phone and accepted the charges I started by saying, “I can only talk to you for 10 minutes.”  Well that ticked her off for 5 of those minutes and then we were able to say a few words before the alarm on my watch went off.  (Yes, I had a digital watch.)  After I hung up I felt terrible.  My friend was mad at me.  My wife was mad at me.  And I had just spent $20.00 which was hard to come by in order to feel that way.  I think of that every time I consider losing my land line.  What would it cost if I called Canada?  Ouch.  I don’t want to be that guy with the stop-watch again.  I think it’s better to stick with my home phone and deal with the telemarketers.

More Scams Out There

I don’t think I would be far off base to say I am very cynical about the world.  It just always feels like there’s a catch to every good deal.  Today my instincts have been right twice but I am 1 out of 2 in the listening department.  A good friend sent me an email that simply said, “What’s sup?”  Then there was a link.  My internal alarm went off telling me something was fishy but I clicked the link anyway.  It took me to a pharmaceutical site.  Without even reading it, I closed the window and deleted the email.  That was a foolish thing to do in the first place.  I should always listen to that inner voice.  It is almost never wrong.  Hopefully the email didn’t infect my computer in some way or compromise my email contacts.  With any luck, it was just a way to get me to go to their site…but that little voice is telling me that is wishful thinking.  What possesses people to do these things?  Why cause so much grief for so many people?  From my last talk with my antivirus people it seems nearly impossible to catch these cyber-scoundrels.  I can’t understand why that is.  Surely they must leave some trail to follow.  As I was beating myself up for opening that link, I received an email from some banker in charge of a trust in West Africa worth 9.2 million dollars.  It apparently belonged to a family that was entirely blown up in a bombing.  Here’s the start, “This message might meet you in utmost surprise. However, it's just my urgent need for foreign partner that made me to contact you for this transaction. I got your contact from yahoo tourist search while I was searching for a foreign partner. I am assured of your capability and reliability to champion this business opportunity when I prayed about you.”  Yeah.  Ok.  Nothing out of the ordinary here.  I like the part where he says he prayed about it to give it increased validity because we all know bankers pick their business partners through prayer.  I pray every day but in this first paragraph I already know I’m not buying what he’s selling.  He wants to split the money 60/40 with me and to prove I’M ON THE LEVEL he wants me to forward my personal information to him.  You have got to be kidding me.  Do people actually fall for this?  I received a similar letter about a week ago from West Africa in which the person claimed to need a foreign partner to help transfer over 4 million dollars to the USA because it was no longer safe for their church group over there.  Wouldn’t they have some sort of parent church group to call upon rather than contact a complete stranger and promise him half your money to help with a situation they are completely unfamiliar with?  Apparently Ebola makes people want to give away money.  These are such obvious scams and they appear to be happening with greater frequency.  Like I said, I was a fool to click the one link but I certainly wasn’t going to willingly type personal information into the computer.  I’ve re-learned my lesson.  Always listen to that little voice inside you.    

Exceprt "Quest"

Linvin takes the staff
Linvin was scared. All the gaps in his life had been filled so suddenly. It was only natural that he did not want to accept the answers. Anvar looked down on him with a piercing stare. Finally, Linvin capitulated, “I will go on this quest,” he sighed, as he took to his feet. “If my parents wanted me to go that badly, well, I owe them at least that.” 
Anvar, once again, held out the staff. This time Linvin took it from him.
The moment he grasped it, Linvin could feel a force flowing through his body. His senses tingled and in a moment, things became clear to him. He could feel its presence washing over him like a wave. The staff was indeed a living entity. It felt like a best friend, which one had found again. He could finally understand that the staff was ‘meant’ for him.
A voice entered his head though no noise was heard. “At last we are together,” the voice said. “I am the Path of the Red Sapphire. Long have I waited for the chosen one, to come and wield me in his hand. Together, we will find the stone that will complete us both. With it, we will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. We will prove that one can save many. One can make all the difference and we will strike down the ever-growing tyranny and oppression in this world. You were chosen because you are true of heart and character. Together, we will make the difference no one else can make.”
Linvin felt warmth and satisfaction emanating from the staff. He had never experienced telepathy before and decided to try to send a message back. “How will I know where to look?” he asked. His answer was swift. “I will point you in the right direction.” Linvin’s arm involuntarily extended with the staff in hand and pointed to the north.
“What is it?” Anvar asked while nearly dropping his pipe.
Linvin listened to the staff for a moment and then answered his uncle. “That is the direction we must head, in order to find the Red Sapphire. The staff says it is a very long distance from here.”
“It spoke to you?” Anvar asked with excitement.
“Did you not hear its voice?” Linvin questioned back.
“I heard no sound,” said Anvar. He nodded thoughtfully and bit hard on his pipe. “Do you have any maps around here?” “Yes,” Linvin answered. He quickly went inside and came out with a rolled map.
They spread it out on the floor and examined the area to the north closely. The path set before them was not an easy one. It would indeed be a perilous journey.
Sartan was an ethnically diverse and prosperous kingdom. It lay in an excellent location for controlling vital trade routes. On her northern border, was a dense forest of trees known as the Thornhaven Forest. From there, things became more complicated.

New Book Review

Here is a new book review for "Quest for the Red Sapphire."  http://readbookwormread.blogspot.com/