Character Profile: Necrmancer

Today we continue to go through the cast of characters in my new book, “Repercussions Abound.”  We’ve seen the protagonist (Linvin) and the antagonist (Mandrean) along with Linvin’s uncle Anvar.  Today we look at Mandrean’s Court Magician, Necromancer.  He is diminutive in stature.  His skin barely clings to his frail looking bones which he tries hard to conceal.  He hovers off the ground and usually draws up his legs under his robe in order to hide his decrepit nature.  His arms are little different.  They are short and boney.  He hides them in the long sleeves of his robe.  As for the garment itself, he has multiple copies for the same robe.  It is white silk with crimson edging on the sleeves and the rest of the edges.  The picture I have painted so far is of a not very intimidating individual, but nothing could be further from the truth.  Necromancer has burning` coals for eyes and is the most powerful character in the book.  He easily surpasses the power of Linvin and Mandrean.  He is always scheming in spite of all the binding promises he has made to Mandrean and his ancestors.  Necromancer has waited years and finally he is down to the last Mandrean who has to die.  Once Lord Mandrean the XIII is dead, Necromancer is free to leave his servitude.  The problems he had are that he can’t disobey Mandrean and he cannot help Linvin.  Necromancer is pure evil.  He makes Mandrean seem tolerant.  With his plans and his evil nature there is no telling what will happen in the future.   

Character Profile: Anvar

My character profile for my new book, “Repercussions Abound” stops today to discuss perhaps the most beloved character in the series; Anvar Greenlith.  He is Linvin’s uncle on his mother’s side and the closest thing he has had to a father for many years.  When Linvin was studying and then in the army in Valia, only Anvar came to visit him.  Years later, when Linvin came home, Anvar helped him assimilate to his new role as the head of the Grithinshield Trading Company.  Anvar guided him in his search for the Red Sapphire and taught him the basics of magic so he might use it.  As an Orange Magician, Anvar is powerful in his own right in spite of his advanced age and diminutive stature.  He killed his share of goblins and destroyed half of the Mandrean capital of Marinhalk.  Now Anvar has been kidnapped by Mandrean’s evil savant Necromancer.  He was taken in the spring and Linvin was given an ultimatum.  Either Linvin surrenders himself for execution before the first frost in Marinhalk or Anvar will be killed.  It is late summer as the book begins and there is no sign of Linvin.  The reason for his absence?  He was struck on the head and has lost his memory.  Linvin believes his name is Argentoe and he is working on a farm in the territory.  There is no thought of Anvar or his plight.  Ever the optimist, Anvar continues to hold out hope, even in the face of the one person allowed to be in his company; Necromancer.  The two play chess every day and act like they are not adversaries.  Anvar is a terrific character.  He is the type of person you sit down and have a beer with.  Take the title of the book to heart, though.  This is a tough one to call.

Character Post, Mandrean

Continuing our look at the cast of my new book, “Repercussions Abound” we have looked at the protagonist.  Today we are going to look at the antagonist, Lord Mandrean the 13^th.   Mandrean has size on Linvin.  He is several inches taller and many inches wider.  He is a lazy person who relies on others for everything.  Mandrean has the mentality of a spoiled child.  Rather than accepting responsibility for his crumbling empire and initial loss to Linvin Grithinshield, he blames others and Linvin in particular.  He believes that defeating Linvin will restore the people’s faith in him and put all thought of revolution out of the air.  Never mind that the people are starving, the taxes and backbreaking and the road system has fallen apart.  Mandrean is convinced bringing Linvin to be executed in front of his subjects will put things back in order.  He wears a newly crafted Dwarven plate armor while he carries his family’s sword.  It is a long sword much longer than Linvin’s broadsword Falconfeather.  It has teeth on both sides of the blade pointed back at the hilt.  They serve several purposes.  In combat, opponent’s swords often get caught in the teeth and dislodged from their owner’s hands.  Furthermore, if the blade slashes an opponent it will tear either his armor or skin.  Finally, if the sword pierces an opponent, when it is withdrawn from the inside the teeth will mutilate the hole from within causing fatal damage.  As it is called in the books, it is a butcher’s weapon and not suitable of anyone with honor.  As devastating as the sword is, Falconfeather has certain advantages over it.  Its speed is far greater and its length is better suited to close quarters fighting.  The most important difference is the user.  Mandrean was once a great warrior, but time and corruption have robbed him of much of his abilities.  Even he fears an even fight with Linvin.  His mind, however, has lost none of its diabolical nature and he has plenty of puppets to do his bidding.

CHaracter post

Starting today I’m going to introduce you to all the characters of note in my latest book, “Repercussions Abound.”  Today we lead off with the most important character and protagonist in the book; Linvin Grithinshield.  He was twelve when his father learned that his son was meant to use the mighty Red Sapphire.  Linvin was sent away to train with Sedemihcra, the Master Trainer of Combat and Warfare.  When he came of age Linvin joined the Valian Army.  He moved up quickly with his knowledge of tactics and combat.  By his mid to later twenties Linvin was named Supreme Commander of all Valian forces.  Then a sudden message from his mother forced him to resign his commission and ride for home in haste.  Upon arriving he was told his father was missing and the family business needed Linvin’s guiding hand.   After setting the retail conglomerate on sound financial ground Linvin settled into his new life as a merchant.  It was to be short-lived.  Assassins killed his mother and were coming for Linvin.  He, his uncle Anvar and his cousins Bander and Rander had to flee and search out the mythical gem.  They found it and Linvin’s Life changed forever.  In finding it he made a bitter enemy of Lord Mandrean of the Mandrean Empire.  Seeking revenge, Mandrean kidnaps Anvar as bait to lure Linvin into a trap.  Knowing that’s what it is Linvin had no choice but to go anyway.  Along the way Linvin stops to help some helpless farmers being attacked by bandits only to be cracked on the head by a shovel.  When he awakes his memory is gone.  He loses the red sapphire and seeks to help the family set up their new farm.   Meanwhile Anvar waits in a prison cell for his nephew to come to his rescue.   Will Linvin have his memory restored in time?  Can he save Anvar even if he does?  It’s him and his experience against the empire.  The odds are not good.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Soon, a great half-elf male sleeping next to an average-sized human female was clearly nestled in the morning light. A butterfly drifted through the window and landed on the headboard just above the man. He woke as the sun hit his eyelids and struggled momentarily to find his bearings. When he spied the guest, he smiled. Carefully he lifted his forefinger to see if it would climb aboard. Sadly, the insect flapped its wings vigorously and left as it had entered.

