Sale

In keeping with Cyber Monday, my first 2 books will be available for download at Amazon.com for .99 each.  Here are the links.  "Quest for the Red Sapphire" is http://amzn.to/1npYd0S  "Sapphire Crucible" is http://amzn.to/1lGfOVN .  If you ever wanted to get into this epic story from the start, now is the time to do it.  They are each an exciting story which is hard to put down.  Get your copies Monday!

Spotlight

The folks at Snuggle Books have honored me with a spotlight on their site.  Check it out here http://wp.me/p4tOHs-1nx  It is a really nice piece.

Opening Early on Thanksgiving

What has happened to the holidays?  Specifically, what has happened to Thanksgiving?  I decided to check the dictionary before I wrote this piece to make sure I actually knew what a holiday was.  Here are my findings.  Webster’s New World College Dictionary says a Holiday is “a day of freedom from labor; day set aside for leisure and recreation.”  The American Heritage Dictionary defines it as, “A day free from work that one may spend at leisure, especially a day on which custom or the law dictates a halting of general business activity to commemorate or celebrate a particular event.”  Ok, I have my facts straight.  Let’s use some logic here.  If Thanksgiving is a holiday, and all business is supposed to be halted on holidays, then why are so many darn businesses open on Thanksgiving?  They can’t give their staff one day off?  I am fortunate enough to work for people who are closed on Thanksgiving but every year I see more and more businesses opening their doors on Thanksgiving.  People tell me they are going to boycott the Thanksgiving Day Sales but that can’t be true of many people because the stores are getting bolder and bolder in their strides into Thanksgiving; opening earlier and earlier.  I believe in their hearts people sympathize with the minimum wage workers having their turkey day ruined but the sales put out there are so compelling that they cannot help but go shopping.  The fact of the matter is retail is in a serious battle for existence with the internet.  Brick and mortar stores are trying anything to survive.  If that means they ruin Thanksgiving for their entire staff, they are willing to live with that in order to compete.  All of those easy one line sales are taking jobs from people in retail stores.  I can see their point of view.  I don’t happen to like or agree with it but I see what their trying to do.  The question I raise is whether the net result of the sales is really that much better when it is spread out that when everything opened early on Friday morning?  Are the same dollars just spread over more days?  I wonder.  Clearly stores think there’s some advantage to it as I don’t see the Thanksgiving Day trend going away any time soon.  Just think, it wasn’t so long ago that I felt for the gas station attendants as the only people working on the holiday.  Times change quickly these days.  What a pity.  So much for sitting down with the family and giving thanks…not when there’s a door crasher at Wal-Mart you have to have.

 

 

Tuesday Excerpt, "New"

 

It was a solid two-day ride to the city of Linvin’s birth. At

sundown on the second day, he led his horse up the red-brick road

on the most affluent hill in the great city of Fraylic. The bricks

ended at the top where Grithinshield Manor resided.

Residents gleefully greeted him. Linvin could not help but

wonder if they respected his power, money, prestige or simply

him. His many attributes made choosing the sincere people from

the insincere ones a challenge. In the end, the answer was of no

consequence. The neighbors were happy to see him return as he

did every month or two, and their happiness was contagious.

Linvin had issues with allowing anyone to become close to him.

He yearned to simply be Linvin and not Linvin of the House of

Grithinshield. Too many fake smiles and hushed tones abounded

his appearances. His loneness made him yearn for a companion

who was oblivious to his position.

At the end of the road, Grithinshield Manor covered the entire

hilltop. The mansion was purchased by his father and expanded by

his mother to become the center for society. Such trappings were

lost on Linvin. Public displays of affluence garnered no love from

him. Parties and receptions were more like political and business

meetings with finer accommodations. Staying in character, Linvin

had turned society on its ear during his last visit by hosting a lavish

feast for the homeless and hungry that were often overlooked by

the vast majority of the affluent city.

The great bronze gate Dirk Grithinshield had acquired long

67

before the manor was built still stood in all its glory where the side

fences connected. A young boy in formal attire rushed to take the

reins of Linvin’s horse.

“Lord Grithinshield,” the boy said with excitement, “it’s

wonderful to have you back.”

“Thank you,” Linvin acknowledged as he stepped down from

his steed. He removed his riding gloves and handed them to the

boy. “See that my bags are taken to my room and the horse is

properly housed.” Then he swung the gate open with the

unmistakable sound of metal on metal. Walking up the stone path,

he reached the double doors which opened just before he could

step up to them.

An elderly gentleman wearing the finest servant’s attire ever

seen was there to greet him. “Master Linvin. I trust your journey

was a safe one?”

Linvin smiled like a little boy as he viewed the master of his

house and the man who practically raised him as a child. He

attempted to shake the man’s hand but found himself changing in

mid-motion into a full-fledged hug. “It is good to see you, Theisen.

