Guest Post

A good friend of mine and fellow writer is Angel Dunworth. She will be doing a book signing and I wanted you all to know about it. Follow this link: https://streetlighthalo.blogspot.com/

I Still Have My Land Line

I feel old.  I am the only person I know who still has a land line.  Mind you, we have cell phones that we use frequently.  As it turns out, the bundle I have with my cable provider makes it cheaper to have a land line then to get rid of it.  I rarely use this phone.  It seems to be basically a telemarketer magnet.  I just deleted 8 telemarketer calls.  I don’t even try to answer the phone when it rings.  It is my opinion that the cable companies purposely make the price prohibitive to discontinue the land line.  They could make it cheaper if they wanted to but they don’t.  Why do these companies want us to have land lines so badly?  Are they selling the phone numbers to telemarketers?  Whatever it is, I seem to be the only person who kept their phone.  Other than coming in handy when my cell phone isn’t working, it’s pretty much a waste.  So here I sit with my land line; feeling alone in the crowd.  Man; I am old.

Excerpt, "Sapphire Crucible"

Anvar brought him some water. “How is she?” he asked.

Linvin took a drink and returned the water skin to his uncle. “I really am not sure. I have seen more than my share of wounds on the battlefield but nothing like this. Her entire back side has been scathed. None of her ribs are out of place but I am certain the breaks are inhibiting her breathing. I will watch her tonight, but if she does not wake by morning, I fear she may never. All of it is my fault.”

“How can you say that?” Anvar asked in shock.

“You were right, Uncle. I could have finished Hugon much quicker. I could have spared her some of this pain and perhaps her life if I had not sought vengeance. Once again I lost sight of the bigger issue and failed.”

Anvar recalled his words on the ride earlier in the day. He observed the agony of his nephew and sought to console the weary warrior. “My words were meant to inspire you to become greater, not to tear you down. Though it sounds like criticism to want you to be greater, you have lost sight of the fact I am acknowledging you are great already. From your account, Hugon did the bulk of his damage before you ever engaged him in battle. Perhaps you could have ended the melee more quickly but I doubt  

Miri’s condition would have been much better. You are not to blame for this situation. I see now my lesson, which was intended to make you aspire to be better, only sewed the seed of guilt in your mind. For that I am sorry and wish I could take back those words.

“You are, however, dwelling on the negative. Had you not gone back for her, to keep your promise, she would most assuredly be dead. Whatever happens from this point forward, you did save her life. You are an honorable man and I am proud to call you my nephew. Only such a man as you would have been chosen for the Red Sapphire.”

Excerpt "Quest for the Red Sapphire"

Anvar lit his pipe and walked over to the rail.  “Many years ago, Dirk was building his business.  Items of great rarity were of particular interest to the blossoming middle class of Fraylic.  In his travels and dealings, he came into the ownership of the staff I hold before you.  Though quite ordinary in appearance, it had some sort of life within it.  He said the staff was, In fact, a living being!  In some way, it communicated with your father.  It claimed to be part of a puzzle which would lead the one who solved it to find the Red Sapphire.”

“Please tell me you are not referring to the all-powerful magic gem of father’s bedtime stories?” Linvin asked in disbelief.

Anvar was indignant.  “You said you would listen.  Do you want to hear this or not?”  Linvin held out the palm of his hand in a apologetic gesture and inclined his head as he waited for the story to continue.

Anvar stared angrily at his nephew for a moment before drawing on his pipe and picking up his story.  “The staff told Dirk that there were other parts to the puzzle.  More importantly, it told him that the Red Sapphire had chosen whom it wanted to use its power next.  It chose Dirk’s son, Linvin Grithinshield.

“To have the gem would give you unimaginable power.  That power was to be used to fight the spread of the evil that infests our world.  The problem Dirk saw was that you were still a boy.  Any education he could give you would only help you run a business, not safeguard the world.

“You needed to be prepared, trained and hardened.  The best place to train you was in Valia with Sedemihcra.  He alone possessed the volume of wisdom needed to one day handle the power destined for you.

“Jelena could not have been more opposed to the plan.  She had her own aspirations for you, as you know.  Sending you away, to the other side of the continent, seemed ludicrous to her.  In spite of her acute displeasure, your father did what he thought had to be done and sent you away.

