Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

Servants climbed the stairs carrying his armaments. Mandrean displayed great excitement at seeing his old gear. He eagerly awaited its application. They began by pulling a suit of chain mail over his head and body. It clung tightly at his chest and stomach. As a result, the chains stopped at his waist and provided no protection for his lower half. It was suggested another suit be fetched from the armory in a larger size. Mandrean would not hear of it. After his conversation with Fendri, Mandrean was determined to fit into his old armor at all cost.

Next the plate armor laid over the mail. The bracers and leg supports still fit fine. The breastplate, however, was a different issue. While Mandrean’s stomach had grown, his armor had not. Still insisting on wearing the masterfully crafted armor meant for a young, fit man, Mandrean ordered the tailors to make alterations to accommodate his growth. The bindings connecting the front and back plates were lengthened with leather straps. One thing they could not change was the height of the metal. The front plate stopped midway across Mandrean’s abdomen. His enhanced chest and stomach made adjustment impossible. Shoulder armor was tied to the front and back plates. Then a massive fur cloak was fitted to the armor. The lining of the fur was purple silk. After a long look in the mirror, Mandrean was satisfied and awaited his final accessory.

A servant knelt before him and raised a long sword toward his master. Mandrean’s eyes came to life as he took the scabbard and tied it to his belt. Once it was secure, he drew the blade. Though it was the length of any long sword, similarities ended there. It was a fine, hardened steel which was black in color from the elements used in its forging. Though pointed at the end, it was not the only area for opponents to avoid. The sides had been painstakingly filed to create massive teeth with sharpened edges pointed at the hilt. Such teeth could catch an opponent’s shield or armor and strip it away with a bold stroke. If the blade were to slash against flesh, it would tear through like a woodsman’s saw, only pausing upon striking bone. A stabbing blow would be little better for the victim. Upon withdrawing the blade its teeth would rip through vital organs and make their survivability impossible. The weapon was more a tool for a butcher than a sword for an Emperor. Replacing the sword in its scabbard, Mandrean confidently strode down the stairs and headed for the door.

 

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

“Your temper is what needs to be controlled, Linvin.  How many times in the last few weeks have you lost control with Rander alone?  He is not even your enemy.  Then you let some barnyard-smelling ruffians pick a fight with you.”

Linvin fired back, “They crossed the line!”

“Then perhaps,” Anvar responded while sitting down, “the line was drawn too close.  Your skin must grow thicker to be a great leader.  Otherwise, you will be doomed to the life of a puppet whose strings are easily drawn.”

Anvar continued his lesson.  “You chose to take action in spite of the condition of the party.  It was a bold but unwise choice on your part.  You ended up surrounded but still managed to fight your way through them.  For that, I give you credit.  Unfortunately, you once again let your temper rule your actions.  After brilliantly handling the first two men, you took your time with the leader.  Had you finished him quickly, you could have easily noticed the bartender or perhaps helped one of us.  Instead, you spent a good amount of time flogging him, did you not?”

Linvin stuck his chin out as anger swelled within his being.  He stared at a patch of forest where Anvar could not directly see his face.  “I wanted him to suffer,” he said at last.  “I wanted him to pay for what he had said and done.  He had humiliated me and I wanted to return the sentiment.  In the end though, I wanted to squeeze his neck until I could feel his windpipe crush beneath my fingers.”

Anvar softened his face and walked over to Linvin.  Brushing his nephew’s cheek ever so slightly with his hand, he turned Linvin’s eyes to meet his own.  “You wanted revenge, my boy.  You wanted it for their actions, but I think you also wanted it for the loss of your parents.

“I am not immune to such feelings, either, but you must remember, revenge is not a path to a positive end.  Revenge leads to unclear thinking and poor decisions.  It was your desire for vengeance that made you lose track of the bartender.  Instead of being victorious, we were chased out like rats because of your pride and shortsightedness.  That was your greatest failure.

“Think of this journey, and your life, for that matter, as training to be worthy of the Red Sapphire.  Simply being strong or intelligent is not sufficient for the power you have been chosen to wield.  You need patience and diplomacy working alongside brawn and brain.  Only then can you and the gem reach your full potential.  Protecting the weak and the helpless is a far cry from revenge.  Strive to be the great man you were meant to be and you will find him within yourself.

