Guest Post

Today “Take of the Bookworm” blog was kind enough to give me a guest post today on their site.  I get a chance to talk about my background and my writing.  Check it out here at http://talesofabookworm.weebly.com   As always, enjoy the read!

New Excerpt

“And who might you be that the great Gramlick would send

you in his stead?” Mandrean inquired.

“I am General Tathbar, my lord. I am his number two…his

second.”

“I am familiar with the concept of a number two, Tathbar. You

are insolent as I recall, but Gramlick must see something in you.

So go ahead, give me the report for the Western province.”

Tathbar swallowed hard and spoke at first with a high-pitched

voice. “Economically, there have been two years in a row of poor

harvests. With the Empire counting so heavily on this region for

food as well as taxes, there has been a deficit in food production

and money.

“The farmers are being hurt and desperately need help in

subsidies. What’s more, areas of marginal soil, which were farmed

every other year, have been pressed into service. The result is soil

depletion and low yields. Our analysts estimate that those lands

need to lie fallow for a minimum of two years with subsides paid

to the farmers to assure the land is left to regenerate.”

Though the statement was dry, Mandrean managed to sift

through it and find the implications. “So you’re suggesting that I

should pay more money to the farmers who are producing less so

that they don’t have to work as hard?”

Tathbar held up one palm and said, “I think you fail to see the

bigger picture here, Sire…”

Mandrean began to rage. “I fail nothing. You tell those lazy

peasants that they not only need their normal contribution this

season but must also pay what they were short from last year.

Their excuses will not be tolerated.”

“With all due respect, My Lord, no order can increase harvests.

They produce all they can, but they can only reap what the land

grows. The price of flour is rising and looks to go higher. Only

drastic action will avoid starvation and migration to the territory.”

Economics were, in large part, lost on Mandrean. He had no

skill or interest in the field. His rationalizations on the subject were

often crude and harsh. Even with that being the case, he was

prudent enough to seek council.

“What sort of action do you suggest?” the emperor inquired as

thoughts of peasant rebellions flashed through his mind.

Tathbar knew his answer would not be liked by his master and

stuttered as he gave it. “Well…we have found…a large grain

reserve in the region that could be dispersed to alleviate the

situation. Prices would stabilize and the relatively higher prices

would enable tax payments and field rotation by the farmers.”

Mandrean listened to what sounded like the perfect solution and

smiled until his skeptical side began to ponder. “And what is this

reserve you speak of?”

Tathbar paused and then responded quickly, “The stores the

Legions have amassed over the last few years for the invasion of

Romadon.”

“Out of the question,” Mandrean fired. “Our forces will need

those supplies for the prolonged offensive.”

“My lord, there is no way to invade any time soon. In the last

two years, our legions have been depleted by nearly two divisions.

We are in no condition to attack anyone. The grain disbursement

would only make use of resources being unused. In two years we

could be in a position to attack but not now.”

Mandrean was seething. “Two years? What kind of general do

you fashion yourself? And why have you allowed my armies to

erode? Gramlick would never allow this.”

“Sire, we have been hit hard by desertions. Morale is poor, and

it is due in large part to the terrible defeat in the Valley of Broken

Soldiers. We lost over a division there from my province alone.”

“Valley of Broken Soldiers? That area is called Trader’s Alley.”

“The men, Sire. They renamed it after our defeat at the hands of

Linvin Grithinshield.”

Mandrean jumped to his feet. His anger blocked the pain it

caused. “Guards.” Four guards surrounded the general and began

to whip him. The once crisp uniform was quickly torn apart and

soaked in blood. He covered his face, but there was no salvation

for the rest of his body.

Once the screams were loud enough and everyone had

witnessed the example, Mandrean waved off the tormenters. He sat

back into his throne and addressed the crowd.

“For those of you who may have forgotten, that name will not

be spoken in my presence by anyone.” Silence followed. “Return

this general to his quarters until he is prepared to apologize.” Two

guards dragged the general away.

Sunday Excerpt "Crucible"

As the room parted, Necromancer came into view. He moved but his robe showed no motion from his legs. As he grew near his eyes became a deeper red and nearly appeared ablaze as he approached the elves. He stopped directly before the guards in the front of the column.

“Captain,” he ordered. “You and your men may return to your duties.”

The captain looked puzzled. “I certainly would never disobey you, My Lord, but we were told these are the most dangerous prisoners we have ever held. With Lord Mandrean about to begin Court, I would think it would be wise to stay with them. After all, Lord Mandrean’s protection is the most important factor.”

“Your concern is noted,” Necromancer answered as anger swelled in his voice. “There are over a dozen Imperial Guards already stationed in this room. That is more than sufficient. Your men have other responsibilities they are neglecting. I suggest they return to them. As for our Dear Lord Mandrean, I am here. There is no greater protection to be had. You are dismissed. Pray I do not recall you’re questioning of my orders in the future. Such a recollection may displease me and be detrimental for you.”

The captain gave the fist salute and said firmly, “By your leave, My Lord.” He turned on his heal and led the guards from the chamber.

