Excerpt: Repercussions

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.

Interview

Debbie De Louise of Ruff Drafts Blog was kind enough to feature me in an interview.  You can read it here at wp.me/p6m4z7-15H @Solsticepublish  Take a minute and read it.

Excerpt, "Revenge"

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.

Excerpt, "Crucible"

One of the goblins guarding the elves on the journey stepped over to Hugon. “Sergeant, I mean no disrespect but we were given strict orders not to mistreat the prisoners.” Hugon’s anger returned to him. He drew the soldier’s sword and ran him through with its blade. The goblin fell to the ground in a pool of his murky blood. Hugon turned to the others with the gory weapon in hand and roared, “Does anyone else have a problem with how I run my jail?”

It was at that moment the locked double doors flew open and a hurricane force wind swept into the room, extinguishing all the torches and lanterns. The goblins were knocked to the ground alongside their captives. A bright white light shone in through the doorway. Its radiance was blinding and all shielded their eyes. Through the luminosity the silhouette of an individual grew as it approached. Once the shadow reached Linvin he could finally see who entered the room.

Hovering just off the ground was a diminutive Human man, no bigger than Rander with his arms outstretched to the sides. He was adorned in a white silken robe with gold embroidery at every edge. Handcrafted sandals of the finest quality covered his feet. He lowered his arms and the light and wind dissipated. His face could be discerned.

His skin was white as snow. It was as though he had never been in the sun. A gray beard obscured much of his lower face and dipped down to his chest. As the breeze subsided, his hair fell back around his head. The short salt and pepper locks fell gracefully around his face. Even with that, the most notable feature was only just coming into view.

The man’s eyes were sunken deep into their sockets. There were no pupils or irises in the eyes. They glowed in a combination of red and orange hues. Their appearance in the darkened cavities of the skull was that of smoldering coals in a blacksmith’s forge. They gazed about the room as the man set down on the ground. The goblins shook with fear. Even the obstinate Hugon cowered on the floor.

The man spoke with a voice that was both amplified and at a screeching pitch. “Word has reached me that my prisoners have arrived. You did not inform me as I had ordered. WHY?” The walls shook from his voice.

Hugon crawled forward with his belly impeding his progress. “Great Necromancer, we received no orders telling us to inform you.”

Necromancer grew enraged at the statement. “Do not lie to me, Vile Vermin.” He held out his palm. A wind blew through the room and gathered the ashes from the scroll. Drawing together in a vortex, it deposited the remains in his hand. With the soot in his possession he closed his fingers. The ash changed back into the scroll. Opening the parchment he read it to himself. “I seem to have found the orders,” he said as he dropped them in front of Hugon. The Jailor did not move.

Without notice Necromancer reached out one hand and unleashed a plume of fire the like of which no one but a Lava Giant had ever seen. The flame poured over the quivering bodies on one side of the room. The entire area was enveloped in liquid flame. After a few short moments, he pulled his hand back and the fire withdrew back to his palm. All the goblins on that side of the room were gone. No trace was left to show they’d ever existed. The elves had been in that area as well, but they were unscathed. Their skin had not even risen in temperature.

Excerpt: "Quest"

“Make way!” called a voice from the back of their gathering.  The men became silent and parted to fully reveal the grandeur of the throne and its occupant.  They knelt on one knee and bowed.  Rising to his feet from the seat of power was an aged king wearing fine silks and a proud smile.

His silver hair was fine and still covered his head.  The wrinkles in his face each seemed to have a story to explain its origin.  That face and its owner had deliberated many a trouble, but it took on a glow at the sight of Linvin.  A sense of great pride welled forth and transformed his appearance from a worried king to an admirer.

Linvin approached with his head held high and knelt most eagerly before the King.

“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.  ~ 55 ~

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.

Excerpt: "Repercussions"

Corilon and Linvin were the last to reach the supper table. Even Tibare found his place before they did. As they sat down, Rolanna elbowed Stynard who showed mild irritation at the motion, but had clearly been on the losing end of an argument with his wife. He cleared his throat and said, “Argen…I mean Linvin. I said some things today I regret. In light of our deception and manipulation, I apologize and hope that you will stay on with us. You are, after all, part of the family now.”

Corilon clasped Linvin’s hand and spoke before he could. “He knows that, Father, but there is a matter of the utmost urgency he must attend to. For that reason, he will be leaving for a time in the morning.”

Rolanna leaned forward and looked at her daughter with a desperately concerned expression, but Corilon only responded with a single, slow sideways shake of her head. Then she continued.

“It turns out the task Linvin had been neglecting was saving his uncle. Someone has taken him hostage and Linvin must free him before the first frost. Once Linvin has rescued him, he will return and has a surprise for us.

“My husband is the owner of the Grithinshield Trading Company and has promised to buy us our choice of farms in Sartan, where we may live in peace and without fear of danger. Whatever we need to make the farm work will be ours.”

“What about all the work we have put in on this farm?” Stynard asked. “Are we just going to leave it for someone else?”