There is something about seeing you that makes me think Home.”

Theisen patted Linvin formally on the back and politely moved

him away. “Thank you, Master Linvin. And may I say there is

something about you that makes me think Bath. Shall I have one

drawn for you? The road has left you in need of a good scrubbing.”

“My bones ache from the journey,” Linvin responded. “A warm

bath would be splendid. While I wait, I had hoped to see my uncle.

Has he arrived?”

“Lord Greenlith is on the back porch enjoying the sunset with a

full pipe and pot of tea,” Theisen said as he led his master inside

the marble floored palace.

Linvin removed his cloak and handed it to Theisen. “Fine. Have

my pipe brought to the porch.” Linvin walked through the house

68

and stepped onto the wraparound porch adorned by pairs of

rockers every few paces with serving tables between.

In a rocker near the door sat an old elf of unremarkable size

puffing a long pipe. His hair was that cross of silver and gray,

which proved to be so difficult to determine. A slowly sloping

beard extended from his face past his stomach. His stature was

small even by elf standards. The elf’s grand blue eyes were

captivated by the sunset over the city as seen through the orchards

in the back yard and did not notice Linvin’s entrance.

Aunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

The sun had scarcely moved in the sky when the party broke camp. As they saddled their horses, loud conversations could be heard above them coming closer. Linvin ordered everyone up against the interior of the bridge. He held his finger to his lips to order the group to remain quiet. Then he crawled up the embankment until he could just barely see the road.

Emerging from the forest on the nearside of the bridge was a band of goblins in uniform. Taking a quick guess of their number, he slid down the slope and joined the others. He whispered. “There is a Goblin Patrol coming this way. We must remain silent until they have passed.” His party nodded in unison and did their best to calm the animals.

The shuffling of goblin boots was unmistakable as it drew near. Soon the incoherent voices became clear as the troop reached the bridgehead. “This is ridiculous,” cried a voice from above. Several others joined in a sentiment of agreement. “What are we doing here?” the voice continued. “We were supposed to be on rest period for nearly half a day. Instead, we are dragged out of our billet and sent to guard an insignificant bridge little more than a stone’s throw away.”

Another voice barked at the first. “You read the orders the rider delivered during the night. They came directly from General Tecious. There are four escaped elves and one female human everyone is hunting. We are to guard this bridge and then send up a signal if we spy them.”

“Why won’t they let us fight?” demanded the first voice. “We have a full platoon here short of our Sergeant who is likely still sleeping.”

“I will tell you why, Private,” the second voice responded forcefully. “Whoever the escaped prisoners are have burned half of Marinhalk and evaded the largest manhunt in history. The General’s orders were specific. We are not to engage them if we see them. As for the Sergeant, someone had to stay at the supply depot in case another messenger arrived while we were away. He delegated guarding the bridge to us and the depot to himself. If you are unhappy with his orders, he is just behind those trees at the base. You can see what he thinks of your opinion.”

For a time there was only the sound of the rushing water to fill the air. The first voice sounded humble as it spoke. “There is no need to bother the Sergeant,” the voice said meekly. “I just don’t understand why we can’t fight prisoners if we find them. We are trained as soldiers, Corporal. Why will they not let us fight?”

The corporal’s voice became ever more firm. “You said it yourself. You are a soldier. It is not your place to question orders. Another word from you and I’ll gladly give you ten lashes by my own hand. As for the prisoners, we’ll never see them. This is a minor bridge in a rural county. The General is being thorough as usual. You just wanted to sleep. Well there will be none of that when we are on guard.”

Linvin smiled as an idea came to mind. Oh yes you will, he thought as he pulled the staff forth. Placing one hand on either side, he rolled it back and forth between them rapidly. The Red Sapphire began to glow and a magical mist began to be released upward. A red fog moved quickly and with stealth. No sooner had it reached the top of the bridge than the sound of bodies falling to the ground filled the air. It sounded as if twenty suits of armor were dropped on the ground simultaneously.

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

“It is safe, Anvar.  You can come out of the corner.”  In the far corner of the deck, between a chimney and wall, came the sight of a small orange light.  After having puffed his pipe, Anvar exited the shadows and walked over to his nephew.  He leaned on the rail as Linvin was doing.

“However did you know I was there?” asked Anvar.

“Please Uncle.  I could smell your apple-flavored tobacco the moment I stepped onto this deck.”

Anvar looked at Linvin’s glass of brandy, which lay largely untouched.  “I see you have the same love of fine brandy that I do,” Anvar said with a laugh.  Then he turned to the bartender.  “Do you have that item I gave you to store?”

“Of course,” replied the bartender as he bent behind the bar and produced a small keg of elven ale.

“I think you have earned a reward, my boy.” 

Linvin dumped his brandy over the rail and said, “I could not agree more.”