Necromancer smiled a fiendish grin as he approached Linvin. “I see you have been restored to health. That is good. I may not have use for you but I will be prepared all the same, Grithinshield.”

He walked over to the twins and looked at them with contempt. Then he glared at Linvin. “I can see why you loathe them. They are miserable excuses for elves. To be fair, elves never have impressed me as a group. These two are particularly under whelming. Had I been you, I would have eliminated them long ago.”

“They are my kin,” Linvin stated indignantly.

“A fact I am sure you have regretted on more than one occasion,” remarked Necromancer. “They may be of your blood but you would have done well to shed it long ago. Your trip would have been far easier. Then again, I may be giving you too much credit. Perhaps you enjoy having inferiors around. I personally despise it, but have no choice in the matter. I have no equal with whom to associate.” He moved on to Anvar. “You certainly draw a pathetic comparison to me. What is the world coming to when everyone is so scared of a circus freak like you? An Orange Magician, eh? You are better served as a sideshow trickster. At least that would earn the slightest respect. Instead you pass yourself off as a force to be handled with extreme caution. You could not harm me on your best day.

“There are many here who may fear your tricks. For that reason I will be clear. I will be removing all your restraints soon. After all, we do not want the ‘Emperor’s Prisoners’ to be uncomfortable, do we? Then you will all sit where I tell you and do nothing until called upon. If any of you make the slightest effort to escape, you will only leave this chamber when your ashes are swept aside.” He paced before the prisoners with his hands behind his back. “That means, no swordplay, fisticuffs or that sad thing Anvar Greenlith calls magic. Remember, you are nothing more than a means to an end for me. Even at that, you are a backup plan. Your incineration would at worst be an inconvenience to me. So do not bother convincing yourselves that you are indispensable.”

Necromancer lifted his eyebrows and the shackles on the party disappeared as though they were never there. Then he pointed to a bench. “Sit and do not move. You will know when I want you.” As the elves sat where they were told, Necromancer walked with great anticipation toward the throne. He turned and stood before the seat to the right of the seat of power and watched the people take their places.

 

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

Linvin casually flipped to the final balance line on the ledger and tried hard not to look impressed.  “Let me start by saying that I do not recall any bad times you had to endure with my family, but no matter.  When I was a young lad, your bank was rather small, was it not?”

Gredly reluctantly nodded.  “We were not as big as we are today, that is true.”

Linvin looked through some papers on the desk.  “Yes, I believe you were the fifth largest bank in Fraylic out of the six in town when my father began this business.  Times certainly have changed.”

Again Gredly nodded.  “We have done well over the years.”

“You are being modest,” Linvin chided.  “Your bank is the foremost lending house in the world.  I know for a fact that Valia obtains loans from you.  I imagine many other countries do as well.  You have become enormously wealthy by lending my family’s money.”

“Such is the nature of banking,” Gredly interjected.  He squirmed as though his seat had become slippery.

Linvin smiled in a wicked fashion.  “Look at you.  You are terrified that tomorrow morningI will come to your bank and wish to withdraw all of my assets, are you not?  The greatest bank in the world would collapse in one day.  That is why you are here right now.”

“Is that your intent?  Is that why you brought me over here?” fumed Gredly.

“Well, that depends,” Linvin said while putting his pipe down.

“On what?” asked Gredly cautiously.

Linvin turned in one quick motion and swept every paper from his desk onto Gredly.  “That depends on how you explain this mountain of unpaid invoices from vendors.  My store and warehouse are half empty and it is because venders were not being paid in a timely fashion, if at all!  We have lost precious suppliers that we may not get back so that you could hold onto the money due them.  Your shortsighted greed would have my company bankrupt within three years.  Where would your precious deposits be then?”

Gredly had a look of astonishment as he heard the knowledge Linvin possessed.  “Mr. Grithinshield, it was your father who paid your venders and it is not our responsibility if those who managed your finances in his stead did so irresponsibly.”

“Do not take me for a fool, Mr. Gredly.  Such large payments to venders go from bank to bank.  You sit covered in papers saying the proper authorization signature is not present to pay this invoice.  Please resubmit.  You sat on money due to my company’s vendors, my company’s friends!  Then you have the gall to blame our bookkeeping?  Do you take me for a fool?”

Gredly bent both knees and folded his hands before him as he prepared to beg.  “Please, Lord Grithinshield, please forgive our foolishness.  We have wronged your family and your company.  Do not let this minor transgression end what has been a lucrative coupling of your business and ours.”

2 Blog Appearances

I have the honor of being on 2 blogs today.  The first actually posted yesterday but my blog was already up.  It is an interview on Michael Scifan’s site.  I always try to make my interviews a little different than the last so it’s not so repetitive.  Its link is http://www.michaelscifan.us/interview-with-rival-gates/ The second one is a permanent posting on Victoria H. Loren’s site of featured authors.  The link is http://bit.ly/1OrT0nA  You have to scroll down a bit to find me but I am there with all of my books.  I wish to thank both these author’s for giving me valuable space on their blogs.  Enjoy the reads!