Tibare spoke up. “Father, think of all the hardships we have had since we left Rador. There have been numerous bandits, fighting the land itself, and now giant wolves. A well-established farm in Sartan with the latest equipment and a policed community sounds most attractive.”

“What if the wolves return while you are rescuing your uncle?” Stynard asked Linvin directly.

“Cut off the heads of the dead Trogos,” Linvin answered. “Then stake them on poles along the perimeter of the farm. Between that and the losses they sustained, you will see no more Trogoandras for a long time.”

“And what about your promise never to leave?” Stynard pressed.

Linvin looked directly across the table at him and made eye contact. “This will just have to be an exception to that rule. I leave in the morning. You have more than enough help to finish the harvest without me.”

Stynard did not blink as he returned the stare. He could see Linvin’s mind was predisposed and his daughter supported his decision. “So be it.” The rest of the meal was spent avoiding particulars of Linvin’s mission.

After dinner Linvin and Corilon returned to their home for one last special night together.

In the morning, Linvin saddled his horse and packed the mule with provisions under Rolanna’s guidance. Corilon stayed in bed until the packing was finished. Then she dressed and joined the others by the barn. She came out as Linvin was nearly ready to depart.

As the family gathered around, Stynard said a last prayer. “Father Creator, we thank you for bringing Linvin into our lives. We wish him a swift and successful journey to wherever he is headed and ask that you return him to us unharmed.”

Linvin shook all the men’s hands and gave the women each a kiss on the cheek. When he reached his wife he turned his back to the others and handed her his dagger usually kept in his boot. “I will be back for this. You stay out of trouble until I come.”

Corilon smiled as only she could and said simply, “No promises.” Then she gave him a long kiss that neither party wanted to end. At last, Linvin pulled away and floated up to his saddle.

“Until we meet again,” Linvin called as he rode away.

Among all the well-wishes Corilon shed a tear and said, “Farewell Linvin Grithinshield; the man who has been my husband.”

Linvin headed north on the road, but would be sure to avoid the forest. Once he was little more than a speck on the horizon, Rolanna took Corilon by the arm and dragged her away from the others. Then she spoke in a hushed tone. “Why did you not tell Linvin about the baby? He would never have left.”

“That is exactly why, Mother. That is exactly why.”

 

 

Character Profile: Fendri

The last Character Profile I will do from “Repercussions Abound” is Fendri.  He is a simple, honest man.  Fendri has been Mandrean’s best friend since childhood.  When they went to war, Fendri was his weapons-bearer.  Now that Mandrean is Emperor, Fendri finds himself as Head of Mandrean’s Household and personal servant.  As such Fendri does as he is told and runs a tight ship. Guards, servants and concubines answer to his every command. When he is alone with his master and friend he is often asked his opinion on events of the day.  Fendri is confident in his position and always tells his master the truth; even though it usually disagrees with Mandrean’s commands or actions.  Mandrean fumes under the harsh criticism often laid down on him but Fendri is untouchable.  He is the only person Mandrean completely trusts.  Rightly so.  He has no hidden agenda.  All he wants is what’s best for Mandrean, even at the expense of the empire.  It is a pity Mandrean listens to him so little. Anyone could use a friend like Fendri.

Character Profile: Acreas

Today’s character profile is about a relatively new character to the series. His name is Acreas.  He is the illegitimate first born son of Lord Mandrean, who has no legitimate heirs.  Acreas stands approximately 6 foot 3 inches tall and is a well-trained athlete.  His mother is a cunning concubine who knew the buttons to push with Mandrean to always get the best for their son.  The result was that Acreas had the finest tutors for his schooling including military and combat training.  It is because of these gifts that the young man of 21 feels he is superior to his father and deserves to be recognized as heir.  Mandrean’s firm rebukes of the idea infuriate the ambitious Acreas.  By recognizing him, Mandrean fears for his life.  He does not realize that withholding the title brings death closer as Acreas has become Commander of the Imperial Guard.  The Elite cavalry unit controls the army and thereby the empire.  The captains below Acreas are loyal to him and would support his ascendency to the throne provided Mandrean died and not by any device of Acreas’.  Their loyalty to Acreas will not supersede their oath to protect the life of Mandrean.  They would not support someone who broke that oath.  Acreas has hit a wall.  His best hope now is for Linvin Grithinshield to kill his father for him so the throne will be open.  The solution is not so simple.  Acreas hates Linvin with an immature, boyhood passion.  Years ago, when Linvin first came to Marinhalk he encountered Acreas on the stairs of the jailhouse.  Without even using a weapon, Linvin bested him leaving the bastard prince with a sprained ankle and a scar above his eye.  Now every time he looks in the mirror he is reminded of his humiliation at Linvin’s hands and wants to kill the half- elf.  He gathers every piece of information the empire has on Linvin from every victory as a general to how he likes his food.  It is an obsession with him and he finds himself in a personal conflict.