He rolled toward the woman and propped his head up with his hand. She was a beauty if ever there was one lying by his side. Her soft, gently tanned skin took on a radiant aura in the morning sun. Long flowing locks of honey brown hair ran down her right side as she lay on her left, with her tranquil face pointed directly at him. Both her hands were under her cheek, but the left one betrayed the slightest glimpse of a ring matching the man’s.

He took his finger on his free hand and touched her knee. Then he slowly pulled it over the blanket and up the thigh. He passed her waist and skipped to the elbow of her nightgown. From there he slowly caressed her arm until he reached her neck. His fingers ever so gently slipped behind the head and held it firm. Then he moved in slowly and placed a tender kiss on her lips.

At first she was surprised and then kissed him back. Her hypnotic emerald green eyes immediately focused on his blue ones and held his gaze. “Good morning Argentoe, My Beloved. You seem full of vigor so early in the morning.”

Argentoe slid his arms under the covers and tickled her. “It is not morning yet, Corilon. The moon just happens to be particularly bright tonight.”

She laughed at the tickling and swatted him half-heartedly. “Sorry to bring you back to reality, but it is morning and there is hay to be harvested. The others will be waiting by the great house. We best not be late again.”

Argentoe used his great strength to pick her up and place her face to face on top of him. “They will have to wait, My Wife. You promised two months ago when we wed to obey me, and right now my command is that you spend some quality time, right now, in this bed with me.”

“Are you not still tired from last night? Besides, I never promised to obey you. That was never in the marriage vows. I checked.”

Argentoe was both actually surprised and overplaying it for fun. “I could have sworn it said…”

“Nope. Not once did it say anything about obeying. I wouldn’t have married you if it had.”

Argentoe mumbled something under his breath that even Corilon could not make out at her close range and then said, “Well, it was implied that you should obey me.”

Corilon wrapped her legs around her husband and pinched his cheek. “Oh, it was implied. Well, if we are going by those rules then there is some washing and mending of the clothes you can do for me. And then…”

December 7th

It’s sad how many people I talk to who don’t know the significance of December 7^th.  Many tell me it means there are only 17 more shopping days before Christmas.  My heart just sinks.  I may not have been born in the Greatest Generation, but I was taught the significance of this day well.  It is the anniversary of the sneak attack by Japan on the Hawaiian Islands and most notably Pearl Harbor.  When I point it out people they say, “Oh, the happened today?” or “What’s Pearl Harbor?”  When I hear this last question the ignorance bothers me and I tell them it was every bit as bad if not worse than the 911 bombings.  It dragged the United States into a war costing hundreds of thousands of American lives that could only be ended by dropping 2 nuclear bombs on Japan.  For the civilians and soldiers that died that day all that we can do is remember them.  Perhaps there’s a brief mention on the nightly news about the anniversary.  It is just sad when this day comes up and few remember it and fewer will remember in the future.

Tuesday Excerpt

At last Seven took to his feet again and was immediately confronted with Necromancer. The court magician did not say a word. He looked closely at Seven and then showed the slightest glimmer of a smile. Finally, he moved his face just across from Seven’s and said, “It would seem you have business to which you must attend. Get to it.” With that, he hovered toward the balcony as ordered.

Seven walked over to the bleeding mass that called itself Linvin and saw the guards still surrounding him. “All of you leave now,”

Seven told them. “I have this duty.”

An angry guard answered, “We will guard you. This fish is too slippery to be left alone. You may not be able to handle him.”

Seven knelt by the body and asked, “Do you know what it means to be a Mandrean Assassin?” In the time it took to snap one’s fingers, he threw a knife through the neck of the goblin who doubted him. Addressing the dying body he said, “It means I can kill anyone up to the rank of general and not have to give a reason. So if your friend over here annoys me…” He threw a knife with his other hand and again struck a goblin in the neck and dropped him in an instant. “…then I can kill him and not give a reason either. Does anyone else want to interrupt me or stay in my presence?” The other goblins ran for the great doors and took the guards there with them. Linvin and Seven were alone.

Going It Alone

For those who missed my blog appearance a couple of weeks ago, here was the piece I wrote.

Going It Alone

 

Let me tell you a story.  A young man (ok a teenager) came up with this idea for a short story.  As he worked out the details the story became longer and longer until it turned into a novella.  But the story was not finished.  Every idea like a snowball rolling down a mountain side just grew and added more to the storyline.  At last the young man looked down and saw he had a novel he could write with the potential of others to follow.  In the weeks that followed he carefully crafted the first chapter and presented it to his father, an editor by trade, for review.  The next morning over breakfast the Young Man asked his father what he thought of the first draft of the chapter.  His father sat down his coffee, slammed his fist on the table and proceeded to tear the papers in half and then into quarters.  When he was done he dropped the papers on the ground and left for work.  Heartbroken the boy fell to the ground and picked up the pieces and held them to his chest.  Being late for school he hid the papers in his room and ran out the door.  As he briskly walked to school he realized, My ideas are good but my writing isn’t good enough yet.  I must fix that.  He paid more attention in English class as they studied the great writers of the past.   But where he really excelled was in creative writing.  After working through some grammatical problems his stories were always top of the class.  In fact one was so good it was entered and won an Ontario Provincial Contest.  His success mounted in high school as he was asked to write numerous school plays.  Never, in all that time did he tell anyone outside his family about his books.  He had already finished the first one and was working on the second.  Then college came and there was little time for working on books.  So he thought about a different part of the series every night before bed.  He told one friend about them and let her read a few chapters.  She was astounded and said it should be published.  He was unprepared for ridicule again and refused to try.  After graduation he married his college sweetheart who had no interest in the books as long as it wasn’t an inconvenience.  They had 3 children together and finally bought a computer.  He began transferring his books onto it and printing copies for his one supporter to keep safe.  Through all the years, his mother loved to hear the stories over and over.  She said he had a “Gift.”  Little did he know when he gave her the chapters that she was loaning them out to her friends.  He built up quite a following as it turns out as the ladies bickered over who received a chapter next.  It was years later he found that out.  Many years came and went and his parents came to visit from far away.  She asked to go for a drive.  That was always a fun thing for the two of them to do.  As they drove she informed him that she had terminal cancer and that she would not be visiting again or be around much longer.  She said she wanted one favor from him.  He said to name it and she said, “Publish your books.”  When she got home she went straight into hospice and died a couple weeks later. 

                As you may have guessed, the main character of this story is me.  The time to go it alone was over.  I made a promise I would keep.  It took time but I found an agent who found me a publisher.  I now have 4 books in print with more to come as time permits.