New Excerpt

Anvar was in tremendous pain but still had his wits about him.

“Officer Acreas, you can put the spear away now. I can walk very

little, and I have no use of my arms or my magic. It would be safe

to say that I am not a flight risk at this time.”

“The name is Commander Acreas, if you please,” Acreas

demanded. “I suppose the spear is unnecessary at the moment. It

was more for show and intimidation. I sense no fear from you.”

“Why should I fear at this time?” Anvar asked bluntly. “Even

with my advanced healing abilities, my wounds would have taken

my life if I had not been treated. Not only did I receive care but I

was fed as well. One does not do those things for someone they

plan to run through with a spear. Lord Mandrean has other uses for

me that require me being alive. So let us dispense with the pointy

objects. I will come without trouble.”

Acreas pulled the spear away. “My research said you were the

logical one in the group. Your logic makes sense to me.”

As they emerged from the jail to enter the courtyard of the

palace, Anvar addressed his escort again. “Research? I am

surprised the Commander of the imperial guard would research

someone like me.”

“Knowing your enemy is the best way to defeat him. I have

studied you and your family for that purpose. I have, however,

paid particular attention to your nephew Linvin Grithinshield. His

body of work is immense and required a good deal of analysis. I

have memorized his background, commerce and battlefield tactics.

If I could set my hatred of him aside for a moment, I might

actually respect his abilities. Every battle he has fought has been

against superior forces and every time, he has won. Whether he

was in Valia, the Territory or the Valley of Broken Soldiers where

he last fought, Grithinshield has used everything from the cover of

night to the morning mist and even the geography to his advantage.

He is a worthy opponent.”

“I had no idea Lord Mandrean’s commander furnished him with

such detailed information,” Anvar noted. “Perhaps it will help him

in the oncoming fight with Linvin.”

“Help him?” repeated Acreas. “Why in Lavacia would I ever

want to help my hopeless father?”

Anvar stopped and looked at him in complete surprise. “You

are Lord Mandrean’s son and heir?”

“You are partially right,” Acreas said as he shoved Anvar to

continue his march. “I am his son though my legitimacy is in

question, at least in his eyes.”

Anvar became confused. “If Mandrean is your father, than

why would you not want to help him against his biggest rival? He

must think something of your abilities to have advanced you to

such a prestigious position.”

“We loath one another,” Acreas confessed. “For two years

he has sent me into every cauldron of death so that I may meet my

own but instead I returned again and again victorious. I earned this

rank just like one day I will earn the chance to be emperor. Then

Linvin will be my adversary. When that day comes, I will know

everything about Grithinshield. I will finally be able to repay him

for this.” Acreas pointed to a long scar above his eye.

“Linvin did that to you?” Anvar asked.

“He did indeed during your flight from Marinhalk. Surely he

mentioned it to you.”

Anvar shook his head. “I do not recall any story about an

encounter with you. Knowing Linvin as I do, if that was your only

damage then it must not have been much of a fight.”

Acreas’ voice became bitter. “He dispatched me without even

making an effort. Only his expedience to escape allowed me to

survive. Much has changed since then. I have matured. When my

day comes, I will know how to handle your nephew.”

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

As they walked, Bander was the first to question Linvin. “So what happened after we separated?”

Linvin held the staff like a walking stick as he looked at the ground and tried to remain humble. “I overpowered the guards in the tower and descended into the torture room where Hugon was about to end Miri’s suffering. I surprised him and turned his own whip against him. I kept circling around and delivering blow upon blow. At one point I even threw salt in his wounds. Finally, I ran him through with a blazing poker from a fire-pit nearby.”

“Where was Miri during all of this?” Anvar inquired.

“She was chained to a torture rack where she was simultaneously being stretched at her limbs and stabbed by spikes rising from the table.”

Anvar shook his head. “So you went back to save her, knowing every guard in the palace was after you. Then you intentionally took your time punishing Hugon for his mistreatment of you while the woman you went to save was suffering and near death. You could have killed Hugon in less time than it took for me to describe that situation. 166

 

Because you wanted revenge, she suffered longer and I would wager you probably had more guards to fight than you would have had if you had handled your business and left. Am I correct?”

Linvin sighed. He thought for a moment about justifying his choice of actions but quickly abandoned the notion. It would be better to accept the critique and move on with the story. “Yes,” he acknowledged. “I could have killed Hugon more quickly. I was thinking more about making him suffer than I was about how Miri was suffering. The extra time did allow the guards to track me down. It was a mistake and I admit to having erred.

“After I freed Miri, some brazen young man stopped me on the stairs and attempted to prevent my escape. I threw him aside and climbed to the top floor of the tower. There I found the staff and my Father’s possessions. With an endless stream of guards climbing behind me, the only way to go was up. I ascended to the battlements of the tower and was cornered there. Then the staff and Red Sapphire began to draw toward one another. I inserted the gem in the staff and a storm of magic appeared around. During the mayhem, the Red Sapphire told me I could fly. So that is exactly what I did. You know the story from there.”