Anvar had been prepared for this eventuality.  At his command, the bartender produced two massive steins and filled them with ale.  “Will there be anything else, sirs?”

“No, thank you,” Anvar replied as he handed some coins to the man.  “Just leave the keg out for us.”

“Very good, sir,” replied the servant before going downstairs to help with the aftermath of the party.

Anvar and Linvin each took up a rocker and drank their ale.  Before long, Linvin had his pipe out as well.

“Mother was right about the view up here.  You can see the entire city.”

“Speaking of views,” Anvar chided, “You had quite the nice view of young ladies out here.”

“Do not remind me,” Linvin said as he rocked.  “I felt like the prize whore in a brothel.  Could you hear what they were saying from over there?”

“Sadly, no,” replied Anvar.  “The acoustics were not very favorable in the corner.”

“In that case,” Linvin laughed, “I envy you.  They were all like trained pets following their mothers’ orders.  Everything they said sounded like, ‘I love children.  I hope to have several.  In fact, boys run in my family.  It is not my place to question my husband’s authority.  He is lord of the house and his word goes.  The only reward I seek in life is to make my husband happy and did I mention how much I love children?’  And this was not simply one person’s answer.  They all said the exact same thing!  Sometimes they would change the order a bit but they all were the same.  It was all I could take not to scream!”

“Well,” laughed Anvar, “Those all sound like fine qualities in a wife.”

“Oh, puh-lease!” barked Linvin, “Those are fine qualities in a dog!  The answers were as phony as the ones I gave this evening, only less convincing.  If they were really telling the truth, then why would I want a wife like that anyway?  They sounded like servants.  I do not want a wife like that and truthfully, until my mother made it apriority, I had no urgent desire to attain a wife.”

Losing Old Friends

Everybody has them; those old friends that are bad influences.  For some reason they seem to stay around longer than the good friends.  They sometimes get in the way of good times and are always there for the bad times.  These are the hardest friends to sever ties with because they’ve been through so much with you that you feel like you need them around.  Often times you need someone on the outside to tell you to dump that friend and that person is often a doctor.  That’s right, a doctor.  The first of my friends he told me had to go was nicotine.  Ah the great times we had together.  While nicotine was not in my life for a relatively long time, it was sweet while it lasted.  But it came with a price.  I was sick a lot with repertory issues and woke up most mornings feeling like my chest was going to crush itself.  Aside from that, nicotine was really bossy and I didn’t like that.  The doctor and my wife forced me to kick my old friend to the curb.  It was a sad day.  The hurt stayed with me for a long time as one of my hands no longer seemed to have a use.  After a while I forgot about it and moved on.  Then I was blindsided with a new request.  I was put on some permanent medication that didn’t mix well with alcohol.  So the doctor told me to give up alcohol entirely.  Hold the phone!  I’m a mix of Irish and German.  I tell people that means I can hold my beer and I don’t care what you think about it!  Now I have to give it up completely as well as all other spirits?  This was too much.  This friend and I had been through everything together.  I was never a heavy drinker (I know everyone says that) but this was asking too much.  With every visit to the doctor he would ask if I was still drinking and I would tell the truth.  Then came the lecture and the guilt trip.  It explained why the medicine wasn’t helping.  So I bit the bullet and cast alcohol aside.  It’s amazing how people judge you when you go to an event where everyone’s drinking except you.  They get very rude and don’t talk to you.  I now say I’m the designated driver although they still ask me if my license is suspended for DUI.  I miss having a beer with people.  The fake stuff tastes awful.  Now the doctor tells me I have to give up caffeine.  Come on!  You’ve got to be kidding me.  This friend has been with me since childhood.  He’s helped me study for tests in school.  He’s made me alert for the drive to work.  This is practically family.  For this one all I can say is I’m trying.  I still have 2 12-packs of Diet Pepsi in the garage to drink.  I plan to get caffeine free once it is gone.  This will be a tough good-bye.  After this all I have left is red meat and the doctor’s going to have a fight on his hands for that one.  Man, it is hard dumping these old friends.       

Tuesday Excerpt, "New"

He wiped his hands and lit a lamp. With the room illuminated,

he saw what was left of the would-be assassin. Five’s body was

completely smashed. The blood-soaked clothes revealed nothing of

value. In the satchel Linvin found the rope and hook, a money

purse and a leather folder.

He opened the folder first. There were many written pages. He

sat down with his pipe and read. It was a journal. The writings

chronicled his movements since his arrival in Missandor.

Five had been careful not to make any note referring to his

employer in the journal. Indeed, it seemed to Linvin that the

purpose of the notes was to have them read by the employer after

the assassination. It was a briefing on how the plan was carried

out.

According to the entries, Five had come to Missandor the

previous day. He spied on Linvin and recorded his movements.

Five even wore a disguise and shopped the GTC while Linvin was

working. He did not strike there because of the number of

witnesses and what he called a low probability of success.