“While you were gone, he continued the search for the other parts of the puzzle.  Dirk thought that he could find the Red Sapphire and then send for you to return home.  After several years, he traded for this key.”  Anvar took a gold chain from around his neck.  Dangling at its bottom was a brilliant golden skeleton key.  He handed it to Linvin and continued to speak.

“There was one final piece he said he needed before calling for your return.  During his inquiries about it, Dirk came to suspect that he was not the only party looking for the pieces he had and sought.  The other mysterious bidder was believed to be very powerful and possessed limitless resources.  It became a great concern to your father, but even that concern was not enough to ebb his obsession with his goal.  After many years, he told me that he had found what he sought in Ravensburg.  It was his intention to travel there and return within six months.

“I cautioned him about setting out alone to make the trip.  Your father, however, would not hear of letting anyone in on his plans.  His instructions to me were to guard the key and staff while he was gone and look after your mother.  Should he not return, I would be her only protection.  He left on his journey and was never heard from again.

“When your mother and I determined that he was not coming back, we began to suspect foul play.  There was a break-in at the store in which nothing was taken, but the office was obviously searched.  Besides that, my movements and those of your mother were watched by dark figures in the shadows.  Dirk’s trip looked to have been a trap.  Someone wanted the staff and key.

“Jelena thought I was wrong about my conclusions and decided to bring you home to run the business.  I let her know I had great concerns about doing that.  If Dirk had indeed been killed for the staff and key, the murderer would next target his family.  By bringing you back into the fold, I felt that the wrongdoer would be spurred to action.  The close confines of all the possible targets meant the time would be ripe to strike and find what they sought.  Jelena, as it turned out, was just as stubborn as Dirk.  She forbade me from speaking of the topic with you.  In her mind, the whole foolish quest had died with your father, and if the danger was gone, there was no reason for her son to stay away any longer.

“As you now are aware, the threat was not gone.  Jelena was targeted by someone very professional and slowly given poison in some form.  We only discovered that the illness was inflicted intentionally at the very end.

“Realizing her errors in judgment, she sent for me.  We decided that the killer could not be allowed to gain the staff and key your mother still concealed.  You and I would be their next targets.  The only choice was for me to bring you these items and both of us set out in search of the Red Sapphire.

“Sergeant Hugon...these are the Elves taken prisoner at the river crossing,” the Human Captain stated as he dropped a rolled scroll on the table. “They are not to be mistreated.”

Hugon angrily opened the document and struggled to read its contents. Then he began to laugh. Moving the parchment over to a lantern on the desk, he set the orders ablaze. “That’s what I think of your orders. I do as I please with my prisoners.”

The Captain drew his sword. Hugon stood quickly and took hold of his club. The other goblins in the tower drew their weapons and rallied behind the Sergeant. In spite of the insurmountable odds against him, the Captain held his position.

“I want you to acknowledge you have taken custody of the prisoners,” the Captain said with his blade pointed directly at Hugon’s heart. “You will be accountable for any deviation of the orders from this point forth.”

The Goblin Master snorted and answered, “I have them now, Human. Now be about your business. I wouldn’t want you to get your pretty uniform dirty.”

The Captain looked at the jailor with disdain and sheathed his weapon. “Goblin scum,” he branded as he turned and left.

After the Captain exited, the gates were closed and Hugon turned his attention to Linvin and his family. Using one hand for each, he picked up the twins by the chest and examined them. “So these are the Dangerous Elves that everyone fears?

“Ha.” Hugon threw them aside and looked at the others. “I presume you are Anvar Greenlith. The paper said you were not to be unchained under any conditions. Seems you’re some sort of Magician or somethin’. You look mighty old for anyone to be scared of you.” He shoved Anvar to the ground and stepped on him with his foot. “I could just squash you like a worm. You’re nothin’ but a feeble old elf.” He began to slowly press down on Anvar with his foot.

Linvin could not stand the sight. “Leave him alone, Gutter-Rat,” Linvin cried angrily.

Hugon removed his foot from Anvar and turned his attention to Linvin. With two fists full of Linvin’s shirt, Hugon lifted him into the air and drew his face close. The great elf was weak and sick but still stubborn. He stared straight back at the monstrous creature.

“So you’re the little half-breed that has everyone so upset. You look pretty harmless to me. Kind of like a bug. I guess maybe them Humans is afraid of bugs?” The other goblins started laughing.