“So you talk to the Red Sapphire?” Bander asked with excitement.

“We do not exactly talk,” Linvin responded. “It is more of a telepathic connection. The gem is a living being in some ways similar to Falconfeather.”

“You took unnecessary risks for the sake vengeance,” Anvar reminded. “Though you came out victorious, you would be wise to note your error in judgment and not repeat it in the future.” Anvar paused and watched the sunken expression from his nephew. Then he added. “However, you have accomplished your goal and I cannot think of another person who could have done all of 167

 

that. You have reason for being proud this day. Just do not let it get the better of you.”

With his story told, Linvin longed to hear from the others. “So what did you three do after we separated?” Linvin asked.

“We followed your orders,” Anvar stated simply.

Bander, on the other hand, showed no restraint. “It was amazing.” he exclaimed. “The hole in the wall was right where you told us. So we snuck through it and were right by the stables of the Imperial Guard. Uncle Anvar did that fire thing with his hands and all the straw went up in smoke. Rander and I opened the gate for the horses and the fire sent them running everywhere. While the guards tried to stop the horses we snuck behind the barracks and Uncle Anvar torched that too. He was magnificent. The streets filled with people running everywhere. We ran amongst the crowd and headed for the outskirts of town. When no one was paying attention, Uncle Anvar would set another building on fire. Soon there were fires everywhere and we just ran.

“When we reached the messenger stables Rander and me, we killed two of the guards and the others were cut down by our uncle without trouble. Then we saddled five horses like you said and scattered the others from the stable. We rode for our lives. It was really something to see. You would have been so proud of us, Linvin.”

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

“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 instead.  Right, boys?”  The men raised their mugs and cheered.  “So we have lots of wood, lots of drink and we’re 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.

 

Guest Post

Today the good folks at “The Howling Turtle” were kind enough to give me a guest post.  I wrote a little piece you might find of interest.  You can check it out at http://howlingturtle-pdx.blogspot.com/ enjoy the read!

New Excerpt

The wait was short as a knock came from the door. A voice

followed from the other side. “Sire. It is Fendri. May I approach?”

“Enter,” Mandrean replied.

A rather plain looking fellow entered the room. He had a simple

quality, which bespoke of being even tempered. There was nothing

of note about him physically. Although he wore an outfit that

clearly placed him as a servant, his threads were laced with gold

and decorated tastefully with small jewels.

“I see you are taking to the wardrobe I ordered for you,”

Mandrean noted with an approving nod.

“The clothes are most appreciated, my lord. But they seem to be

a bit much for me. Do they not seem to be too ornate for your

House Master?”

“They do not,” Mandrean answered. “Your position in this

palace is demanding of respect. You will wear clothing in that

order.”

“Accept my gratitude once more, lord.”

Mandrean rolled over to the edge of his bed and drew his

power-rod from its resting place. From its far end protruded the

Blue Sapphire. It was the wicked equal of the Red Sapphire in

every way. Mandrean was the perfect master to wield the stone.

His twisted, ambitious personality meshed perfectly with the

mandate of the gem. That mandate was to prove that evil was

stronger than good and that a single person with great power could

subjugate all.

He spun the rod in his hands. As he stared at the gem, he asked,

“Are my territorial governors here for our meeting?”

“As you had commanded.”

“Are they waiting in my court?”

“As you commanded, Sire.”

“Excellent, Fendri. Tell them I will arrive shortly and then wait

for me by my throne.”

Fendri bowed and turned to leave.

“And one more thing,” Mandrean added, “on your way see the

master-at-arms and have four of the top soldiers from the imperial

guard assigned to guard my quarters, immediately.”

“Of course, my emperor. Shall I have the ones out there now

reassigned?”

Mandrean squeezed the rod. A blue aura surrounded him for a

moment and then passed.

“There are no guards to reassign,” Mandrean said as he pulled

his feet from the water. Fendri was confused but did not question

his master. He bowed again and opened the door to leave.

As soon as he left the room, he saw two small piles of ash on

either side of the door. Fendri looked at them curiously at first. It

seemed strange that he had not noticed them upon his entrance to

the room. In a moment, his expression turned to horror when he

realized what the mounds represented.

He cast a frightened look back into the room. Mandrean

gingerly stepped to the door and looked at the ash. “I do not take

kindly to being anyone’s amusement.”

Fendri swallowed hard and walked briskly away. Mandrean

only smiled and closed the door.

Guest Feature

A.B. Funkhauser has done a feature on me and my new book “Mandrean Revenge” today on her blog.  There is an interview and a lengthy excerpt from the book.  Have a look at it at http://abfunkhauser.com/2015/07/14/back-with-more-author-rival-gates-and-mandrean-revenge/ and enjoy the read!

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

“Linvin, step forward,” Mandrean ordered. Releasing his uncle’s hand, Linvin boldly walked into the middle of the map on the floor and harshly threw the nearby pawns out of the way. He stood with his hands on his hips and a furious expression on his face.