The assassin did not stay at an inn because he wanted to be sure

he did not leave a trace of his presence. He chose the beggar

disguise because it enabled him to survey Linvin’s tree from close

range and watch his every move.

Linvin sat the journal down and gnawed on his pipe. He puffed

a few times before returning the writings to the bag and retrieving

the money purse. It was full of gold. Upon examining the coins, he

was disappointed to see that they bore no markings of any kind.

Though coinage was minted in universal denominations

throughout the civilized world, each nation branded them with

their own emblem. Even if the markings were foreign, gold was

accepted worldwide as a form of payment.

The coins in that purse were specifically made without any

identification at all. Closer inspection showed that they had been

conditioned to look as though they were old so that no one would

inquire about their lack of marking.

Linvin knew such coins would be expensive to make and would

have to have been custom-crafted for Five. Great pains were taken

to ensure the person seeking Linvin’s head remained anonymous.

That person was obviously more concerned with Linvin’s death

than what it would cost.

Five was a professional assassin. He was not attempting murder

for the first time. It seemed to Linvin that he had killed before for

profit.

Linvin set the purse down and walked over to the body. At his

feet, he saw the crossbow. He retrieved it and examined it like a

merchant inspecting a possible purchase. Once again, he found no

revealing details.

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

Never had a room containing so many people been so silent. Linvin’s heart raced as he approached the chest. The organ’s beating was so loud he believed everyone in the room could hear the sound. His steps were short but purposeful. At last he was close enough to touch the chest. The unfamiliar carvings on the box were beautiful in their mystery. They had not been chiseled in the stone. What he presumed to be letters or words had been burned into the rock with such precision the stone around them had been unchanged.

Peering at the throne he saw both Mandrean and Necromancer leaning forward in their seats, awaiting the outcome of Linvin’s effort. The image angered the great warrior but his temper was held in check as he looked back and saw the dire position of his uncle. Feeling the most helpless he had been in his life, Linvin reluctantly inserted the key into the keyhole of the right side of the chest. It fit perfectly. He turned the key and the lock made a grinding sound as it moved to the open position. Linvin took a deep breath and opened the lid.

The compartment inside held a fine red powder. Linvin’s curiosity outweighed his desire for caution. He placed his finger in the sand-like powder and felt for anything solid. When his skin touched it, the dust began to glow. The crimson light intensified with such speed that Linvin was forced to shield his eyes. Then the aura filled the room and made it impossible for anyone to see. An immeasurable vortex of wind emanated from the chest and blew like a tornado through the room. All the furniture was caught in the wind and the people clung to the ground or anything the air could not lift.

Only Linvin stood unaffected by the storm. He looked at the chaos around him and then back at the chest. The powder in the compartment was gone. Lifting his eyes to the red storm around him, he felt no fear. It was not bravery or ignorance that inspired his calmness. Something about what was happening simply felt right to him. He marveled at the majesty before his eyes and never even stopped to consider why the wind did not so much as ruffle his shirt.

A deep, resonating voice reaching deafening tones echoed through the room. “I am the Red Sapphire, dislodged from the Prism of the Cosmos after the great Diffusion of Magic. My purpose is to prove that one person with great ability can make a great difference. Through the Path of the Red Sapphire I will give fantastic power to this person. It will be his charge to use the power to do the greatest good. My Master and I shall once again prove one can stand against many, that evil is not stronger than righteousness and my power in the right hands can change the course of history.

“My power is meant to fight for those who cannot do so. We shall prove a single person can save many and tyranny and oppression will not be allowed to go unchecked. Through me, one person can create positive change. That person must be true of heart and character. Their own skills must compliment my power. I knew from the day he entered the world my next master would be Linvin Grithinshield. I am to serve him until his death and no other. Together we shall perform works greater than any seen in this age. We will make the difference no one else can make. Linvin, hold out your hands with the palms up and together.”

The vortex centered over his hands and contracted at a rate equal to that at which it had grown. In a matter of moments the spectacle was over and Linvin held the grandest gem he could ever have imagined.

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

He stood by the window with a snifter of brandy.  Swirling the container of precious liquor in his hand, he called out, “Jelena, could I at least have some ale instead of this lamp oil you’ve served me?”

“Anvar,” bellowed the woman, “This is an important occasion and I will not have it sullied by serving that swill you and Dirk took such delight in drinking. You are holding the finest brandy in the land.  Savor it and let me see to my tasks.”

Anvar inhaled the bouquet and then sipped in a conservative fashion.  His face wrinkled slightly.  “I honestly do not see why you are making such a fuss, Jelena.  After all, it’s just Linvin coming home.”

“Do you see him?” shouted Jelena as she ran to the window.

“No,” laughed Anvar.  “I was merely saying that this gala you have prepared seems rather…extravagant for Linvin’s tastes.  Would you not agree, sister?”