                Going it alone is very dangerous.  It is hard to grow as a writer without constructive feedback.  It may be harsh but break it down to information you can use.  Going it alone also means that no one else sees your work.  Trust me, there is no better feeling than when someone comes up and says they loved your book.  Deep down you wrote it to be read.  It wants to be read.  Polish it up and find a publisher.  Do your homework and surround yourself with good people.  Don’t wait for the horrible wake-up call I did before acting.  What’s the worst that can happen?  You’re right back where you are, but you tried.

 

 

 

Black Holiday

Ah, Thanksgiving!  A day to relax or cook but either way, end the day enjoying your family.  It is a uniquely American holiday copied by the Canadians.  Then the sales started.  They were subtle when I was growing up.  There would be ads and sales.  There wasn’t much hype.  Then came Black Friday.  Suddenly every retailer was trying to outdo their competition.  There was nothing subtle about it.  We were bombarded with ads in the paper and on TV.  Soon the whole weekend was engulfed in the frenzy.  Enter the internet.  Shopping on line had grown as a percentage of sales every year.  Why?  Instead of running from store to store where something may be in stock and searching for it, you can sit in your pajamas and do your shopping with free shipping.  That meant there had to be a day for this.  Enter Cyber Monday.  Some companies have extended their sale to Tuesday in case you were busy.   Then the war started over who would open first for Black Friday.  It started in the morning around 5 or 6.  Then it moved back to midnight.  Finally Thanksgiving was desecrated.  Kmart was open all day.  Walmart and a host of others start their sale around 6 pm.  It was shameful.  People couldn’t have one day to spend with their families.  But there is a glimmer of morality in this money crazed holiday.  Some stores refused to open on Thanksgiving,; instead they cared enough about their employees to let them have the intended day of rest and time with their families.  One would hope that it would spur others to follow suit but I believe these other stores will stay open until sales dip to an unprofitable level.  So if you get drawn in by sales on Thanksgiving, DON”T GO.  There will still be fantastic deals the next day.  Let’s try to restore Thanksgiving to a holiday.

Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

“I am more than a little disappointed by Linvin’s failure. I have a good deal of pent up rage in my heart with only your sad sack of bones to release it upon. As a man of my word, I will kill you, but first let me introduce you to some people most interested to meet you.” Citizens from the gallery came forward with clubs, chains, and staffs. “My people want to convey their feelings about you burning half the capital along with their homes on your last visit.”

The people set upon Anvar so quickly that all the old elf could do was hide his face. His robe was shredded by the chains and the clubs repeatedly pounded his back and legs. Those holding staffs went for the head. Soon both Anvar’s ears were bleeding and the back of his head had been severely bloodied. A kick in the side knocked him on his back and his face became the primary target.

Necromancer stood silently and looked at his master with disgust. This was done in private because there was no honor in killing an old man in chains, but Mandrean loved the action. Necromancer, in truth, was a colder soul than his master, but he believed in giving his worthy opponents their due. Anvar had been worthy of respect as an adversary. He remembered Anvar’s last plea in his cell.

“Master?” asked Necromancer. “How did you plan to finish Greenlith?”

“Once the beating has him near death, I will use the Blue Sapphire to slice pieces off him while he is alive until his body surrenders.”

“That is a fine plan, but it does not let Greenlith suffer long enough. May I suggest you send him, with these wounds, to be one of the Forgotten Ones on the bottom floor of the prison? There without food, water, or light he will be slowly devoured by the giant rats roaming the level. Let him feel his life slip away over the days. It is much more suiting, don’t you think?”

Mandrean considered the plan. “I do want him to suffer as I have. If I do as you suggest, though, I will not have the pleasure of killing him for myself.”

“Come, My Lord, such an insignificant murder is beneath you and the great power you possess. He is not worthy of your effort.”

Mandrean saw that Anvar had stopped moving and ordered the people to relent in their assault. He stood and walked over to the limp body of Anvar. It was completely covered in blood. After watching for a few moments, he saw signs of respiration. “Don’t you die on me yet, Old Elf. I have a new cell for you. This time there will be no tea or guests. Guards. Remove him to the D Floor of the prison. Pay no attention to his cries or begging. He will become one of the Forgotten Ones and be denied all aid from this day forward. Now be off with him.”

As Anvar’s bloody carcass was carried away, Necromancer watched and thought, Anvar Greenlith, you are either the wisest man in Lavacia or the most foolish. Time will tell.

It took four goblin guards to carry Anvar’s nearly lifeless body from the throne room back to the prison. Upon entering, they started down the spiral staircase along the walls of the great roundhouse. They passed the Room of Horrors where Linvin had vanquished Hugon and saved Miri just a few years before. The next level down was a place where dead prisoners were kept until they were disposed of in the night when fewer eyes were watching. Below that was a storage room for the prison and the stairs came to an end at a narrow hallway. It was lit by lanterns and led to a massive oaken door with cell bars on a small window near its top.

In spite of their iron constitutions, the goblins covered their noses with rags as they opened the door. The smell of death, excrement, and decay was overpowering. With a heave, they threw Anvar into the room and shut the door.

Coming out of his stupor, Anvar tried to take stock of his surroundings in the midst of the menacing pain he was feeling. He lay in the spot on the floor where the lantern light shone in. As his eyes adjusted he saw forms the size of a dog race across the room. He was almost fortunate to have his nose broken and bloodied as he was unable to smell any of the foul odors about.

Anvar wiped the blood still flowing from his head with the sleeve of his robe. You really outdid yourself with this plan, Anvar. After being beaten nearly to death you get yourself thrown in here. Oh Linvin, my boy. I have played all my cards now. There are no more tricks left in my bag. I pray you come in time to save me.

 

Guest Post

I was privileged to write a guest post on the blog site, “Writing in the Modern Age.”  It was a chance for me to express my thoughts.  Many thanks to Marie Lavender for the opportunity.  Here is the link to the article: http://marielavender.blogspot.com/2016/11/guest-post-going-it-alone-by-rival-gates.html  Enjoy the read!