 

Book Piracy

When I put on a movie at home, I always fast-forward through the FBI warning.  It never meant a whole lot to me.  It’s kind of like those commercials about donating to cancer research.  You don’t think much about it until someone close to you comes down with the disease.  Well the copy write warning never meant much to me until I was chatting with a fellow writer the other day.  He told me he had lost over 1000 downloads of just one of his books that he knew of to illegal internet piracy downloads.  1000 books gets you near the best seller’s list.  That’s also a nice piece of change coming out of his pocket.  He said every time he appeared on a blog or wed site, his pirated downloads went up.  So I asked him how to find the sites offering one’s book.  He told me and I decided to look.  I didn’t expect to find anything.  Little old me?  No one would bother pirating my books.  I was mistaken.  5 sites were offering my books for free!  Who knows how long they have been out there but there they were, clear as day.  The evil part of my brain hopes they downloaded some malware or virus along with the book.  I contacted my publisher (Who is great at this sort of thing, by the way) and they applied the pressure to have them all taken down within 24 hours.  One of them, however, had the audacity to just take the words “for the” out of “Quest for the Red Sapphire” and had the site back up again the next day.  What are they getting out of this that they want to give my book away so badly?  Did I wrong them in some way?  Was I mean to them in school?  Some of these sites could have been up for over 2 years.  How many sales did I lose?  I love to write but I also love to get paid for it.  How much money was stolen from my family?  According to my publisher, this happens when I send a blog a copy of my book to review.  After they’re done reading it, they have an electronic copy just hanging around.  Instead of deleting it, either they or a friend offer it to the general public for free.  That is not what was agreed upon when it was sent to them!  The saddest part of all in this is that many people see this as a victimless crime.  These books represent years of our lives in making them.  The publisher, cover artist, editor and author all deserve to be paid for that work.  You work hard.  You deserve to be paid for your work, just as we do.  So next time you want a book, order it legally.  You’ll feel better and so will the people who made the book.

New Excerpt

After a long silence, Mandrean spoke. “Today our Empire has

lost a great general, patriot, teacher and friend. A brilliant military

mind is gone forever. He will be missed. Let us hold our memories

of him dear and take to heart his lessons, even from his deathbed.”

Necromancer heard the final statement and knew the time had

come to reframe the issue. He floated out of his seat, bowing to

Mandrean and then the crowd. “My Master and good people of the

empire, the loss of General Gramlick was a blow like no other. Let

no assassinations of his character ever be spoken, for he served this

empire to the last.

“And let us not forget that it was only the late general who

would stand up and say that the same empire is broken! It has not

been the same since the incident in Trader’s Ally. Every general

here speaks of revolts, taxes unpaid, mines shut down and near

mutiny.” He addressed the generals. “Were these problems so

blatant before the entrance of that despicable Sartanian into our

midst?”

Seeing an opportunity to exonerate their positions, the generals

other than Tathbar joined his sermon. “It was entirely his fault,”

cried one. “He made us look weak,” added another.

“And so he did,” Necromancer railed as he worked the room

into a frenzy. “If I may be so bold as to say his name, Linvin

Grithinshield is the cause of all our ills. He incited the people and

decimated the legions in a most unfair and cowardly battle. The

finest horsemen in the world were killed without even being given

a chance to defend themselves. The capital nearly burned to the

ground, and this palace was likewise defaced and mutilated. Lord

Mandrean was even held as a hostage for a brief time.

“Only the wise rule of our great emperor has seen us through

these dark days that have followed. I have heard countless excuses

and accusations in this chamber, but the true cause of all our

problems is not the empire or the emperor. It is the one who

insulted both and ran away like a fox in the night. Linvin

Grithinshield is the problem. His memory sparks revolution. His

insolence insults every citizen. He emboldened Sartan to force us

out of the Unclaimed Territory and inspire desertions into its

borders. It is not beyond reason that he played a hand in the demise

of the great Gramlick. The onset of his illness nearly coincided

with Grithinshield’s arrival. Make no mistake about it. Linvin

Grithinshield came here to single handedly begin the fall of our

empire. Even our all-powerful emperor still strains from wounds

dealt by the fox during his escape from justice.

“Too long have we tried to make our problems complex when

their solution is so simple. Grithinshield must return to answer for

his crimes!” The crowd cheered. “Only once Emperor Mandrean

has vanquished him for all to see will the minions fall in line and

restore the glory of the greatest land Lavacia has ever seen. With

our pride and honor reestablished, no nation would dare stand in

our way.”