The emperor observed him for a moment. “Hmmm. Somehow I thought you would appear more impressive. No matter.”

Mandrean began reading aloud from the scroll. “An assassin was dispatched to Valia. When he arrived Linvin had already left. He did, however, learn a great deal about our distinguished guest. After studying with Sedemihcra for a number of years, Linvin joined the Valian Army. He served with distinction and advanced through the ranks at an unprecedented rate. The half-elf Sedemihcra called his Greatest Student Ever became Supreme Commander of the Combined Armies of Valia.

“For years we had sent armaments to the Swamp Goblins in the Southern Marshes in hopes of destabilizing Valia. Despite all our efforts including training their warlords, the man you see before you checked us at every turn with meager resources. At one point the goblins even managed to lay siege to the capital, but Grithinshield dealt them a crushing blow with a minimal force at his command. In all he won over a dozen major battles and earned the honorary title ‘Defender of Valia’. After winning three startling victories to completely crush the largest invasion attempt to date, Grithinshield abandoned his men and resigned his commission.”

Mandrean looked at Linvin in disgust. “You were at the peak of your power and you quit? It says here King Hardurian even offered to adopt you as a son and make you his heir. Even then you refused and asked to be discharged. For a man who is reported to be a genius on the battlefield, you certainly have no grasp of politics.”

Linvin remained silent in his rage, not seeking to indulge the inferior man addressing his character. The twins gazed at Linvin in awe. They’d never fully realized the scope of his accomplishments.

Mandrean continued. “By the way. It says here they just completed your statue when my man left Valia. It depicts you on horseback with a sword in one hand and pointing with the other as though you were giving orders. The statue is on a pedestal in the City Square. The whole thing sounds a little ostentatious for my taste but I suppose some people need their ego stroked more than others. Pity you will never see it.”

Turning his eyes to the scroll once again Mandrean read aloud. “So you left Valia and returned home just prior to my spy’s arrival. With you back in Fraylic there could be no doubt the staff and key were in Grithinshield Manor. Linvin established himself at the head of the Grithinshield commercial empire and entered Society. Even during a gala held at the estate, our agents could not search the grounds thoroughly. We needed someone inside.

“It was about that time Linvin moved out and opened a store in Missandor of Sartan’s Elvin County.

 

Eventually one of the assassins was hired on to the house staff at Grithinshield Manor where she began looking for the items. Once they were located, it was decided his mother must die so as not to alert anyone of their theft. Without wanting to attract attention, it was decided to slowly poison her so her death would look natural. In the confusion of her demise it would be possible to confiscate the items and bring them to me.

“When she finally passed on, however, the staff and key were gone. Her only visitor since the items were last seen was Anvar Greenlith. After ransacking his home the assassins followed the next logical link in the chain. They paid a visit to Missandor to find Linvin Grithinshield. When they arrived, his tree was unoccupied. Another search ensued and nothing was found. A local elf mentioned they’d left town heading south and so the team did so as well. After finding no other reference to their trek to the south they turned north to the next nearest relative, Caritha Greenlith and her pathetic sons Bander and Rander.

“They’d guessed right. Linvin and Anvar had indeed gone there. They recruited the Greenlith boys and set out for the Territory. My agents once again just missed their query. It was clear from local accounts and the information the team already knew the quartette was searching for the Red Sapphire. Necromancer told me one of the uses of the staff was to lead its owner to the gem. Since I had the prize in my possession it would only be a matter of time before the staff and key were brought to me. I recalled the assassins and alerted everyone between here and Sartan of a bounty on you…alive.”

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

Linvin pointed directly at the area labeled 'AVOID' and asked, “Are these the Demon Marshes to which you referred?”

Newminor looked and chuckled to himself.  “Avoid, how cute.  Well, I suppose that gets the point across, doesn’t it?  Those are indeed the Demon Marshes, and not even the bravest souls dare journey near.”

“What is it that scares you so?” Bander asked innocently.

Newminor smoothly spread his arms apart and corrected the elf.  “Hey! I am not scared of anything.”  He paused for a moment and looked at the map.  His eyes grew large as he stared at the region.  “I simply see no need to go looking for trouble, and entering that area invites trouble.”

Never one to pick up on subtleties, Bander continued his probe.  “Then what sort of trouble would one get into if they went there?”

Newminor looked at each member of Linvin’s company in disbelief.  “You know, when I said you folks were out here without a clue, I was just having fun at your expense, but you really know nothing about anything outside Sartan, do you?”  Before anyone could respond he continued, “Well, that speaks pretty poorly of your nation.  They think they are so powerful and mighty, yet their own people are ignorant of what lies beyond their borders.  How sad.  This probably isn’t even your map, is it?  Let me guess, you took it from the goblins and can’t interpret the symbols.  I can’t believe I even let such a pathetic bunch come to my aid.  In the future, I must be more choosey with my associates.”  He strode over to the fire and tasted the stew cooking.  Then he took a slice of jerkyand lay down on his blanket.