Linvin replied. “You must be the pathetic Goblin Pet your Human Masters chose to guard the mean, nasty little Elves. What a sad commentary on you. So scared of us are you that you need to keep us shackled. I do not blame you though. Slaughtering all those goblins in the Territory was quite easy and actually a good deal of fun for us. I would be scared of us too.”

Hugon threw Linvin against the wall and turned to the goblins who traveled with the prison wagon. “They killed goblins?”

“At least an entire patrol,” the shivering voice of one of them said.

Hugon was furious and quickly showed his displeasure by uncoiling his whip. Without a thought he began to lash Linvin with vigor. “You want to play games with me, Boy?” Hugon shouted as the thick leather tore through Linvin’s clothes. The victim curled into a ball to protect his face. Unrestrained, the leather sliced through his skin with ease and did not stop until it struck bone.

“How do you like that?” Hugon screamed as the other goblins cheered his torture of Linvin. “I think I’ll give you one lash for every goblin you’ve killed. If there’s anything left of you after that, I’ll show you the lower levels where we can really have some fun.”

Linvin watched his tormentor closely. When the whip headed his way again Linvin held up his shackles and let it wrap itself around the chain. Then he grabbed the weapon and pulled it from the goblin’s hand. “I am Linvin Grithinshield,” he said from his knees. “No one puts leather to me and lives.”

Being Gullible

Some people in this world are just gullible.  I mean no offence.  I happen to be one of them.  Particularly when I was young I fell for every story or trick my brothers could come up with.  I believed my brother who told me Bruce Lee was poisoned because he was too fast to shoot with bullets.  Then there was the time he convinced me to try almond extract straight from the bottle.  He poured it on a tablespoon and I smelled it.  It smelled alright to me so I swallowed it.  That was a rude awakening.  Then I was convinced to run speaker wires through the wall in order to place speakers in my room.  That way I could listen to my brother’s stereo.  Soon the morning came when he placed a speaker on either side of my bed while I was sleeping.  Then he turned off the sound to those speakers until the chorus of the song when Peter Gabriel screamed, “Lord, here comes the flood!” I nearly jumped on the ceiling.  When watching the “Lone Ranger” I noticed he never seemed to run out of silver bullets.  So, I asked where he received them from.  I was told he got them from his “mine.”  What heard was “mind.”  So, I asked my brother how he could get bullets out of his mind?  He told me he stuck his finger in one ear and the bullet came out the other.  That’s why he never ran out of bullets.  When I was grown I worked with an abrupt fellow with what sounded like a New York accent.  We didn’t talk much.  So, I asked another associate what his deal was.  He told me the fellow was in the Witness Relocation Program and that no one knew his whole story.  I believed that for 6 years.  Until I talked with him and he gave me a plausible explanation.  There is a silver lining to all this.  I am now extremely skeptical.  If an email looks at all suspicious, I delete it immediately.  Regular mail scams also go in the garbage.  As a rule, I don’t believe people’s stories.  If I ever won a trip or a car I would never know because I delete those messages.  I am still gullible but I have developed a hard-protective crust.  It’s lonely not trusting people but it beats getting burned.

Excerpt, "Quest for the Red Sapphire"

“Messenger!” Linvin called as he entered the camp.  “Take word to the King.  Send this message.  ‘Engaged Marsh Goblins as anticipated.  Enemy utterly destroyed.  Valian losses light.  Will march to capital within the week.  Borders are safe.’  Sign it, ‘Grithinshield, Commanding General.’  Get that off right away.  There are tens of thousands of frightened people waiting for news.”

Linvin and the others passed many open fires with fresh beef and pork roasting, continuing on to his command tent.  Upon entering the tent and leaving view, they collapsed.  Squires attended each of them.  They removed all their masters’ armor and soiled clothing.  Linvin passed out wine from his private stock to celebrate.

Fardar was attended as well.  He was shocked as the squire disrobed him and washed his body of the vile, pungent goblin blood that had stained his clothes black.  “These will have to be discarded,” the squire told him.  “Goblin blood does not wash out of clothing.”

Fardar observed the others in the room.  Linvin’s arm was being stitched and dressed.  It was a far more severe blow than he had acknowledged.

Sculla had been stabbed in the thigh and sliced on his arm.  He, too, was receiving treatment.

Victolin appeared unharmed and healthy until his armor was removed and he held his ribs.  His right side was deeply bruised and bleeding.