Blog Appearance

Today Laurie’s Thoughts and Reviews was kind enough to do a spotlight on me and my books.  It’s one of the biggest blogs in the field.  There are links and also a fun excerpt.  Take a moment to check it out at http://lauries-interviews.blogspot.com/2015/08/mandrean-revenge-by-rival-gates.html  As always, enjoy the read!

Walk and Text

When I was a kid the joke was always, “Can’t you walk and chew gum at the same time?”  Times have changed.  Social media is here to stay.  For my children’s generation the joke is more like, “Can’t you walk and Tweet at the same time?”  Apparently for a lot of people the answer is “No.”   In the last ten years the average number of people injured or killed as pedestrians has increased 4 times its previous rate.  The main reasons are people are busy texting or chatting or Skyping or Tweeting or updating Facebook and not paying attention to where they are going.  There are videos all the time on the internet of someone falling because they were busy on their phone.  There is a growing movement in this country to keep people off their phones while driving but not many realize the danger of simply walking.  Some of my worst injuries happened when I was just walking and paying attention.  (They involved ice)  I can’t imagine what would have happened if I were texting at that time.  I know it sounds over the top to say, “Don’t Tweet and walk” or “Don’t text and walk” but this is becoming a real problem.  People are walking in front of cars or falling in awkward places and being badly hurt.  If it seems like I’m on a soap box, I don’t want to be.  People love their phones.  The data plans for my family keep getting bigger and bigger.  There is just so much you can you can use them for; and that’s great.  Social media is useful, fun and here to stay.  For me it is a way to connect with my readers.  For others it’s just a way to keep up on the latest gossip.  For your own safety, though, wait until you are standing still and out of the way before diving into the thumb exercise machine.  All it takes is one accident for you to wish you had waited.  You may not be driving a car but your body has no airbags to protect you either. 

New Excerpt

“Last time you fought Grithinshield he barely bested you after

he had used his tricks. That was not your fault, Master. He could

use the full power of the Red Sapphire and you were limited in

your output from the Blue Sapphire because you do not have the

matching staff for it to give you access to its entire might. It would

even heal your wound permanently. With the proper staff, you

could kill the fox and save your lands.”

The crowd cheered again. Mandrean used his hands to gesture

to them for silence. He looked at Necromancer with curiosity.

“Before you openly criticized my fighting abilities and said I could

not defeat him even with the proper staff. Your change in opinion

leaves me skeptical of your motives.” He bore in mind Gramlick’s

last warning.

“I was rash in my statements before,” the wizard pleaded. “I

trust you have enough savvy to devise a way to vanquish

Grithinshield if your magic is even.”

“You said before that you could not find the staff. What has

changed?”

Necromancer smiled and produced the ancient garment from his

pocket. “This has changed the dynamic of the situation. Rub this

magical garment over the Blue Sapphire. The stone has been in

contact with its staff before. Some trace of it should have been left

on the gem.”

Mandrean did not fully understand but took the cloth anyway.

He polished his prized possession and returned the woven material

to his court magician. Necromancer smiled his most insidious

smile and hovered over the map of the world on the floor.

Necromancer closed his eyes and fell into a trance. Without

warning, his body began to glow and change shape. The

metamorphosis looked grotesque. His body shifted and twisted

before the amazed onlookers. When the light from the magic

faded, Necromancer was an old man in appearance. Disguised as

Gallatrium he proceeded to speak to the cloth.

“My old cloak, that magic stone has touched the staff that

makes it whole. You have touched it. Now show me the location of

the staff so that they may be reunited.” He cast it high into the air

and cried out, “Show me where the blue staff is located.”

The cloth flashed a blinding white light as it landed on the map.

Mandrean joined Necromancer beside and watched. The fabric

grew into a vast moving picture on the floor with a view

descending through clouds. Such speed and imagery was similar to

what might be seen while falling off a cliff. In fact, a violent wind

blew over them with just such a force. When it seemed that they

would be blown away, the picture finally focused on the location

of the staff. The image centered on a structure.

“Now show us who possesses the staff.” Necromancer

demanded.

The picture changed, and both men smiled at once. They looked

at each other and for the first time ever had the same goal.

“That is amazing,” Mandrean muttered.