Linvin showed controlled irritation.  “My good Newminor, your flagrant insults are indeed distracting, but you have once again spoken volumes without answering the question placed before you.  So please relent with the sarcasmand answer my cousin’s question.  To this point, you have been amusing, but the time has come for plain talk.  Tell us about the Demon Marshes or pack your bags and leave.”

Newminor stopped chewing like his jaw had stopped working and swallowed the meat in his mouth nearly whole.  He was surprised and impressed at Linvin’s ability to control his temper and stay on task.

“Very well, Elf-Man,” Newminor said.  “Centuries ago, before the written word and the nations of our day, there were the Dark Ages.  There was no unity among men or elves or anyone, other than goblins.  The savage beasts prayed fervently to their demon gods, who aided them in the rape of the world.  For an untold number of years, their madness and destruction reigned supreme.

“Details of their undoing are unknown, as no records were kept.  Legend has it that a climactic battle took place in a great valley.  The battle raged as the tide shifted back and forth, with the fate of the world at stake.  Despite insurmountable odds, the goblins and their demon masters were defeated by the narrowest of margins.  The remaining goblins were vanquished to the Goblin Nations in the north and the Great Southern Marshes near Valia.  Their masters, however, could not be killed.  They were instead imprisoned in the Demon Marshes.  Their greatest source of power was said to come from the prayers of those who worshiped them.

“For that reason, the goblins were told by the victors that their gods had been slain.  Separated from the faithful by mountains and great distance, the demons remained weak in their watery prison, preying only on the foolhardy that entered their realm.

“It is said that the loss of life in the final battle was so horrific that the loved ones of the dead wept uncontrollably.  Their tears of sorrow united and washed over the dead but did not allow them to float.  The storm of tears filled the valley and washed away all evidence of the massacre.  It also flooded the prison of the demon gods and added to their hatred of man and his allies.  The body of water created was the Sorrowful Sea.

“It is also said that, from time to time, a demon will escape the Marshes for a time and roam the lake, but they are bound to the marsh and always return.  In their stead, they are rumored to control various sea monsters created from their dead servants, who roam the sea and do their bidding.

I Hate Waiting

There are many things on my pet peeve list.  Many of them are common sense: waste, poor manners, senseless killing, poor sportsmanship and so forth.  Other items are more personal: people who use their horns too much in traffic (like it makes anyone go faster), family members using up all the data on my phone plan when I don’t get a chance to use it, people using all the hot water when they know I’m going to take a shower, people who park over the yellow line and take two parking spaces because they either are terrible parkers or think their vehicle is more important than anyone else’s, waiting for rebate checks to be mailed to me, getting rainchecks at the grocery store and especially waiting for an extended period.  Now I’m not talking about a long line at the checkout counter.  I mean really having to wait an abnormally long time.  Let’s take three examples.  So my lawnmower is broken.  It happens.  I took it into the repair shop and I’m told it will be a week.  The grass needs to be cut so I call a service.  More on that in a minute.  A week passes and I hear nothing.  I call and the person at the repair shop says they will call me in the next day or two.  They called a week later with an estimate.  They hadn’t even started working on it yet!  I understand being busy but why tell me 1 week when that wouldn’t even be close?  I approve the estimate and they say it will be ready in 3 days.  That was a week ago.  They have now had my mower 3 weeks and I can’t get hold of anyone to find out if it’s done yet.  The lawn mowing company I hired mowed the lawn the first week.  They didn’t do a great job but it was mowed.  The second week came and I waited…and waited…and for the heck of it, I waited some more.  I am still waiting.  Lions could stalk antelope in my grass, it’s that tall!  It has been two weeks since the last cutting.  I called the company but only get a machine.  That’s frustrating.  Yesterday I had two routine doctor’s appointments 2 ½ hours apart.  I showed up for the first one 15 minutes early and waited.   There was no one else in the waiting room.  Then it started to fill up.  At least 12 people were crammed in this little room with me.  Then they slowly started to take the other people back before me.  I tried not to be frustrated because I didn’t have all the information but I couldn’t understand why people waiting less time went in first.  After an hour and a half I was called back.  They took my vitals and sent me to a second waiting room with everyone else.  Finally I saw patients going into and out of the doctor’s office.  I thought I had planned it so well.  I would see this doctor, get some lunch and have some time to hang out before my second doctor’s appointment.  Now it was 15 minutes before my other appointment and it took 20 minutes to get there if I hit all the green lights.  So I marched up to the receptionist and asked how many people were still in front of me.  She said 5.  I told her I had to run but I would be back after my other appointment.  I made most of the green and yellow lights and arrived for my second appointment 5 minutes late.  That was ok.  After that was over I drove back and waited again at the first place where they had just passed my name on their list.  They finally got me in after another half an hour.  The appointment lasted 5 minutes.  There were no apologies or explanations.  What a day.  Who would have thought waiting could be so tiring.   

New Excerpt

A scribe sat in the alcove to record the events of the meeting.

“The first order of business,” he recited, “is the Lord of

Diplomacy’s report.”

