Excerpt, "Crucible"

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.

Just by lifting one forefinger, Necromancer surrounded Hugon in a shell of magic, which was nearly invisible. It lifted him off the ground. With a shift of his finger Necromancer sent him flying across the room until he collided with the wall of the tower. Then he soared across to the far side and again struck the wall. The process was repeated several times before Necromancer deposited the massive goblin where he’d previously lain.

Necromancer walked forward and stopped just short of Hugon’s face. The Great Goblin immediately tried to kiss his feet. Repulsed by the action, Necromancer stepped back. Then he spoke. “Were my orders unclear?”

“No,” answered Hugon.

“Then I must assume you chose to ignore them. Is that right?”

“Yes,” answered the timid Hugon.

Necromancer placed his hands behind his back and paced before the goblin. “Did you know any of the goblins I just eradicated?”

“Yes”

“Were you friends with any of them?”

“Yes,” answered Hugon.

“Perhaps you wish to join them in the Hereafter?” Hugon simply shook his head. Necromancer stopped walking. “Then consider this your only warning. If you ever disobey me again there will not be enough dust left from your body to bury.” Then he turned his attention to the remaining goblins. “Just to make sure this refuse does not choose to test me, if he disobeys me you will all share in his fate. If he cannot follow orders for himself, perhaps he will for you.”

Teaser, "Mandrean Revenge"

Linvin’s had a tough go of it in the first two books.  From assassins to his annoying cousins he has dealt with problem after problem.  There were wicked men, goblins, bandits, a dragon, an army, a very irate Emperor, the most powerful magician in the world, you get the point.  One way or another Linvin and his party battled through.  Now that he’s home again the upcoming book, “Mandrean Revenge” begins.  Lord Mandrean is furious with Linvin.  He gives Linvin a no-win ultimatum.  With little choice, Linvin agrees to go to the Mandrean Capital of Marinhalk in order to be executed.  With a sorrowful heart Linvin leaves home for the last time.  Even his cousins, Bander and Rander try to talk him out of it.  But Linvin has looked at the problem from all sides and this is the only scenario with a chance of working.  Will Linvin even make it there, all alone in the Unclaimed Territory?  Can he find a way out of this?   If Linvin’s world was a ball of string it would be coming undone in the wind.  Is there any hope for him at all?  Find out when “Mandrean Revenge” is released.  Coming soon.

Exceprt, "Quest"

Linvin looked into the darkness but only saw the swaying trees in the night’s sky.  “That wolf sounded close,” he noted.

“That was no ordinary wolf,” Rander commented.

“What is so unusual about that wolf?” Linvin inquired as he found his bow and arrows. 

“Remember those predators I was telling you about before?” Rander asked.  “That’s one of them.  You can tell from the low howl.  Up here, we call them Trogoandras Wolves.”

“What is so special about those wolves?” Anvar asked.

“Well, to start with, they are the size of a full-grown human.  Their claws can effortlessly cleave flesh from bone.  They have powerful jaws that can snap your thigh in two, like a twig.  Inside their mouths are two rows of teeth.  The outer set is for tearing and shredding while the inner ones are for grinding.

“They have been the bane of loggers and farmers.  You see, for all of the creature’s strength and power, Trogoandras have one flaw.  Their legs are disproportionately short for their body.  Most of the prey out here is long legged and too fast for them to run down, so they hunt in packs.  One will mark a target and call for the pack to assemble.  Then they will corner the herd they are tracking and attack.  They are reasonably intelligent and crafty hunters, few escape the wave of death cast across their victims.

“With the ax men driving away the herds from these woods, Trogoandras have set to devouring stock and, as necessary, people.”

“They attack people?” exclaimed Linvin as he placed an arrow on the string of his bow.

“Sure do,” said Bander.  “Lost two friends in the last month to ‘em.  Can’t run as fast as deer, ya’ know.  Outa control, them Trogos are.”

“I shouldn’t worry for now,” Rander told his cousin.  “That was only one Trogoandras we heard.  They seldom attack alone and will never come near a campfire without a pack.  As long as we keep the fire going through the night, we should not have anything to fear.”

To be safe, Linvin set up a schedule for everyone to take turns watching the fire throughout the night.  He had dealt with wolves on a normal scale, years before in Valia, and barely survived.  The thought of an animal as big as a man was fodder enough to remind him of the past and keep him awake most of the night.

Is Linvin Too Perfect?