“I never would have looked for it there,” Necromancer said

unemotionally.

“Now that we know where it is, I have a job for you,

Necromancer. A scheme is coming together in my mind that is

perfect for this. I could not have planned this better. Our troubles

are about to end.”

“Indeed they are,” agreed Necromancer.

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

 

“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.”

“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 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.

He found Miri feeling her side where Hugon struck her. Her face winced as she touched the wound. “There are at least a couple of broken ribs in there,” Linvin said as he sat down. “Fortunately, they do not appear to be dislocated. They will heal in time. Until then, keep your breaths shallow and make no sudden movements.”

Miri’s eyes cleared and she gave herself the rest of the water Linvin left in the cup. She looked at Linvin and gave a weak laugh. “You have me practically mummified here. I doubt I will be making any sudden movements. Who was it that undressed me and bound me like this?”

“For your information,” Linvin said firmly, “It is called a field dressing and I was the one who applied it to you.”

“It hardly seems appropriate for you to see my body unclothed,” Miri firmly noted.

“There was no time for civility,” Linvin stated. “Either I had to tend to you or you would be dead. If you still are displeased then you had better get used to it. If we live to see the end of this day I am going to have to change those dressings. Fear not. When tending wounds I look at you as just another man.”

Miri pursed her lips and said, “Well if that is how it will be I suppose I will just envision you as a woman. Then neither of us is embarrassed.”

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

Linvin walked over and picked up one of their bows.  It's construction was flimsy and its draw light.  “When your enemy is close, a sword becomes your best friend.  While a bow is a powerful tool of war, these are little more than toys.”  He effortlessly drew the string and released it.  “They would never penetrate plate mail.”

Rander was incensed by the insult.  “Let us see about that.”  He entered the kitchen and returned with a thin metal plate from the stove.  He placed it against the outside wall of the hut and walked across the rope bridge, to the next tree.  In all, he was roughly twenty paces away.  Drawing back the bowstring as far as he could, he sent an arrow into the plate.  It pierced the metal and poked just through the other side.

“How about that?” Rander asked with obvious pride.

Linvin looked at the plate and then at his cousin.  “What is your point?” Linvin asked.  “So you can pierce armor once the person is close enough to charge you.  You would be dead, long before your arrow was airborne.  If you are trying to impress me, you will have to do better.”

Rander was enraged.  “You could do no better.”

Linvin did love a challenge.  “We shall see,” he said as he picked up the plate.  “Let me show you a real shot.”  Linvin climbed down the rope ladder and walked down the street.  He stopped roughly one hundred paces away and hung the plate in a tree, using the arrow Rander had lodged in the metal.  Linvin turned and walked over to his horse.  He retrieved his compound bow and a single arrow.  Climbing back to the landing, Rander was indignant.

“I will laugh so hard when you miss this shot,” he gloated.  Linvin smiled and drew his bow.  The butt of the arrow nearly touched his mouth as he eyed his target.

Rander suddenly realized that there was a chance Linvin could make the shot.  In an effort to distract his cousin, Rander began talking very loudly and making gestures aimed at drawing Linvin’s attention.  The juvenile tactic had little effect on the seasoned concentration of Linvin. 

Letting the arrow loose, Linvin watched it slice through the air and bury itself dead center in the plate.  The concussion of the blow knocked Rander’s arrow to the ground, leaving the plate dangling from Linvin’s arrow.

Bander and Rander were speechless in the aftermath of the display.  Linvin patted Rander on the shoulder and said, “Keep practicing, but please do get a real bow.  It is embarrassing for an elf to use a child’s plaything.”

Just then, Caritha yelled from the house.  “Where is my plate from the stove?”

“Linvin used it for target practice, Mother,” Rander called back.  Linvin shook his head and climbed down to retrieve the plate.

At that moment, Anvar emerged from the hut.  “What are you boys doing out here?” he asked.   Bander had been stupefied by the display but managed to stand before his uncle and say, “You should have seen it.  Linvin put an arrow through one of ma’s cook plates from all the way down there.”

Anvar bent over the rail and observed Linvin retrieving the target.  “I am not surprised,” Anvar concluded.

“He got lucky!” Rander snorted.  “Anyone could have made that shot when there’s no pressure.  That didn’t prove a thing.”