Jelena stormed over to Anvar.  “Having been through this past year with me, I would think you of all people would see a need for celebration.  This house has been like a mausoleum since Dirk left.  I have one good thing left in this world and that is my son.  Is it so wrong to shout to the world that he is home?”

“It could be,” Anvar said before taking a larger drink from his glass.  “You know how I feel about this.  It is an unwise and unneeded risk.  One that may very well get us all killed.”

“The gala will have tight security, I assure you.”

Anvar came face-to-face with her and said with frustration, “You know that I do not speak of the gala.  Has time blinded you so that you do not see the impending danger?  The risks have not gone away, Jelena.  Bringing us together again and announcing it to the world will only compound those risks.”

“Dirk has been gone over a year and there is not the slightest hint of danger.  You are paranoid, dear brother.  Even if there was a danger, it died with Dirk.”

Anvar struck his forehead in disbelief.  “Dirk is not what they wanted!  They have just been biding their time.  How can you be so ignorant of the impending doom?”

“Because all I can see is my son!  He was practically stolen from me as a boy and sent halfway around the world to be raised by strangers.  My boy has lived more years away from me than with me and I want him back!  I want him home!”

“Even if it costs us all our lives?” Anvar asked as he held his weeping sister.

“I see him!” called a nearby servant.

Anvar and Jelena turned and saw Linvin at the end of the road, talking to Mrs. Harnbottom.

“What idle gossip is she filling my boy’s head with?  My word!  Never have I met a woman who spoke so much with so little to say.  I must press her for details tonight at the party.  Fortunately, I think her knowledge of our affairs is limited.”

“Listen to yourself, Jelena, your fears can be gone if you just tell Linvin the whole story.  The time will come sooner or later when he will need to know, and it would be better to come from you.”

Jelena composed herself and walked toward the foyer.  “I do not believe that day need ever come, Anvar.  The matter is closed.  Do you understand me? Closed!  If ever Linvin needs to know of what we speak, then I shall tell him.  It will come from no one else.  Is that clear, little brother?”

Anvar’s nostrils flared, but he showed no other outward sign of displeasure.  “I will respect your wishes, dear sister.  I only hope your dream of living in peace comes to fruition.”

The Reason for Verteran's Day

Well, it’s Veteran’s Day here in the USA.  Restaurants are having specials for current and former members of the armed forces and stores are having their crazy Veteran’s Day sales.  On television “Apocalypse Now” and “Saving Private Ryan” are running as if to give different points of view on warfare.  I may sound old fashioned here but something seems to be missing.  The commercialization of this holiday seems out of place.  As a child we would have assemblies at school and read, “In Flanders’s Field”.  Then we would have veterans talk about their experiences and we would all wear poppies.  Granted, I was in Canada at the time but I would expect a greater show of remembrance here in America.  I asked my daughter if they did anything at all in school today to honor Veteran’s Day and she said, “No but it is ‘Say no to drugs week’.”  There were no services or speeches.  A part of me just felt sad inside.  I looked forward to seeing those poppies as a child and yet I wonder if it was ever done over here.  This is a day to hold up our defenders and thank them for protecting us so we can go about our daily lives.  It is a day to remember the many who have fallen in pursuit of that task.  The military has touched nearly every family in the country including mine.  I think they deserve more than just a sale at Payless Shoes.     

Tuesday Excerpt, "New"

Lord Mandrean walked hurriedly down the illustrious halls of

Marinhalk. Four soldiers of his imperial guard marched in tow.

Though the emperor’s mind focused on the health of General

Gramlick, he could not help but notice the flamboyant decorative

uniform of one of his guards. Falling back into the middle of the

group he sneered and commented. “It has been nearly two weeks

since I gave you the title of Commander of the imperial guard,

Acreas. Do you not think it is time to return to your normal

uniform?”

Commander Acreas was in front of his master but could display

his fiendish grin without fear of retribution. “This is a dream I

have worked hard to fulfill. In only two years as a member of the

guard, I have risen to become its leader. While Your Eminence

was the one who gave me my insignia, it was only after I had

defeated all challengers in the jousting tournament. This rank was

earned. I should think you would be pleased. Clearly my superior

breeding has produced a finely honed weapon in your arsenal.”

Mandrean begrudged every word knowing that Acreas was his

illegitimate son through Betrimpia, his first of over one-hundred

concubines. Everyone knew the lineage to be true. The emperor

simply would not acknowledge the boy’s birthright publicly for his

own reasons. “I care nothing for your ‘breeding’.” Mandrean

fibbed. “Your mother is the most annoying, bull-headed woman I

have ever known. Since you were old enough to walk, you have

had the most prized tutors and instructors in the empire.

Considering nearly all of the senior guardsmen were lost in

Trader’s Alley, it would have been stunning if you had not won the

contest for leadership.