Blog Appearance

The blog site Field of Bookish Dreams has hosted me and my most recent book, “Repercussions Abound.”  Check it out here, http://fieldofbookishdreams.blogspot.com/2016/11/spotlight-on-repercussions-abound.html

The Trouble With Healthcare

I grew up in Ontario, Canada though I was born in Port Huron, Michigan.  And though we had to wait hours to see the family doctor, and there was no prescription drug coverage, my parents never paid for my doctor visits or hospital care when I crushed my shoulder in a biking accident.  Not one dollar was charged to them and it was a major surgery.  So I didn’t have to wait until the bones had settled in a deformed way they had me show up at the emergency room the one morning in the month the shoulder surgeon had to make rounds in the ER.  He saw me on a consultation and whisked me off to surgery.  Otherwise I would have looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame for the rest of my life.  Obviously it is a flawed system but my poor parents and I received no bill for world class care.  Fast forward to today.  My poor wife was in an auto accident and broke her foot.  It’s $60 every time we breath the save air as the doctor.  Then she needs two surgeries.  One will be next week (So I might not blog) on Tuesday and one a few months down the road.  So I have to pay one large deductible before insurance kicks in for part this year and then it resets in January so I pay it all again next year.  It’s ridiculous.  How are ordinary families supposed to pay for accidents?  Then there will be physical therapy.  My poor wife.  But this system doesn’t work.  The Canadian one isn’t perfect either as years ago my father waited in intensive care for 4 MONTHS for a triple bypass in a Canadian hospital and nearly died on their waiting list.  Only by breaking the rules and letting a resident do the surgery did he pull through.  That’s not the answer either.  But there must be something in between.  Imagine having no insurance!  Something’s better than nothing but being in debt forever with insurance is no answer either.  This is not my problem to solve.  I’m just going to concentrate on my wife and her health.  

Multi-Author Guest Blog

There was a multi-author blog of considerable size in which I was invited to participate.  The question posed to each of us was, “What does your writing process look like?” My answer is a little way down though the answers are in no particular order.  Some of the other authors had interesting points of view as well.  Please take a look at this piece of which I am honored to be a part.  http://marielavender.blogspot.com/2016/11/what-does-your-writing-process-look-like-special-multi-author-blog-event-and-350th-anniversary.html

Enjoy!

Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Necromancer was the first to appear from the stairwell. He ordered the goblin guards to wait there. As the Court Magician hovered over to Anvar’s cell with his arms pulled into the sleeves of his white robe with scarlet trim, he lowered his head and sighed. “My Dear Chess Adversary. It would seem our games and conversations are at an end. As you have no doubt guessed, it frosted last night and there is no sign of Linvin.

“I am surprised by his inaction. I am rarely wrong about a person’s demeanor, but there is little in the Territory he could not handle and we know he entered the Territory some months ago. The only sound reason for his not being here by now is that he wanted you removed as an obstacle to his success. He was always a brilliant tactician, though I would never say it to his face, but I never would have guessed he would sacrifice you. Since childhood you are the closest thing he has known to a father. It is good we did not wager on this.

“I had hoped Linvin would show for the engagement for various reasons. Either Mandrean would be dead or I would have to remain his servant for the rest of his mortal life. It is such a pity your nephew’s good sense made him forget sentimentality and think of himself. With you out of the picture, he might come and give me what I want after all.”

Anvar stood directly across from him on his side of the cell. “Linvin might still show and fail. You said yourself that you doubted even Linvin could best Mandrean’s plan. If that happened, you would still be nothing but a servant.”

“I sense a proposition about to be made,” Necromancer remarked with skepticism. “You do remember I cannot disobey my bumbling master, Lord Mandrean.”

“That is not my intent. I am to be killed, but there is no saying how. Convince Mandrean to perform the act slowly. Give Linvin more time.”

Necromancer was taken aback by the offer. “You want me to convince Mandrean to slowly kill you? Surely you realize this will mean prolonged agony for you?”

“I know the ramifications.”

Necromancer nodded his head and the cell door opened. “Your faith in your nephew is misplaced. You are opening yourself up for torture with little chance of salvation. Perhaps you are too much of a martyr to suit me.”

“It is true that I believe in Linvin. As for being a martyr, it would mean I would have to die, and I have no intent on doing so.”

The Election Day Book

It’s Election Day and a day we should take pride in as Americans.  No matter what you think of the candidates, we are blessed to live in a country that lets us choose from such poor choices.  Many countries live under oppression and have no such freedoms to pick their leaders.  But back to our election.  The more it played out the more it seemed to me like this was a book written for the masses.  Think about it.  You have the hot headed, ill tempered, harsh mouthed, woman bashing, Latino bashing guy who’s not playing with a full deck, over inflated ego candidate.  On the other side you have the slimy, hiding from the law, talking out both sides of her mouth, never giving a direct answer, should be wearing an orange jump suit, but has more money behind her than the Federal Reserve candidate.  Put them together and notice when one of them had something bad happen, the other one immediately had something bad happen.  It’s like a writer laid out the whole thing as a book and we are all just reading along.  In a way, maybe that’s true.  Maybe people are behind the scenes with this information and they are just waiting for the right time to release it?  Now that’s an intriguing theory.  These people have the damaging information and they release it when it will hurt the most or make their candidate look best.  As a writer that’s exactly how I would lay out the story.  It would be like two giant battleships slugging it out.  Every blow would grip the reader more and more.  Think I’m crazy?  I bet there’s at least one person behind the scene pulling strings in this election, like in a book.

5 Star Review

Yesterday I received my first review on Amazon.com of “Repercussions Abound.”  It was five stars which initially made me very happy but then the reader gave their reasons.  They said “Goodie Two Shoes” Linvin finally showed some cracks in his personality.  It was also noted that this book was written and edited better than the past ones.  Remember, these are my babies out there.  I have seen a problem either missed or created by editing in the past but they were few and far between.  I hardly think they had serious problems.  The weirdest part of all is that all of this was meant as a compliment.  In the end I think more people will look at the 5 gold stars rather than what was written.

On to Halloween.  I don’t know how many years in a row it has been but it has been a long time since we ran out of candy.   The reason for this is because I always buy too much candy.  I hand out a ton of it and the bowl seems to spontaneously regenerate with candy.  No matter how many trick-or-treaters we get, we are always left with a giant bowl of candy.  We have gotten smarter.  At least we now buy candy we like to eat.  It makes it tolerable.  This year I had two (2) different kids say, “Hey, can I have the rest of your bowl of candy?”  After telling them no they each wanted to know why.  I told them I had to save some for the other children.  Then I gave them each one piece of candy instead of the 3 I usually gave out and sent them on their way.  Can you believe the nerve of those kids?  That is the future of our society.  Let’s hope they’re just a couple of bad apples and the rest of the bunch was fine.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Repercussions Abound"

That same morning, Anvar awoke in his cell and felt decidedly colder than normal. He was short and frail, even as elves went, with silver-grey hair on his head and beard. His clothing was a fine white linen robe gloriously accompanied by iron shackles connected by a chain on his wrists. They prevented him from having free use of his hands and using his orange magic.

He threw off the rag he used for a blanket and rushed to the wall of his cell. There was a small barred window at the top of the wall too high for him to reach. Anvar stood on the edge of his bed as he had done on every cold morning and reached out to the window. This time was different than the others as his fingers felt the icy, wet sensation of frost on the bars which proceeded to melt against his skin. Anvar stepped down and looked at his hand in disbelief.