Anvar shook his head and lovingly shook Rander’s shoulder.  “Now, Rander,” he began, “I know all about your history with Linvin, and I care for you both.  However, you need to stop and consider what he brings to the party.  Your cousin is one of the finest generals in the world.  He walked away from more than you realize in order to come with us.”

Guest Post/Book Review

Kelly Smith Reviews was kind enough to let me do a guest post from the character’s point of view and review “Mandrean Revenge”.  She gave it 4/5 stars and was very flattering.  You can check it all out at http://kellysmithreviews.blogspot.com/2015/08/book-review-guest-post-mandrean-revenge.html  My thanks to her and her site for the ringing endorsement.

 

Back To School

Well, it’s back to school time here in America’s heartland.  My wife handles all the back to school shopping but this is the first year I’ve looked at the receipts.  When did this get so expensive?  When I went back to school I would get a new pair of shoes (the cheap ones) 2 pairs of Tough-Skin jeans from Sears and maybe 2 new shirts.  For school I needed pens, pencils, crayons, pencil crayons and erasers.  My backpack, pencil case and so on would just carry on from the year before.  I have 2 teen aged daughters.  1 is in 8^th grade and the other is starting college.  Just for school supplies we spent over $200 and didn’t even get everything on the list!  That was for 1 child.  Talk about Christmas is July. (We started buying in July)  And these were all on sale.  Next we moved on to clothes.  Fortunately they wear uniforms at her school so there isn’t as much to buy.  That doesn’t mean I dodged that bullet.  First she needed shoes.  After shopping around my wife finally found an acceptable pair of shoes.  (No, they weren’t cheap!)  Then there was the gym outfit.  Shouldn’t that we like shorts and a tee shirt and cost about $15 total.  Apparently that’s not how it works anymore.  You need the Under Armor outfit of just the right size for a maturing girl.  That cost more than the shoes…for a gym outfit.  Then came the stop at Victoria’s Secret.  You know what her secret is?  She’s going to take all your money and make you want to come back once you have more.  That store is evil I tell you, evil.  The oldest daughter had to get in on that trip.  To get you in there they offer all these exciting gifts with purchase.  If you don’t make it there the first day of the sale, though, no gift for you except a receipt.  Casinos should take notes from them.  Now I don’t know what happens in that store.  Maybe the air circulation system sprays endorphins in the air or they have hypnotic music.  All I know is perfectly rational women enter there and lose all self-control of their buying impulses.  It’s back to school.  Who cares about how “cute” your bras and panties are?  Apparently someone does because they spent the most money there and said, “We didn’t even really get anything.”  I’m telling you, that store has some sort of mind control that makes women want to spend and men want to wait outside.  So what’s the point of all this?  Back to school has become a huge industry to which parents are simply slaves.  When did it get so out of control?  

New Excerpt

Linvin finished his tea and poured another cup. “That all sounds

fine. Now tell me the bad news.”

Gradon leaned on one arm and nodded. “Increased growth,

especially in a short span, opens opportunities for corruption and

theft throughout the company. The count has found many

perpetrators like a predator chasing down his prey. He can fill in

the stories for you. The problem I see is that there may be

members of our organization dealing in a dishonest way without

our knowing.

“Even though the new stores are not run directly by us, they

still reflect the company and expansion makes monitoring that

much more difficult. I am pleased with the direction we are

heading. It was just so much easier in the old days when Dirk and I

ran this store and only had to worry about this building.”

Linvin placed his cup and saucer on the desk and lit his pipe.

After a drag, he turned to look out the window. He saw a carriage

of great stature rolling toward the store and knew it to belong to

Count Venicci. Linvin then turned his attention back to Gradon.

“I understand your lament, old friend. Those were golden days

when the store was young. As I recall, I had less hair, and you had

more. Perhaps the expansion was too quick and too broad. Time

will answer that, I suppose. The decisions I made may be radical

even to a visionary like my father. Nevertheless, the economic

climate is changing so rapidly that standing by and doing business

as it has always been done would have left us behind and soon

without a company at all. It is a better thing to kill the rats in your

cellar than to let your house be destroyed.

“If you need more staff to oversee matters, hire them. Root out

those who would tarnish my name. For it is that name the people

trust. There is a great demand for our goods in the markets of the

world. If we do not fill that need, another entity not interested in

fair dealings likely will. This is not simply about money. It is a

responsibility to spread our values of fair play and honest business

to the market.”