I recently was told by a reader that I made Linvin (the protagonist in my books) “Too perfect” and that she rooted for bad things to happen to him throughout “Quest for the Red Sapphire.”  I guess that’s one way of keeping a reader’s attention.  Then I considered whether or not she was right.  On one hand, Linvin is very gifted in many ways.  On the other hand, he has his flaws just like anyone else.  Some of his flaws cause great hardship to the party.  He must also be so skilled and forthright in order to be worthy of the Red Sapphire.  He’s supposed to make the difference of an army by himself.  You can’t have a character who reeks of ineptitude wielding that kind of power.  That would be harder to believe.  It would totally ruin the question of why the Red Sapphire chose Linvin.  Is Linvin too perfect? I can see how people could see it that way.   To them I say, he’s as perfect as he needs to be.  

Linvin: A Complex Character

In “Quest for the Red Sapphire” the main character, Linvin, finds himself going through an identity crisis.  At first, he was a great general who had won many battles.  But the scale of the slaughter is bothering his conscience.  He finds on one hand he regrets what he has done and on the other he is enjoying it.  At that time, he is summoned home by the disappearance of his father.  Then he must change.  No longer a warrior on the field, he must become one in business to save the family merchant empire.  After fixing the problems with the company he feels complacent.  His mother expects him to take a wife, settle down and start a family.  But Linvin’s feet must keep moving so he opens a new store in Missandor and runs it as its manager.  Then he must change again as his mother is assassinated and he must run for his life on a quest to find what this father sought for him.  With a combination of fear and anger, Linvin sets out with his criticizing uncle Anvar to find thee gem before the assassins do.  They pick up Linvin’s annoying cousins and Linvin’s patience is tested daily.  He must remember how to be a leader and do it with people totally antagonistic to him.  That’s a lot of personality changes for one character in a short time.  Linvin is a complex character who will find all these traits will benefit him in the end.   

Excerpt, "The Sapphire Crucible"

 Donorus hardly reached his place before Tecious struggled to his feet and stepped forward with cane in hand. After a few paces, the frail senior general stopped and gave a nod of his head. A mere two pawns came forward marked Nine and Ten. They took up positions south of Marinhalk and north of the Sorrowful Sea.

“My report will be short, My Lord,” Tecious announced. “I currently command only two divisions. They are both in training and will not be ready to be activated for some time.”

Mandrean’s demeanor changed drastically. After returning his goblet to Fendri, he walked forward with concern. “How are the new Legions doing?” he asked.

Tecious sighed and leaned on his cane with both hands. “I have trained armies for this Empire for over forty years and never have I seen a sorrier group of recruits than this last batch you sent me. I understand the Cangon Clan has chosen not to sell us any more goblins. My belief is they came to that decision before sending us this lot. It is not like it used to be where the crème of their warrior crop was ours for the choosing. These goblins are too lazy, too old and too young. I expect half to wash out in training and the rest will take at least a year to be battle ready.

“As for economics, my Province has fertile farmlands producing everything from hard-fruit to grains. The grape harvest is beginning and our wine production is reaching new heights. Unfortunately, we have no one with whom to trade. Only Ravensburg accepts our goods outside the empire. While they call themselves a ‘Free City’ the taxes they charge on every transaction border the ridiculous.”

Mandrean began to pace. “I’ve heard about the Cangons,” he affirmed. “We will have to look in different directions to fill the Legions.”

“I have made this statement before and I stand by it,” Tecious noted. “It is time to reintroduce Men back into the army. The shortage of manpower has been overcome and the goblins are running amuck. Even with the best training they loot from our own people. Crops are pillaged and stores confiscated.”

“Are the usurpers dealt with swiftly?” Mandrean asked.

“Of course,” Tecious answered. “I have put more goblins to the sword for theft in the last two years than I did years ago in all the Border Wars with the Goblin Nations. We are being sent the dregs of their society. While our fine men work in the fields, these scoundrels carry the Standard of the Empire. It is time to reverse their roles.”

Mandrean was silent as he walked over and politely gestured to the seat where Tecious had been in a nonverbal request to sit. The general rolled his eyes and shuffled back to his place. “Go ahead,” he mumbled on his way. “Say it.”

Mandrean obliged. “Great Tecious, you are a Master Trainer and no finer have ever lived…”

“But?” Tecious interjected.

Mandrean despised being predictable but felt no choice but to finish his thought. “You know my plans. We stand to take considerable losses. I would rather goblins form the fodder rather than our people.”

“As always, My Lord, I am your humble servant and will comply. Do consider, if the makeup of our forces were different, our loses may be as well.”

“If you are wrong,” Mandrean corrected. “We face a decimation of the populace not seen since the War of the Unclaimed Territory. The people would revolt.”

“They are not far from that point now,” Tecious added. “Our people are tired of the goblins and the crumbling infrastructure. They are nearing their threshold.”