Linvin had months to arrive here and yet here we are. How could he forsake me? We have been so close for so many years. Did I mean so little to him that he would not come for me? No…No…No…That surely cannot be why. Something must have happened to him. Perhaps he was sleeping one night and a thief snuck into his camp and killed him. Maybe he was overcome by superior forces on the journey here. Mandrean might have already killed Linvin. That can’t be it. The whole point of this is to create a spectacle for the world to see so everyone knows he is better than Linvin. A quiet victory defeats the purpose of all this. Mandrean would have also used me as a bargaining chip in an altercation and clearly that has not happened. No, Mandrean has not seen him. So where is he?

Anvar sat on the edge of the bed with despair tugging at his elbow. Think of the situation like a general. If Linvin were to attack Mandrean, I would be used as a shield to prevent his action. Then my hostage status would be used to force him to capitulate. If all emotion were removed from the equation and it was looked at from a military point of view, Linvin would be better off to let them kill me first and then seek his revenge for my fall once their bargaining chip was gone. Then he could kill Mandrean and end their vendetta against him. It is logical. He is a great general. Such a plan has undoubtedly come to him. The question is whether my nephew would do such a thing to me. It seems either he would or he is dead. There was a sound of soldiers on the stairs. Either way, Mr. Greenlith, your time is up.

How and Why I Write

People always ask me, “When did you start writing?”  I always answer succinctly that I started when I was 13 years old.  What I don’t talk about is the why and how I started my stories.  So I will tell you now.  It was a really rough time in my family.  My father was downsized from his job and no one was hiring.  He was too experienced for most jobs or simply too old.  It was a less politically correct time.  He had been out of work for over a year and as the breadwinner things were really tough.  We were going to lose our home and the future was very dark.  Now add to this a thirteen year old boy who was severely depressed and was told by many he had a gift for writing.  We lived in a condominium above a highway near Toronto Canada.  I sat on my chest of drawers and watched the cars go by in the rain.  I’ve got to do something or I’ll go crazy!  I know; I’ll write a short story just for me.  No one else needs to see it.  During this time in my life I was reading epic fantasy and playing Dungeons and Dragons with my brothers.  My genre was clear.  Then I needed a main character.  I didn’t want a human because everyone writes about humans.  I thought strongly about an elf but envisioned them as frail and generally weak.  Then I thought of a half elf.  I got in at least one fight every day at school because everyone wanted to be the one to beat up the American.  If I was successful then they would send several people to bring me down.  My father was originally Canadian and never believed Canadians would act that way, regardless of the bruises and sprains.  I lived the life of a half breed and could pour this into my character.  Then I wanted him to go after something of great power.  Obviously I couldn’t choose a ring.  Swords had been done to death.  I wanted something that could have an opposite.  Then I thought of gemstones. I always liked blue sapphires but I needed another color.  I ran into my brother’s room (Google before we had Google) and asked him if there was a red sapphire.  He explained that technically there was but they are simply called rubies. I hopped back on the chest of drawers and rested my chin on my fist as I thought.  There had to be a way to make this work.  Then I came up with the idea for the great sapphire Prism of the Cosmos of which two pieces of equal power would be broken off and so on.  There was always lined paper around the house.  I started writing an outline and I soon found that I had the makings of much more than a short story.  I was writing a book.  The more I wrote, the more ideas came to me.  And that is how a 13 year old started his series of novels.

It's All About Business

I started writing like most authors.  I had dreams writing my stories, getting them published and becoming a famous author.  That could still happen but I discovered there was a huge element I never considered; business.  Writing is about business.  Give the reader what they want.  They don’t want 500 page books.  They want books with strong female protagonists.  They want sex scenes.  They want books around 200 pages.  They want romance.  I reflected and found my books had almost none of these factors.  So I continued to write the books the way I planned.  It was too late to change something I’ve had planned for 30 years.  Then promotion came into it.   There were blog appearances to make.  Summaries to write, interviews to do, and people to find to do reviews.  Fantasy is not the most popular category right now because its fans often would rather play a video game than pick up a book.  I do not fault them for that. I just have to draw their interest for my books.  The business part isn’t all bad.  It’s exciting to see yourself in a blog or read a positive review on line.  But make no mistake about it, the business end is what it’s all about and it’s hard work.  Your publisher will give a certain amount of help but in the end it’d up to you how badly you want to succeed.

Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Mandrean became flustered and stood in front of his throne. “If he cares so much for you then where is Grithinshield?”

Anvar stood straight and tall in front of the emperor. “You said it yourself. He must have been delayed in a manner of which we are unaware. One thing I am certain of, though, is that Linvin will come if there is breath in his body. He may not make it in time to save me, but he will come. When he arrives, I would not want to be you. He will be sure to finish you this time. Bringing Linvin here will be the last mistake you ever make.”

“This fight will be different. I have you as a hostage.”

Anvar leaned forward and said, “Suppose he doesn’t care. He knows you will kill me regardless. Why surrender to your threats? What else do you have?”

Mandrean began to stammer and sat down. “I have the Blue Sapphire.”

“You had it before and Linvin beat you. What else do you have?”

“I have the staff for it now.”

“That only makes your magic equal to his and as you know, they cancel each other out. Therefore, it doesn’t matter. What else do you have?”

“I have an army.”

“Linvin killed nearly seven legions almost entirely by himself last time you fought and still had strength to defeat you. What else do you have?”

“I have my superior fighting skills.”

“The same skills Linvin faced while half dead and still was able to stab you and leave you for the buzzards? That’s your last line of defense? You had better make sure Linvin is more tired this time.”

Mandrean felt where the scar had been on his abdomen. “Linvin only beat me because my armor was not fitted properly and left a gap. This time I have a new set of plate mail made by the finest Dwarven craftsmen. With my family’s sword, I will defeat him once and for all.”

Anvar quickly pictured how a slow-moving, overweight man like the emperor would fare against the nimble, quick lightning attacks of Linvin in his dragon scale armor with Falconfeather at his command. He decided not to give too much away prior to the fight. “That will be a sight to behold.”

Mandrean practically leapt out of his seat and began to circle Anvar. For his part, the prisoner looked unimpressed and showed no signs of being intimidated. “Look at you,” said Mandrean. “So smug in your belief in Linvin. Well he has abandoned you. While you toil in prison, he goes on about his life without you. Perhaps my agents were wrong about his feelings for you. He went without a mother or father for most of his life. Why would he care what happens to you?

“After all your posturing, you’re just scared to die. Every day you must look at that cell window and see if there’s frost on the bars. What are you afraid of? You’ve lived a long life, Old Elf.”

“I do not fear death.”

“Of course you don’t. You fear being the cause of Linvin’s death. Your bluffs will not fool me. Linvin adores you like a father and in that twisted mind of his he’s going to think he can save you two. If only he knew my plans, he would see that it is just not meant to be.”