The sound of the metal knob of a walking stick was heard

knocking at the door. “Come in, good count,” Linvin called. The

door flew open. Stepping into the room was a tall, lean gentleman

dressed impeccably in white with gold threading and a tailored

midnight-blue cape. He pulled his matching top hat from his head,

revealing his nearly bald scalp and bowed in a most distinguished

fashion.

What little hair he had, and his wrinkled skin betrayed the fact

that his years far exceeded that of Gradon. Even so, he displayed a

spring in has stride and zest in his movements scarcely seen in any

man, let alone one of his advanced age.

“My dear Linvin Grithinshield,” the count said as he rose. “On

behalf of myself and the entire Venicci Banking clan, I celebrate

your return to our fair city.”

Linvin stepped out from behind the desk and shook the count’s

hand with both of his. “It is good to see you again, my friend,”

Linvin said with a smile. “I understand you and Gradon have been

busy.”

The count turned and shook Gradon’s hand, “Once again, a

pleasure to work by your side Gradon.” Gradon returned the

sentiment while Linvin closed the door.

Linvin resumed his seat and pulled a ledger from the pile. “We

have a limited time before Mr. Gredly arrives, and we have much

to discuss.”

Venicci took a seat by Gradon and produced his own ledgers.

“Even the mentioning of that man’s name feeds my contempt,” the

count remarked with disdain.

“That is precisely why you are my accountant,” Linvin noted.

“Now show me the irregularities.”

As morning turned to afternoon, the three dealt with corruption

in the outlying stores, merchandise procurement, potential

opportunities, financing and the overall health of the company.

Linvin was satisfied with the decisions made and the courses being

pursued. As if on cue, there was a half-hearted knock at the door.

Linvin nodded to Gradon who opened it for their new guest.

Blog Appearance

Writer Marie Lavender has a blog called, “Writing in the Modern Age.”  She put together a couple dozen authors and asked them the question, “Why Do We Write?”  I was honored to be one of the authors asked to participate.  My answer is about half way down the list.  The authors’ answers are as varied as they are.  So take a look and enjoy mine and the others’ answers.  Here is the link:  http://bit.ly/1VNGF1R

 

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

Meanwhile, in Missandor, the six stealthy individuals had invaded Linvin’s tree with the fall of night.  The once pristine amenities were soon strewn around and destroyed.  One climbed from floor to floor watching his minions searching in vain.  “Leave nothing unchecked,” he ordered.  “We must be thorough if we are to find the prize or move on in confidence.”

When the destruction was complete, the group reunited on the main floor.  “Now where do we go?” Two asked.

One paced within a circle formed by his brethren.  “They are aware of our pursuit, that is clear.  Anvar Greenlith and Linvin Grithinshield have either left to search for the ultimate prize or left to hide what they possess.  Regardless of the reason, our next best chance to find them will be with their only close family in the area.  That takes us to Varns.”

It was then that Four entered the house holding a young boy by the arm.  “This lad has some information of interest,” Four announced.

One knelt before the child and told him, “Fear not, boy.  You will be rewarded for helping us track down a criminal.”  The boy looked around at the destruction around him, afraid and silent.  Seeing his face, One produced a small sack of gold and handed it to the boy.  “Now,” One began, “tell us what you know.”

Quivering, the boy began to speak.  “I delivered a message here, from an old elf in Fraylic, a few days ago.  The man or elf that lived here paid me so much for getting it here, that I wanted to thank him the next day.  I got up early to do that but saw them leaving town.”

“Them?” asked Four.

“Aye,” the Boy said.  “The old elf that sent me was with him.”

“Which way did they go?” Three asked.

“S…south, it was,” the boy said with increasing apprehension.

One drew his face very close to the boy’s face.  “Did the half elf have a staff with him?”

The boy looked away.  “It was dark.  It was hard to see.  I…”

One lost patience.  “Yes or no!  Did he have a staff with him?”

“No,” the boy said at first.  “Wait…he might have.  There was something long hanging beside his horse.  It could have been a staff.”

One nodded and resumed his pacing.  “You have seen much, young boy.”  One walked over and removed the sack from the boy’s hand.  “Too much, I’m afraid.  Four, do be certain he never has the opportunity to tell anyone else what he has seen.”

The boy tried to scream, but Four covered his mouth and dragged him up the stairs to meet his end.