Mandrean walked to his throne and spoke. “It will not be long before our people’s fears are alleviated and all will be well. I assure you.” Tecious simply nodded his acknowledgement and said no more.

Leaving the Script

As a writer you plan things so much.  You plan the events of a book.  You plan the character development.  You plan every detail down to the dialogue.  And once in a while it happens.  You get bored.  There are no surprises left.  That is the time you go off script and add a new twist to the plot.  It freshens it up and gets the creative juices going again.  Some of my favorite moments in my books were off script.  In the first book, the lumberjacks were a spur of the moment addition.  They fit into the story quite well.  They saved Linvin’s Company and they in turn solved their problem with the Trogoandras.  Later in the book I decided to finally have Rander cross the line and get punched out.  I knew Linvin was supposed to be above such things but the reader in me couldn’t take it anymore.  Rander had to go down.  Breaking away from the script on these precious moments takes away the doldrums of everyday writing and reinvigorates the mind.  Writing is about planning but it is about having fun too.

Excerpt, "Quest"

One of those branches ran only Linvin's height from the ground yet was of sufficient strength to easily hold the hunter.  The overhanging web of foliage dipped down just enough to make him hard to see in the shadows; they did not obscure his view of the field.  There he perched himself, waiting for something to come into his field of view.

Linvin sat for a long time.  Through gaps in the branches, he could still see the stars as they kept watch over him.  His weary mind drifted back to sipping fine ale on his deck not so long ago.  There was not a care in the world then; his biggest concern had been the sales number for the previous day at the store.  Now he found himself in the middle of a disputed land with danger all around.  He fled from a nameless enemy that had apparently killed his parents, and he was starving.  Trying to recall the specifics of everything was simply too taxing on his brain.  Putting it out of his mind, Linvin drifted off to sleep.

He didn’t know how long he slept but a grunting sound awakened him.  His sleepy eyes opened to see two wild boars below him, digging in the ground for food.  There was what he presumed ro be a male and a female.  Using their sharp tusks they foraged, unaware of Linvin’s presence.

What luck! Linvin thought with excitement.  One of the thick beasts could feed his party for some time.  Linvin then realized there was bad news as well.  While he had been asleep, he had dropped his bow and arrow.  They lay not far below him on the ground.  He did not dare get down to retrieve them.  Once the element of surprise was lost, his chances of slaying one of the beasts were next to none.

Linvin lay forward on the branch and grabbed for his bow.  It was still out of reach.  Linvin did not want the opportunity to pass, so he took a risk.  The bow was not that far out of his grip.  He decided the best thing to do would be to lock his legs around the tree limb and hang down in order to retrieve his weapon.

Crossing one foot firmly over the other, he straddled the branch and turned upside down.  There was one simple flaw in Linvin’s hastily conceived plan.  When his head went down, all the arrows in the quiver on his shoulder fell out onto the ground.  They made a loud noise as they crashed down.

The boars’ heads popped up from their digging and saw Linvin hanging upside down from the tree.  The female turned and bolted for cover.  The male reacted in a very territorial manner.  He may have been protecting her or his area, but either way, he was enraged.  Snorting violently, he charged the intruder.

Linvin was caught off guard.  He had to act quickly.  Grabbing the bow and an arrow from the ground, he tried to get a bead on the rushing boar.  Linvin had never tried to shoot from such a position before but had no choice.  Taking quick aim, he drew and loosed the arrow.

Due to the odd angle, the arrow took an arc toward the ground.  Luckily, the boar was close enough that the arrow hit him in the shoulder on its downward curve.  For a moment, the beast staggered.  Then fury took hold of him once more.  Screeching wildly, he moved in on Linvin.  With a swipe of his head, he knocked Linvin to the ground.  Not wasting any time, he tore his tusks into Linvin’s chest.

Linvin was being shoved around like a ball.  His great mass was easily thrown by the stout foe.  Every time Linvin tried to move out of the way, the boar seized hold of him again.

After literally being thrown several paces, Linvin’s hand came to rest on a loose rock slightly larger thana grapefruit.  When the boar came at him, Linvin smashed the rock down on its head.  Again, the beast staggered.

Taking the initiative, Linvin used both hands and cracked it on the skull again and again.  Blood poured from the wound as Linvin continued to pound with all his might.  At last, the pig moved no more.  Its skull was crushed.

Linvin pulled the dagger out of his boot and slit its throat to let the blood drain and prevent the meat from bruising.  Then he fell back onto the ground and assessed the injuries he had taken.  Aside from a deep laceration on his chest, his wounds were mostly cuts and bruises.