A well-dressed gentleman came forward from the crowd. “My

liege,” he stated with a bow, “there is disturbing news about the

Unclaimed Territory. With neither Sartan nor the empire legally

permitted to introduce combat units into the disputed region, a

potentially volatile trend has emerged. Settlers from the Kingdoms

of Romadon, Rador, Valia and even the empire have begun settling

in the fertile region with little to be done about it. Now that you

have withdrawn our forces from the region, we have no leverage in

the zone.”

“How is that a concern to the empire?” Mandrean inquired

while accepting a drink from a servant.

“Sire,” stated the lord, “our informants tell us that Valia for

certain and perhaps each of the others has secretly promised

protection to the settlers as an enticement to move there.”

Mandrean had heard every word but was, after all, a man of

slow wit. Realizing that the significance of the information was

indeed lost on his master, the lord elaborated.

“Do you not see the implications for us, Sire? If that prairie is

settled and these nations provide protection, it is an underhanded

method of claiming the territory. Once the farmers are in place,

these kings need but only claim that there is a danger to their

people and send armies to protect them. They would appear to the

world to be innocent lambs but are in fact preying wolves. We

would be forced to either accept their annexation of the region or

fight three powers. The issue must be scrutinized.”

Mandrean grew agitated when the issue was brought into

perspective. “That land should have been ours years ago,” he

insisted. “Are you sure of your facts?”

The lord shuffled his papers and looked away. “We are certain

that the settlers are squatting and that they are doing so in

increasing numbers. As for the support guaranteed by the other

factions, we have one spy’s report from Valia and no others.”

“So this threat is little more than speculation at this time, is it

not?”

The lord became less at ease. “Sire, I truly believe that my

concerns are valid on this matter.”

“Fine. Then find out how correct they are, and report back to

me with something more definite. I am not inclined to mobilize our

forces without good reason.”

Snickering was heard from the gallery after the statement. The

sound set the emperor into a tizzy.

“Who laughed?” he yelled. No one spoke. The hall was silent.

“If I find that fool, he will be dead.” Still, no one spoke.

Seeing that his point was made, Mandrean returned his attention

to is Lord of Diplomacy. “What else have you?”

“Your regional commanders have been briefed on the other

matters, and they will address them in their reports.”

“Then waste no more of my time talking,” Mandrean told him.

The lord returned to his seat.

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

“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.”

“Save your magic. We will need it soon. Now everyone climb onto the railing. Use the tapestry to brace yourselves.” His bewildered family did as they were told and were soon balancing on the rail. “Alright, then. Follow my lead.” Linvin placed the Red Sapphire in his pocket and stabbed his short sword through the tapestry. Then he jumped off the railing. The sword slowed his descent as it sliced through the very fiber of Mandrean bravado. Following suit, Anvar and the twins dove in a similar manor and slid down the backside of the wall hanging.

The soldiers on the stairs were in such a hurry to climb the steps that steel blades sliding down the tapestry went unnoticed. In the hallway the guards were awestruck by the spectacle and did little more than watch as their adversary escaped.

Once Linvin and the others reached the ground he led them in a race for the grand entrance. After they cleared the front of the staircase all the men could see what became of their foe.  Though only moments passed, the guards on the top took an inordinate amount of time to cry out the location of Linvin’s band. All eyes turned to see them crossing the center of the room and nearing the exit. Immediately the soldiers on the stairs turned and stumbled back down the way they’d come.

It was time for Linvin’s masterstroke. He held up his fist and the party stopped. Then he turned and regarded the majestic work of art, which had been formed into a staircase. “Anvar,” he said calmly. “That needs to be gone…now.” Anvar nodded and stretched forth his hands. Concentrating longer than they had ever seen him do before, Anvar built up such an aura of orange magic that a sphere glowed around his body. All at once he released the energy just as the first guards returned to the second floor landing. The wave of magic struck the stairs with a thunderclap as they exploded sending stone and men alike hurtling through the air. Those on the top level were cut off from their main access to the first floor and Linvin.

The Author: Thomas Jefferson

Today instead of posting an excerpt as usual, I would like to pay homage to a most significant yet somehow forgotten author.  His name was Thomas Jefferson.  Out of the Continental Congress it was Jefferson who was chosen to draft the Declaration of Independence.  Other founding fathers had input on the document but it was Jefferson who did the heavy lifting.  It was not an enviable task.  It was his job to articulate the body’s opinions and then have them critiqued and torn apart by the same body of men.  Imagine how he must have felt, sitting at his desk for weeks with a quill in hand trying to find the proper words to say to England that would tell them that the Colonies were rebelling against their masters.  The words had to be strong yet levelheaded.  He didn’t want to come off sounding like a Virginia farmer but this was no flowery work of Shakespeare either.  Add the expectations of the congress to the mix and you can see that he had no simple task writing that sheet of paper.  Even under all that pressure, he created a masterpiece, which has resonated through time.  Few documents have ever captured a moment in history so eloquently.  Can you imagine what the response must have been when this was read in the court of King George III in England?  There must have been outrage, to be sure.  Deep down, maybe, just maybe someone in the room silently found the words stirring or was moved by the impassioned cry from across the waves.  Perhaps that’s too much to hope for but it must have made an impression.  Jefferson did not come by the words entirely on his own.  Other members of the congress helped in a 5 man committee.  As a educated man, Jefferson read many documents and strung together some crucial ideas along the way.  He believed that all men were created equal and that they were entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Those are the ideas that really stick out in the minds of people when asked about the Declaration of Independence.  Those are the words at the heart of America.  He may not have been the most prolific writer but at least in this case, Jefferson got it right.  And to think, he did it all without “spell check.”  Bravo Mr. Jefferson.  The congress adopted the Declaration on July 4, 1776 which formally set the wheels of revolution in motion.  Over two-hundred years later that author is at the heart of the reason so many of the people reading this have the day off from work.  I guess one author can make a huge difference in the world.  To my American friends, enjoy the holiday!        