“You, on the other hand are far too confident and sure of yourself. It is time to remind you that you are a prisoner. Guards.” The four goblins Acreas had sent as an escort came forward and stood behind Anvar.

“I want him to suffer and suffer mightily,” Mandrean ordered. “Do not puncture him, however, we would not want him to expire too soon.”

The emperor placed his hands behind his back and began shuffling toward his exit. “This exercise is about power, Anvar. It takes power to inflict pain. You and your nephew have been the cause of a great deal of pain to me. It is time you saw my power and learned what real pain was like.”

Today's Rant

This may not be my most popular blog of the year but it reflects how I feel.  Too many people are going around calling themselves “Experts” when their claim is built on weak credentials.  According to the dictionary, “The definition of expert is someone who is very skillful or has advanced training and knowledge in a particular area or field.”  I constantly get emails from people who have published a book and want me to pay them to help me write one myself.  Not to brag but I have 4 books published.  Why do I need their help?  And of course, they all call themselves experts.  I freely admit that I learn something new with each book.  If you aren’t learning even when you reach that golden plateau we all dream about, then you are just kidding yourself.  I learn from other authors and editors.  I learn from fans and try to remain humble.  But I couldn’t stay silent anymore after 4 more expert emails today.  It’s like someone making a cake once and then going on television and telling people they’re an expert cake maker.  There just isn’t enough evidence to support the claim.  I can’t help it.  I don’t like the word “Expert” being thrown around by people highly unlikely to deserve it at this point in their career.  That’s my rant.  Peace, out.

Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

What really drew his attention was a broadsword in an ornate scabbard attached to a sash-like belt meant to go over the shoulder and rest the sword against the back. Argentoe was drawn to it and found himself pulling the gear from the sack first. He gripped the leather-wrapped handle and drew the blade. Suddenly he heard a voice in his head.

Finally, you awaken me, Master. I had slept in that scabbard so long I thought some terrible fate had befallen you. No matter. I’m just glad to feel the air against my blade again.

Argentoe was terrified to near panic. There is a voice in my head and I think it is coming from the sword I am holding. This is impossible.

What are you talking about, Master? Of course I’m talking to you. I am your sword after all. Whatever is the matter with you?

How can you be talking to me if you are a sword? And why do you keep calling me ‘Master’?

Master, I am your sword, Falconfeather. Whenever I am out of my sheath I am awake. If I am in your hand our minds are joined as one. So we can hear one another and read the other’s thoughts.

Yes; I can feel you. There were two things I felt were missing from my life. Your consciousness was one of them.

Correct, Master. The Red Sapphire is the other. Let me see. I am reading your mind now and the picture is becoming clear to me. You have almost no memory at all. It is like a blanket has been thrown over your memory with small holes every so often so bits can come through to you. That is the reason you don’t remember me or the staff with the Red Sapphire. Once you have that back, I’m sure it will clear up all this memory business.

One thing to straighten out now is your name. I have no idea who this Argentoe person is, but your name is Linvin Grithinshield. It is one of the most revered names in the entire world, so I don’t want to hear any more of this Argentoe business. Your name is Linvin. Understand?

Linvin answered, Yes. I understand. My name is Linvin Grithinshield and I am your master.

For now, my predatory senses tell me we are about to be attacked by a pack of Trogoandras. I can smell them on the air.

How wonderful. It will be like the old days. Just you and me will take on and crush all of them. Oh, what a glorious fight we will have. I can almost taste their blood on my blade. I see you remember a good deal about them. That’s excellent. It will help us in the fight. Let us prepare quickly and then talk strategy.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

She looked up and saw him bobbing just off the ground with a red glow surrounding him. “Falconfeather is a most incredible sword,” she said. “She was just telling me about your uncle and the special bond you two have. He sounds like someone I would like.”

Linvin disrobed and cast a layer of red magic around his bandages to keep them dry. Then he immersed himself in the water and began the painstaking job of washing the Trogoandras blood off him. “Anvar would have liked you as well. It is unfortunate that I do not think you will ever meet.”

Corilon stood and began pacing with Falconfeather in her hand. Every time she looked like she was going to speak, she would stop herself. Finally, her frustration overcame her and she spoke plainly. “So let me see if I have this right. Mandrean has your uncle. If you don’t go, he will kill him. It is so late in the year he might have already killed him. So you feel your duty is to sacrifice yourself when you know Mandrean will certainly kill you both. Am I correct in all these statements?”

Linvin hovered out of the water and over to his clothes. “I believe now is the part where you tell me there is no point in going at all. But if you know all of that, then you know I cannot forsake Anvar even if there is the most remote chance that I can save him.”

Corilon placed her hands on her hips and stated angrily, “You forgot the part where I remind you that Mandrean doesn’t want Anvar. He wants you. Going there is exactly what he desires. You will not survive. Falconfeather is the most prideful, arrogant entity I have ever known and even she expects you to die. So why, why must you go?”

Linvin had just pulled on his trousers and addressed her harshly. “Because I am his only chance. I love you, but you are not in danger. I love him and he is in danger. For that reason, I must go. He would not be in this danger if not for me. That is another reason. Did Falconfeather forget to tell you I have a knack of making impossible situations work?”

“So you have a plan?’ Corilon asked.

“I have nothing set as of yet, but I assure you I do not intend to go quietly into their trap. I am going in with the mindset that I will bring both Anvar and myself home alive. Then I could take you home with me to Sartan. You would not want for anything.”

“And my family? What would happen to them?”

Linvin finished dressing. He shrunk the staff and stuck it to his back. Then he recalled Falconfeather and put her to sleep in her scabbard. “I will buy them whatever farm they want in Sartan. They can live in safety and prosperity for generations.” He hovered over and picked up his wife, kissing her. At first she kissed back and then began pounding him in the chest with the bottom parts of her fists.

“No, no, no. You’re living in a dreamland. If you leave now, I will never see you again. I know it. You said only moments ago that you didn’t think Anvar and I would ever meet. That means you believe it as well.” Then she turned away for a moment and hid her tears. Her voice became resolute. “I could stop you from going, you know.”

Blog Appearance

The famous blog, “In the Harem” was kind enough to post my information.  Check it out at http://bernardfoong.typepad.com/in_the_harem/2016/10/repercussions-abound-by-.html  It was really well done.  I want to thank them for finding room for me.

Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Argentoe exhaled a deep breath and spoke. “May I speak?” The table fell silent. “I was up nearly all of last night and counted at least seven different Trogoandras voices. Those are just the ones I heard. There could easily be others that came with them who did not signal. They called all night to relay their positions and coordinate. It was also their intention to sew fear in our ranks. There has been a strong northern wind and that delivers all our scents into the forest. They smell the fear in our party. They know we are ripe to be plucked. As such, they will rest during the day and then strike after dark when their numbers will be disguised. You see, the danger has not dissipated. It has become critical. A great attack is coming and we need to be prepared.”

“What makes you so sure of all this?” Stynard asked skeptically.

“For one thing, I listened to them last night and can pick out the different voices as surely as I can all of yours,” Argentoe began. “For another thing, I have knowledge of these creatures and their hunting styles. They would not mass so many if they did not plan to attack. They are too selfish in nature to share a prize they thought they could gather alone. I am right about this and we have until sunset to prepare.”

Stynard did not like being told he was wrong, but a quick look around the table clearly showed Argentoe had the full support of his family. His only choice was to go along with Argentoe and hope he was mistaken.

“Very well, Argentoe. We will follow your lead. If you happen to be right, then what would you have us do?”

Argentoe picked up on Stynard’s cynical tone and pounded his fist down. “I am right. So the first thing you can do is wipe that smug look off your face or I will leave you to face those demons alone.

“Now as I see it, they will use one of three possible strategies for attack. They never attack in a group without a plan. The first plan is to go for the easy pickings in the smokehouse. There is almost no chance of bodily injury and they could make off with quite a bit of smoked meat.

“The second plan is to storm the barn. They know we will have the cattle penned up in there. Once they deal with any defenses we put up, they will have all the meat they could want without even having to chase it down. It would take a large pack to pull off such an attack.

“Their final option is to attack and kill us first and then ravage the barn and smokehouse at their leisure. They do not respect humans as adversaries by themselves and would seriously discount our threat when they are in a pack. Trogos are kings of the forest, so after they slaughter the herd they need not worry about other predators honing in on their kill.

“I spent the better part of last night going over the merits of each plan and have made my conclusion. They will not try the first plan because dried meat has little appeal to wild carnivores. It is a last resort they would eat out of necessity like we would with salted biscuits.

“The third plan would tend to make sense, but they want to limit their exposure to injury as much as possible. They may not respect us, but that does not mean they want to sacrifice several members of the pack for their victory. People facing annihilation will fight harder than those who can run and hide. They smell our fear. That smell is strong. If I were them, I would disturb our sleep with constant howls, which they have done, and spook the animals throughout the day. By the time I attacked at night, I would expect the petrified farmers to offer little or no fight so long as my pack left them alone. I would have my victory with no loss to the pack.”

The table was quiet as the faces looked at one another. After a great deal of mumbling and hand gestures Stynard spoke for the group. “Your argument sounds plausible. What actions should we take?”

Argentoe rubbed his chin and began walking around the table.

“There are two options. We can let them have access to the animals and they will surely leave us alone. Or we can fight. To do so against an unknown number of Trogoandras could bring death for some or all of us. The choice must be yours.”

News on Repercussions

Repercussions Abound continues to sell well on Amazon. Many people are shocked by what transpires.  Some of the events make the readers sad while others make them excited.  There is a little something in this for everyone including the return of an old character who is funny as anything.  I have been inundated with questions about how the book ends.  The funny part is that it was supposed to answer their questions.  In the end, it answered all the questions hanging out from the first three books but created new ones.  That’s alright though.  I love leaving cliffhangers for my readers.  After all, the book isn’t called, “No More Repercussions.”  If you haven’t read it yet, it’s a good read for $2.99 on Kindle.  Here is the link.  https://www.amazon.com/Repercussions-Abound-Sapphire-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/B01LX8VHGY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1475603729&sr=1-1&keywords=repercussions+abound  Give it a shot even if you haven’t read the ones before. There’s a section to catch you up to speed.

Wednesday Excerprt, "Repercussions"

In the Commander’s Office of the Imperial Guard Barracks sat Commander Acreas at his desk with a feather, an ink well, and a pile of papers and scrolls. He was taller than Linvin and had a dominant physical presence, even among humans. Were he to stand, his intimidating stature would become most apparent. His long brown hair was bound together in the back making his strands pull tight against his head. Dressed in his fine uniform he cast a mighty shadow even from behind the desk. With his long sword beside him it was clear that paperwork was not one of his favorite duties.

There came a knock at the door. “Commander Acreas, it’s Captain Boshring. May I enter?”

Happy to have an excuse to end his task, Acreas set down his feather and answered, “Do come in, Boshring.”

In walked a man who was still imposing, but did not cut the broad lines of his muscular leader. “Commander, I have news for you.”

“We are alone, Boshring. There is no need for titles. What news brings you here with such zeal, My Friend?”

“Firstly, I have had all the Imperial Guard Captains recalled to the capital and given time consuming duties as per your instructions. I have also moved as many guards into the city as the barracks can hold. The remainder are camped outside the city. I told the men there might be a threat to the Emperor and that was why they were here. In all, nearly 90 percent of the Guard is in and around the city.”

“Excellent,” Acreas said as he sat back. “You are sure the other captains will follow me if the emperor dies?”

Boshring nodded, “They are with you so long as you do not betray your oath and kill your father yourself. They would see that as a lack of worthiness on your part.”

Acreas took to his feet and swept the papers from his desk in a violent stroke. Then he drew his sword and watched it as the light danced across the blade. “My Father. If he would only admit to being that, this coup would not be necessary. He thinks he is so smart by denying my birthright and keeping me here to watch over. The only ones more incompetent than him, are his spies. Oh what I would give to be the one to ram this steel through his heart. Alas, that is not to be. Is there any word on Grithinshield yet?”

“That is the other part of my news, Acreas. The frost is nearly upon us and still there is no sign of Grithinshield. For this plan to work, we need him to kill your father. The Emperor is angered by the long delay and has sent for Anvar Greenlith to see him in his courtroom. I thought you would want to know.”

Acreas looked sharply at Boshring and replaced his sword in its scabbard. “I must be the one to take Greenlith there. It is my only chance to question him. Has anyone else been dispatched to get him?”

“A squad of goblins was sent, but you still have time to intercept them.”

Tuesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

The firelight brought the monsters plainly into view. They were long and not at all lean. Their bodies were thick and muscular with powerful limbs to attack and low centers of gravity to maintain balance in any encounter. Linvin’s memory had been correct, but had not done justice to the horror of their 180 degree double line of teeth. They glistened in the light and looked impossible to fit together considering the serrated row in the front.

Their fur was a combination of black and grey with a narrow mane of hair running from the tops of their heads down their spines. The oily nature of their skin made the fur mat down and clump in odd places where presumably another Trogo had nipped the other for some reason. Two Trogos climbed onto the wagon and produced claws the size of Linvin’s hand to begin shredding the wooden door to the barn.