“Crime has become so ruthless,” One commented.  “Take that boy.  He comes back with his unruly friends to rob the benevolent man who paid him so well only a few days before.  He destroys the house, only to be killed by his two-timing friends and left for the authorities.  I tell you, my friends, the world has become a sad place.  Let us leave this den of sin and be on our way.

Four rejoined them as they neared the door.  He was wiping blood from his hands with one of Linvin’s kitchen towels.  “So do we head south?” he asked One.

“That would seem logical,” One commented, “however, south is not much of a destination, but Varns is.  Grithinshield is known as a great strategist and Anvar Greenlith has proven to be more wise than we gave him credit for.  The heading, the boy thief observed, could have been a ruse to throw us off the trail.  In fact, I am quite sure it was.  If that were the case, then they would have gone in the opposite direction that the boy said.  That would be north and north leads us back to Varns.  Now let us go.  Our quarry is slipping away.”

New Excerpt

Far away in the palace, there was another rather emotional

person. Necromancer was in the midst of a fit of rage in his study.

He upended his worktable and scattered the papers everywhere.

A goblet of wine spilled on the floor. Picking up a chair with

surprising ease, he smashed it to the ground. His horrified

assistant, Mordane, stood in a corner and watched the tantrum with

the look of one who has seen the play before and still did not enjoy

it.

“I am so sick of this miserable existence—that I must serve that

ignorant slob of an emperor. He orders me around like a common

soldier. Fate must be teasing me. Otherwise, he would realize the

powers he is dealing with and beware.”

“To have but one day of freedom… I would take the stars in my

bare hands and smash his useless skull like a grape. With just a

moment’s reprieve, I’d turn his body inside out until only his

bones showed. Then I would slowly squeeze his heart in my hands

until it crushed under the weight of my fingers. Do you hear me?

Can no one grant me the vengeance I so rightly deserve?” His fist

slammed against the wall.

“What a joke this is! Somewhere someone must be laughing at

me. They must think this is a clever ruse indeed—that I could be

yoked like oxen and driven to do the most menial of tasks all these

years. And though the oxen hate the farmer, they must serve or

die.” He kicked at the papers on the floor.

Mordane stepped out of the corner and bowed before

Necromancer. “Master, there is no one laughing, and the only joke

is how foolish the Mandreans have been all these years in their

treatment of you. You will do the laughing, Eminence. You will

laugh when you are free again.”

Necromancer threw his head back. “Oh, to be free once again.

How marvelous it would be to go where I please, not to sit in this

vile dungeon and wait to be called to play court jester by a man not

even worthy of being one.”

His assistant tried to calm his master. “My lord, you are the

great Necromancer.”

“That is a slave name.” Necromancer screeched in a higher,

more sinister voice.

“Forgive me, my lord. Still, no being in the world could

compare to you. Your powers cannot be matched. As you always

say, your day will come and then all will shudder in fear of your

power. That day is not far off. You have waited so many years. A

few more will pass before you know it and…”

“But how long until that day comes, Mordane?” he said in

frustration. “I have been patient. I have waited and waited and still

I wait! I will not wait another year or another day. Mandrean must

die! I must free myself of this torture.”

Mordane knew his master was furious but also knew that there

was no way for him to change his circumstance any time soon. He

had heard the speeches before. In spite of the fact that each

instance sounded more desperate, he expected little more than for

Necromancer to eventually settle down with a cask of wine for the

night.

“You know the consequences you would face if you dealt with

Lord Mandrean yourself,” Mordane said while kneeling at

Necromancer’s feet. “Calm yourself or Mandrean wins!”

Mandrean Revenge Trailer

Here’s my new book trailer for Mandrean Revenge.  I hope you enjoy it.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZL_knO95Tk

 

Mandrean Revenge Trailer

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

Mandrean sipped his wine and looked out the window. Without looking at Fendri, he spoke to the man. “We are alone now. Speak your mind.”

Fendri resumed cleaning the mess on the floor. “I have no opinion fit to give, My Master.”

Mandrean walked over and held out his hand. Helping Fendri to his feet he said, “I believe that about as much as I believe the rubbish Betrimpia was spewing.”

Fendri let out a slight laugh and set down the tray. Then he sat on an accent chair and nibbled at some bacon from breakfast. “I have known you my entire life. We were childhood friends. Our fathers were friends. We were schooled together. In the army I served as your Weapon’s Bearer and guarded your back on many campaigns. Now I run your personal affairs and your household with the utmost discretion.”