“I still recall the gloating expression on your mother’s face

when you were given this command. She had the cold, wicked

glare of someone who had won a bet and was going to let her

money ride. To an emperor with a new commander of the guard,

that was a worrisome look. The guard’s main purpose, after all, is

to protect me against all others. Is this so with you and your men?”

Acreas could see the distrust in the emperor’s face as he

glanced back. The entire situation was a game to the youngest man

ever to be commander of the guard. He viewed his father with

contempt and hatred. Acreas had no delusions that the man he

served was anywhere close to his intellectual equal. Thus, the

game continued.

“You have sent me to every battle since I joined the guard, and

the men trust me. They have sworn to follow my commands. In the

same way I have sworn to follow your orders, My Emperor.”

Acreas nodded his head with the statement.

Mandrean’s temper raged as he spun his commander around by

the shoulder and held the Blue Sapphire before his eyes. “Do not

toy with me, Child. I could destroy you with a single movement.

There is a voice in my head saying that would be wise. So test my

patience no further. Is everyone in the guard sworn to obey and

protect me?”

Acreas knew his father’s temper and unpredictability and

decided to end the game for now. He bowed in a humble manner

and gestured to the other guards to follow suit. “Fear not, My lord.

We have all sworn to live and die by your word.”

Mandrean’s nostrils flared as his anger continued to quell.

“Before we reconvene in the throne room, I want you in your

normal uniform, commander. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” Acreas answered. They resumed their journey

down the hall.

Sunday Excerpt "Crucible"

Necromancer saw his opportunity and re-entered the conversation. “Perhaps I can be of assistance, My Master,” he said in a humble tone. “You may recall I still hold dominion over many powerful beasts of this world. Several of them roam the Sorrowful Sea. With a single thought I could order them to patrol the north shore looking for those who humiliated your Highness. Not only will they instantly notify me of a sighting, they can also prevent Linvin’s troop from crossing the lake. They are older than time itself and are unaffected by magic. Linvin will be checked until your arrival.”

“My arrival?’ Mandrean repeated in surprise. “My armies will close in and finish this troublemaker. That will be his fate. He will be trapped between the sea and my troops. Then he will die.”

Necromancer began to circle his master’s throne ominously. “So after all he has done to you and the Empire, you will not take the glory of killing the usurper for yourself? You would rather leave it for some brainless goblin on the giving end of a lucky strike? In the meantime, how many soldiers do you think he will annihilate? My guess is at least two Divisions. Say goodbye to Romadon any time in the future.”

“Not to mention the point of killing Grithinshield was to save face on your part. Dispatching armies to deal with one man will be seen as killing a fly by dropping a wall upon it. To gain any credibility, you must be the one who drives his blade through the impudent scum.”

“Stirring words,” Mandrean said in jest. “You would like me to fight Linvin one on one, wouldn’t you? It would give you great pleasure to see me fall.”

“You preclude that Grithinshield will be victorious. My Master is a far better warrior than he concedes.”

“If anyone should hunt him down and kill him it should be you, Necromancer. You alone have the magic to defeat him.”

“My Lord,” Necromancer said as he returned to his placating voice. “My vanquishing Grithinshield will not redeem your honor. After all, of everything that was destroyed today, your reputation is the most devastating on the list. Think of it. Death was just a hand’s reach away when Linvin held you hostage. Had you not accidentally slipped when you did, we might very well not be holding this conversation. He led you to the door like a dog. The Emperor I serve would never let that go unpunished. Nor would his predecessors. The Emperor I serve would chase down the vermin and kill him like a dog.”

The words moved Mandrean, but common sense prevailed. “Even if I were to confront Linvin individually, he would turn me to ashes with the Red Sapphire. I cannot compete with its power.”

Necromancer walked behind the throne so Mandrean would not see his visible frustration. Then he paused and thought. In a moment he addressed the Emperor again. “Let us say, for just a moment, the Red Sapphire was not an issue. Would you have any reluctance to confront Linvin then? Or would you still be afraid of the man who was your prisoner only this morning?”

Mandrean’s ego kicked up to another level. “He would be no match for me in combat without the stone. If he did not have it I would gut him like a fish.”

Necromancer smiled. He folded his arms behind his back and hovered into the center of the room. “Your skills are definitely formidable. He is clearly not your equal. So if you had power equal to the Red Sapphire you would have no reluctance to battle Linvin in individual combat?”

Saturday Excerpt "Quest"

“I have returned, Your Highness,” Linvin said as he lowered his head.

King Hardurian put his quaking hand gently under Linvin’s chin and raised it so that the two could look one another in the eye.  “This is one day that I should be bowing to you, my young friend. 

Arise, Linvin, defender of Valia, and be recognized.”

Deep in his soul, Linvin relished in the praise, but his heart was heavy and he could not enjoy the fruits of his labors.