They were a ghastly sight to Linvin who felt fear creeping into his stomach and tying his innards in knots. Then the bloodthirsty essence of Falconfeather poured like a waterfall into his being, erasing all doubt and replacing it with a wanton urge to slaughter every Trogoandras in sight. He felt self-assured and ready to fight.

The general in Linvin took center stage as he viewed the scene and quickly devised a strategy. He grinned as he thought about it and looked closely at his landing spot.

I love the plan, Master. Just remember your footing and to protect your feet. These things are close to the ground and love to attack low. And do not worry about putting enough force behind your blows. Between your strength and my might the most delicate slash will cause a most fatal effect.

Linvin had not moved his eyes. There are too many Trogos standing there with nothing to do. Wait for it. As if on cue the alpha let out a growling howl and two wolves ran around each side of the barn toward the northern entrance. Once they were well gone, Linvin smiled and the image of white flames appeared on Falconfeather. Old Friend, it is time to slaughter this scum.

Linvin leapt off the roof and headed for the edge of the wagon closest to the fire. The two Trogos on the wagon were on their hind legs scratching with their front claws. As Linvin descended he stabbed Falconfeather into the side of the nearest Trogo right behind the neck and let his momentum slice deep into the creature all the way to its hindquarters. Linvin landed on the edge of the wagon and pulled his sword back from the barn. The dying beast fell upon his comrades who were stunned by the turn of events. Clinging to the element of surprise, Linvin stabbed completely through the mid-section of the other Trogo on the wagon. Again he discarded the carcass on the crowd below.

By that point the other Trogoandras were enraged and urged on by the alpha. They jumped at Linvin’s feet and attempted to pull him down into the mass of wolves. Linvin slashed at them as they made their modest jumps, but knew his time on the wagon was short lived. His plan was to jump to the clear zone between the barn and the fire and make his stand there. As he prepared to jump, a Trogo leaning on the wagon reached up and wrapped its teeth around Linvin’s left calf.

Stab it in the chest. Stab it in the chest, Falconfeather quickly called. Linvin did as ordered and the Trogo released its grip as it was mortally wounded in the heart and fell back.

Wasting no time, Linvin jumped to the open spot by the fire. A Trogo immediately attacked him. Linvin fended him off with his shield and used the beast’s momentum to raise it up. The action exposed the belly of the beast and Linvin did not think twice about slashing deep into its underbelly and dropping it for good. Another Trogo was right there to take its place as the fighting continued.

It’s only a matter of time until they come ‘round the fire and attack from two sides, Falconfeather warned.

I expect as much, Linvin thought between attacks. Even so, with every kill the odds swing more in our favor, Old Friend.

Guest Appearance

Marie Lavender was kind enough to host me on her blog “Writing in the Modern Age” There is a character interview, an author interview and an excerpt from the new book, “Repercussions Abound.”  Here is the link to the blog: http://marielavender.blogspot.com/2016/09/a-character-interview-with-linvin-from-repercussions-abound-plus-chat-with-author-rival-gates.html  Enjoy the read!

1st Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Today I bring you the first excerpt from “Repercussions Abound.”  Enjoy.

 

“Is that because you know me so well? You love a man you think you know. Every day I learn more and more about who I really am and something here just feels off to me. It is as though there is a huge piece of me missing. No. Actually, it is like there are two pieces of me missing. Tell me, you saw me fight the first group of bandits. Was there anything of note about me?”

Corilon thought back to that terrifying day and remembered Argentoe cutting a dashing figure as he chopped down one bandit after another with the aid of a glowing sword with white flames running the length of the blade. He was outnumbered and in full control. She realized she loved him from that moment onward.

“So was there anything you can think of to help me?” Argentoe repeated.

Corilon pulled the blanket to her chin and answered quietly, “You were a great warrior. The number of opponents left you unfazed. There was not much to tell, really.”

She rolled away and showed him her back as she hid tears forming in her eyes. Corilon knew there was a high probability Argentoe’s memory might come back if he were given his sack of possessions. She knew it was the right thing to do. It might even save his life. Yet Corilon wept in silence and did not move. She could not bring herself to take the chance of losing her husband.

Argentoe was preoccupied trying to determine how he knew so much about their enemy and yet nothing about how he came upon the information. He held the sword straight out in front of him and looked down the blade again.

“Take this sword. It is straight and was hammered out by a weapon smith with considerable skill. The blade is tapered perfectly and was sharpened by someone with knowledge of such craft. The handle is weighted right for thrusting and pummeling. In battle you can switch from one attack to another without moving your grip. The pommel is rounded out nicely for sudden blows to the skull.”

He stabilized it on his finger and watched as the sword never dipped. “It is perfectly balanced and is made of a fine steel alloy only a talented craftsman could forge. This is an excellent blade and anyone carrying it into battle should be proud to have it by their side.”

Argentoe tossed it to the corner of the room like a piece of refuse. “I know this much. It is not my sword. This is going to sound strange, but my sword is somehow…alive. I realize that makes no sense, but it is like an old friend or companion whom I trust with my life and has saved me countless times. It is that friend I need now, in my head, in my hand, waiting to jump into the abyss. Where did it and all my other things go? I cannot remember seeing them since I was lying in the wagon so long ago.”

Corilon could not think of a clever way to avoid the question so she outright lied. “I have not seen any of your things. It has been so long now they could have been lost or accidentally buried with the bandit bodies along the way. The matter is of little consequence. Those items didn’t spark any memories before. There is no reason to think they would now.”

“You may be right,” Argentoe said with disappointment. “But I know my sword would have cleared up some of my thoughts or at least given me a better chance in the coming battle.” Corilon was silent and simply nodded.

“When all my plans are said and done, you and I know this fight will be as your father said. It will come down to me against them. I can plan and scheme, but no one is going to sacrifice themselves to help me in this battle. And that is exactly what this would be, a sacrifice. One Trogoandras can kill every one of you. A pack of ten or twelve would devastate the farm.

Book 4 Is Out!

There is that momentous occasion in a writer’s life when they publish their first book.  It’s an amazing feeling to say you are a published author.  You would think that feeling would diminish when you publish your second book but it doesn’t.  Now you are in that relatively small group who can say they’re multi-published authors.  Then a third book comes out and your fraternity of authors becomes smaller still.  Now I am pleased to announce the release of my fourth book, “Repercussions Abound.”  It is available on Kindle at http://amzn.to/2cGyNmy and on paperback at http://amzn.to/2deaOGW.  This book answers a lot of questions and as the title suggests, has some negative outcomes for nearly every character.  See what happens to each character and how they deal with their reversal of fortunes.  Enjoy the book!