“These things I know, Old Friend,” Mandrean concurred. “What point are you making?”

Fendri threw the bacon aside and walked briskly to the emperor. “My point is I know you better than anyone. Yet even I cannot understand why you allow that woman to continue to waste the air other people could be breathing. She is a devious, manipulative shrew.”

“She was my first concubine,” Mandrean said firmly.

“She brings nothing but distress to your house. You have never been a sentimental person so your argument carries no weight. Why do you not have her killed? You are the Emperor. No one would give the murder a moment’s pause. Eliminate her before she eliminates you.”

Mandrean laughed. “You give her too much credit.”

“You don’t give her enough,” snapped Fendri. “Look at her rein of intimidation in the lower halls. The other girls are terrified of her. They see her treacherous nature. I see it. Why is it that you do not?”

“She has been with me nearly twenty years,” Mandrean stated. “I cannot throw that away so easily. She has an attachment to me.”

Fendri’s agitation increased. “I have just witnessed that attachment. Do you know what I saw? What just played out here was a puppet master with her favorite marionette putting on a show. The so-called ‘attachment’ you felt were the strings she pulled to bend you to her will.”

Mandrean’s short temper rose at an alarming rate as he heard Fendri’s description. “Your joke is not funny.”

“Then it is a good thing I was not joking,” Fendri stated firmly. “You have always trusted me and I have never given you cause to doubt my sincerity. Believe me when I say she is playing you like an instrument. Look at what she does objectively and you will see she gets what she wants from you. I tell you no good will come of this. She has a plan. Once it is put into effect, it will not end well for you. Kill her now, while you still can.”

Mandrean’s anger was tempered by the genuine display of concern from his closest friend. He set down his goblet and paced with his hands behind his back. The conversation with Betrimpia played through his mind. “I know you believe all those things to be true,” he began. “I am no one’s puppet. Look at all the things she asked for and did not receive. She holds no control over me.”

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

By the time Linvin had finished his last dance, he was wishing he had chosen the other sandals.  The time had come for the remainder of the party to move to the roof deck.  A simple bar attended by servants quenched the thirsts of the patrons.  It was the part of the evening in which guests could shed their responsibilities in society and relax.  There was an unwritten rule that one’s actions on the balcony were not to be held against them.  In fact, the lunacy that sometimes occurred was never to be spoken of again.  They ordered whatever beverage made them happy and a buffet was arranged in case it had seemed too long since dinner.

Jelena was noticeably absent.  She was working the door again, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘thank you so much for attending.’  Jelena also thought her son would feel more comfortable with the young ladies if his mother were not within sight.

Linvin had already consumed his share of wine and decided to switch to brandy in an effort to slow his consumption.   Like his uncle, it was not a favorite drink of his but the glass gave him something to do with his hands so he did not seem so anxious.

Linvin took his seat and the women flocked around him, like pigeons to breadcrumbs.  The young ladies sat tall in a proper pose.  Coaching the girls from behind were their mothers.  Linvin could not help but wonder if the supervision was for their daughter’s benefit or his.  The males of the respective families were busy smoking and drinking themselves into embarrassment.

It suddenly occurred to Linvin as the ladies formed a circle about him that he could think of nothing to say.  The entire group waited for him to speak.  In his nervousness he fell back on flattery.

“You are all simply marvelous dancers,” he commented, “Your grace and poise made my clumsiness so much less noticeable.  I thank you.”

“Oh you danced divinely,” one admirer said.  A chorus of agreement followed.

“I have taken dance lessons since I was five,” one interjected.

“Well I have taken them since I could walk!” blurted out another.  Credentials began to fly around like bids at an auction.

Linvin raised his hands to silence the competition.  “I was hoping to learn a little more about you ladies.  Perhaps if we just went around and you told me your names and a few things about yourselves.”  It seemed to Linvin that he had come up with an orderly plan.  He did not realize that it would be the last opportunity for him to speak for some time.

Each young lady took full advantage of the center stage and told him the lengthy details of her life and ambitions.  Some statements were intriguing, others were revealing and a few were ones he was thankful his mother did not hear.  Still, the vast majority of the statements sounded exactly like the woman who had just spoken.  Linvin felt himself caring less and less about what he was beginning to view as predators looking for a kill.