“We had not expected you so soon,” King Hardurian said.  “Word only just reached us of your victory.”

“There will be a celebration in your honor this evening,” an adviser said, while slapping Linvin on the shoulder.

“We are commissioning a statue of you to be chiseled of marble and set in the town square,” another said with a laugh.

“An etching in the Triumphal Arch will be carved.”

“Of course, there will be a victory parade once your men arrive, to celebrate your amazing wins.”

Such adoration would make many men feel pride and happiness, but for Linvin, each statement made him feel worse and worse.  He had resigned to hold his tongue until he was alone with the king.  However, at the utterance of the last sentence, rage welled within him and he could be quiet no longer.

“My men?” he asked.  “Three days ago, I commanded the combined armies of Valia.  Nearly 9000 soldiers marched into that swamp under my orders.  I marched out with little more than a tenth of that number.  Of those who live, perhaps as little as half will ever fight again, and for all that, you want to make a statue of me?  You want a parade?  You speak of glorifying me but in fact you are celebrating not having to be held accountable for your wrongdoings.”

The room was silent.  Laughter had been replaced by shock.  “How dare you come in here and say such things to those who would pay you homage,” snorted one of the noblemen.  “The people in this room are the most powerful men in this country and yet you speak to us like children!”

“I did not seek to treat you as children,” Linvin said firmly.  “For even children have more sense than you have shown over these years.”

The men were most indignant, though the king simply sat on his throne and tapped his finger on his lips.  He looked like one who was watching a play to its conclusion.

A Tree In Every Yard

Ah.  Fall has come to Nebraska.  I must always remind people that there are many more trees in this part of the state than most people think.  As I look out my window I see nature’s majesty in the leaves on the trees and the ground below. The foliage is pained in hues of sun fire yellow, Macintosh Red and a blush of orange.  To just take in the beauty as it sways in the autumn wind is a sight to behold.  It reminds me of living back in Michigan where there were many more trees.  There we would load the kids in the car and go driving in the woods.  When we stopped, the children would collect the prettiest leaves to keep.  We would place them in books to keep them straight and preserve them, just as my mother had taught me.  As a child growing up in Port Huron, MI we had a wood in our back yard.   My mother would take me for walks in the fall and I would collect leaves.  I would pretend I was Winnie-the-Pooh on an adventure with Christopher Robbin in the Hundred Acre Wood.  The prettiest leaves I gave to her as gifts.  After a good walk we would return with our haul and place them between the pages of books.  Sometimes we would look at old ones from years before and marvel at how wonderful they looked.  My mother continued the practice with my own children years later.  It’s sad now that I think about it.  After both my parents passed away all those books were thrown in a dumpster.  Perhaps it wasn’t the leaves that were so important but the memories of collecting them.  Those were special times and I cherish them in my heart.  It is because of my mother that I went leaf collecting with my children.  Now I sit in my subdivision where everyone has at least one tree…except for me.  That’s right.  I still have not procured a tree.  As I have stated before in my blog, trees I buy always seem to die.  I get advice from the tree guy.  I read up on the different trees.  Yet once I have one planted, it always seems to die.  I see sale after sale go by during the year and think about it but can’t bring myself to pull the trigger.  So the only leaves I get are the ones that blow into my yard.  I look at them, all dried and colorless and feel saddened.  And so I sit and look out my window at the beautiful leaves in my neighbor’s yards and remember going on those adventures with my mom and my kids.   

Tuesday Excerpt, "New"

With darkness having overtaken the light for control of the sky,

Linvin galloped to the door of his uncle. He had not yet stepped

down from the saddle when he noticed the holes in the roof of the

domicile. Linvin pulled the staff from his back and rapidly

dismounted. Rushing to the front door, he found it ajar. With a

strong kick, he cast it open and leapt into the room.

The inside was destroyed with walls and furnishings splintered

and strewn about. It was dark save for a globe of glowing magic in

the middle of the room that was nearly as big as Linvin. He

approached and viewed the sphere. It was completely transparent.

“Anvar!” he called. “Anvar, are you here?”

The sphere responded in Necromancer’s voice. “Touch the orb

and you will have the answers you seek.” Though Necromancer

was the last person Linvin would trust, his combination of fear and

curiosity compelled him to follow the directions.

When his skin made contact with the magic, he was instantly

standing in the Mandrean Throne Room. No one was there other

than Necromancer. Linvin drew on his power and glowed furiously

with his red aura.

Necromancer sneered. “There is no need for that here,

Grithinshield. You are inside the globe and none of this is real. It is

an illusion to make a point clear to your primitive mind. I am not

here, but I was at your uncle’s home. We…had words. He is now

our guest in Marinhalk. That leads me to my next point. There is

someone with a very important message for you.” He vanished like

sand caught in the wind. In his place appeared Lord Mandrean the

Thirteenth with Anvar bloodied in his magical prison at his feet.