Book Promo and Guest Post

The good people at Katie’s Corner Blog were kind enough to have me do a guest post on their site.  Be sure to read my article about writer’s block.  They featured me and my books.  Check it out at http://crasyabout.blogspot.com/2015/07/book-promo-guest-post-mandrean-revenge.html  Happy reading!

New Excerpt

“No,” cried Necromancer. “What have you done, Mordane?

This fabric is sacred.” He took it over by the water basin and

rinsed it. The wine was coming out, but the wizard was still

panicked.

Meanwhile, Mordane was picking himself up off the ground.

“What was that all about?” he asked while confirming all his teeth

had remained intact.

Necromancer made the rag glow with magic. Steam rose

quickly leaving the material dry in moments. He held it up to the

light and stared at the very fibers.

“This is the only remaining piece of Gallatrium’s cloak. I hope

for your sake you did not ruin it.”

“Do I know this Gallatrium?”

“You have much to learn, young one. This is old. It is a story

far older than written records. It is older than history itself. Long

before the many dark ages when the world was young, there was a

wise man that had been particularly blessed by his creator. His

name was Gallatrium and instead of world power, he chose to be a

simple farmer living with his family in solitude. He could have

been the greatest man to ever live but wanted nothing from his

power other than to care for his family.

“There were no other souls near his land save for he and his

four children. The one time he gave into temptation to use his

power for personal gain the creator took his wife from the world.

Thus, he lived a simple life and sought neither fame nor adulation.

He chose to protect his offspring from greed and the world around.

No harm could possibly come to them on his farm. He gave them

all that any father could give his children.

“As Gallatrium’s offspring grew in age, they also grew in

curiosity. Increasingly they yearned to see what the mysterious

world had to offer. Gallatrium warned them of the evils they would

find if they were to leave his house and forbade their departure. He

cautioned that leaving his house would mean he could no longer

protect and watch over them. The world was a cruel and deceptive

place for which they were not prepared.

“His stories only served to raise the children’s interest. The

outside being forbidden made it doubly intriguing. And so, one

night the four children of Gallatrium conspired to leave home in

four separate directions. They planned to walk until the sun rose

and then return to tell their father of their adventure.

“At the appointed time, they noticed that the night had taken on

a strong chill. They donned their cloaks but did not find them

warm enough for the unseasonably cold wind. One took his

father’s cloak for it was warmer than all others. Gallatrium wore it

every day and never felt cold beneath its surface. Jealousy and

envy overcame the other three children regarding the garment and

a fight ensued. When they were finished, their father’s cloak was

torn to shreds on the ground. The children blamed each other and

soon they neared blows. Vowing to never want to see the others

again, they set out on their separate paths. So great was their anger

at the others that they paid no heed to their path.

“When the sun reached the sky, they were in an unfamiliar

world of new things to see and do. By the time they thought of

returning home, they knew not which way to tread. They searched

in vain. Gallatrium’s farm was forever lost to them. Each

wandered aimlessly along in the wicked world. Nearing death,

they stopped searching and started homes of their own.

“When Gallatrium woke that morning after they left, he saw

that his children were gone. He had been hurt as no one could hurt

him. Falling to the floor he sobbed. His tears flowed onto the cloak

and brought out the handprints of his young ones.

“By picking up a piece one had touched, it enabled him to see

the child who had torn that piece of cloth. Though he could do

nothing to help any of them in the terrible times that came to pass

in their lives, he still had to watch as any parent would. To repair

his cloak was as impossible as repairing the relationship amongst

the children. And so he spent his days holding these rags and

watching his children in their successes and failures.

“Without his cloak, the cold north winds beat on him, and his

body aged. In time, he was a shadow of his former greatness, held

up in his desolate abode, with his only comfort being the sight of

his children and their families.”

Mordane had heard every word and was amazed at the story. “Is

it true?” he asked.

Necromancer nodded solemnly. “By the time Gallatrium died,

this one piece was all that remained, and he parted with it only in

his passing.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Mordane asked.

Necromancer smiled his devilish smile and answered, “It was I

that took it from him.”