Linvin’s first thought was one of fury. Then he remembered

himself and stood tall. “How are you alive?” Linvin asked. “I

killed you two years ago.”

Mandrean smiled as he folded his arms. “You nearly did but

Necromancer was good enough to save me. It seems you do not

finish your work as well as you think. From your appearance, I

would say my assassins were unsuccessful at ending your life.

Apparently I do not finish my work well, either. That is about to

change. As it turns out, you being alive right now is that much

better for me.

“You are an expensive adversary, Linvin. You kill my best

assassins, killed legions of my soldiers, soiled my palace and

burned half of my capital. The time has come for you to pay for

your insults.”

“And you have killed my father and mother,” Linvin yelled as

his anger swelled at the sight of the sad state of his uncle. “You

tried to kill me, my cousins and Anvar. Now you have taken Anvar

prisoner? Let us fight now. I will not leave your death to chance

this time around.”

“All in good time,” Mandrean answered with a grin. “You see, I

needed something to make my magic your equal. It was your

magical advantage alone that allowed you to prevail over me in the

valley.” He held the rod with the blue sapphire sparkling at its tip

in one hand and the staff in the other. “It seems your uncle had

been hiding the staff all this time so that I might not have the

power I deserve. One of you will pay for that and the other crimes

against me. Now that my power is complete, I will face you and

destroy you. I will do so in this room you see projected before you

so my subjects will see that I am indeed the better man.

“When this message ends you will find a golden tablet with

writings carved into its surface you cannot comprehend. It is a

guarantee of safe passage anywhere in my empire. Take it and

proceed with all haste to Marinhalk. Since you took so long to

reach me last time, I shall even give you a longer period to arrive.

Here in the north, the frost will soon leave the ground. If you do

not present yourself to me in this room before the frost returns, I

will fillet your uncle like a fish. If you dare to come, then I will

spare your uncle and let him go. You will take his place. His blood

is in your hands now, Linvin. Come take your punishment or he

will take it for you. But don’t make me wait too long. I am not

known for my patience.”

With a blinding flash, Linvin stood in the darkness of Anvar’s

shattered home with a gold bar at his feet. Linvin bent down and

lifted the tablet. Tears rolled down his face as he realized that his

actions were causing his uncle to suffer. Pulling himself together,

he ran to his horse and raced for his manor by the moonlight.

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

I recall no message from you, Linvin thought. The idea just came into my mind.

Yes, Master, the Red Sapphire noted. It was I who gave you the idea. I knew you wanted to enter the building unnoticed and so I implanted the concept.

Then you can control my mind? Linvin asked in distress.

Not at all, Master. I can only give suggestions. Remember, I serve you. Once you have learned the full breadth of your power, you will need no advice from me.” Well then, Linvin thought. Tell me everything about you and how to use your power.

The expanse of knowledge you will receive may be too much for you to comprehend at one time. For that reason I will tell you what you need to know for now. I see from reading your mind that you have bits and pieces of history, which do not all fit into place. Let me start there.

What your Uncle said was true about the Maker giving too much magic to too few people. The world fell into chaos in its infancy. It was then the Maker crafted the Prism of the Cosmos. He used it to disperse magic into its various colors and among a variety of people. In order to prevent any one magician from becoming too powerful he made his or her bodies the channeling device for magic. That power we call magic is in nature all around us. To harness that power a magician must channel it through his body and release it from his hands. Doing so is very taxing of frail humanoid bodies. Thus, the more power the magician channels, the more fatigued he or she becomes. The limits of the magician’s mortality are the limits of their power. It is also the reason a magician with his hands bound is powerless. They cannot disperse the magic they channel without free use of their hands.

After the Maker was finished with the Dissemination of Magic he was ridiculed by the Dark Lord. The Evil One accused him of being too generous with his gifts to his creations. The Maker countered that all of those he had made were given free will. Any additional gifts they were given would be used at the discretion of the recipient. The Dark Lord further insulted the Maker’s creations. He said that they were inherently evil and would show that he was right if magicians did not have the limits placed upon them for using their power.

The Maker knew the Dark One was trying to manipulate him into removing the restrictions and would not change his children. Instead he challenged the Dark Lord. From each end of the sapphire Prism he would dislodge one piece in the form of a magic gem. One he would let the Dark Lord give whatever mandate he wished to and the other he would inscribe with his desires for the world. Both would be sapphires of equal power. The unique part about them would be that the gems would choose the masters who could best carry out their mission.

The Maker took the stone from the red end of the prism. He gave me my mandate. The Dark Lord was given a Blue Sapphire. Into it he instilled his hatred of all life and desire for ultimate power. If the Dark Lord could not rule the Cosmos, he felt perhaps his influence could in part allow him to rule this world.

Linvin was stunned. Is there a Blue Sapphire with just as much power as you? he asked.