Only Githara looked to have escaped without a scratch.  She looked at Victolin and asked, “Was it an ax that hit you?”

He winced in pain, while lifting his arm to allow a bandage to be applied.  “A heavy mace.  I cut down one of their War Chief’s bodyguards and another struck my exposed side, knocking me off my horse.  Fortunately, one of my men cut him down immediately thereafter.”

“What happened to you, Sculla?” Linvin asked.

“Stupid, really,” he replied.  “When the line was advancing, this pathetic remnant of a swamp dweller reached up and stuck me in the leg with one of those cheap sickle swords.  Made me furious!  So I stomped his head.  Wretched, filthy, disgusting little lizard!”

The squire attending him finished cleaning the wound and prepared to stitch it closed.  “If you had not pulled the sword out by yourself, the wound would not be so large.”

“The blade was getting in my way!” yelled Sculla as he shoved the attendant away.  “This stable boy acts like he was the one who was stabbed.”

“Easy, Stump,” Linvin consoled his friend.  “I think he is just frustrated with your disregard for your body.”

“Well, it’s my body!” Sculla snorted.  “I’m here to fight, not compete in a beauty contest.”

“We’re all glad of that,” Victolin joked.  “You’d make an uglier woman than Githara.”

Githara lashed out quickly at the insult and kicked Victolin on his injured side.  Victolin howled in pain.  “You’re mistaken for a woman far more than I am for a man,” she said.

“Enough, children,” Linvin said, gesturing downward with his hand.  “We do not need another fight today.”  They were in many ways like the siblings he had never known.

Once their wounds had been tended and they were all adorned in scarlet robes, the meeting broke up.  Githara and Victolin left to check their units.  Fardar left to prepare his report.  Entering the tent as they left was a centurion.

Excerpt "Sapphire Crucible"

Hanging near the stairs by Linvin was a vast array of whips and chains of varying length and thickness. A torture rack was prominently displayed in the center of the floor. It was there Miri lay, chained and stretched on all her limbs. Her clothing was tattered and bloodied by clear markings of flogging. Her left eye had taken a powerful blow and was swollen closed. Blood ran down her face and pooled on the table beneath her. So saturated was the wood on the rack from previous victims the fluid would not absorb. Thus, her hair so golden blond once before, had changed to blood red.

Linvin hugged the inside wall of the stairwell to stay out of sight as he attempted to set aside his rage and locate his enemy. It was not long before Hugon came into view wearing black linens. He bore an iron gauntlet on his right hand covered with fresh blood from Miri. He had just pulled the wheels at the top and bottom of the rack tighter. The act stretched his victim further and pressed her back more firmly against spikes rising higher from the board with every turn.

He stepped over to Miri and grasped her by the hair. “You are stronger than I gave you credit for being. Many have begged for death by now, yet you will tell me nothing.”

Miri spit blood out of her mouth and yelled, “I told you I do not know any of the answers to your questions.”

Hugon wound up his arm and slammed the gauntlet into her exposed side. “Ooooh,” he said in delight. “I know that one hurt. I heard a rib crack. Why are you protecting Romadon so fiercely? Your armies have beaten us every time we invaded. Nothing you could tell me would hurt their defenses that much. There is no need for you to keep suffering. Tell me what I want to know and I will end your life quickly. If you insist on testing my patience, I will make what you have suffered so far feel like a holiday.”

“For the last time,” Miri yelled, “I know nothing about the army. Do your worst and have this over with.” Hugon chuckled as he removed the gauntlet. “You have just made my day better, Little Princess. First, I will use the white-hot metal tongs from the pit to rip your nose from your face. Now most people drown in their own blood but I hope you hold on. Then I will pull every toe and finger off one at a time. If you live through that, I will raise the spikes that now are only pricking you to a much more suitable height. Then I will lower a stone block on top of the remainder of your body and let it push the nails clean through your flesh. Once you are dead I will cut you into pieces for delivery back to your father. This will be a treat.”

Hugon turned toward the hearth to fetch the blistering tongs. A sudden crack was heard in the air and a long whip sliced though the jailor’s shirt and dug deeply in a diagonal pattern across his back. He yelped in pain and turned hurriedly. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Linvin with whip in hand.

“I told you no one puts leather to me and lives,” Linvin bellowed. “I will now fulfill that pledge.”

“Grithinshield?” Hugon said as he stepped closer. “You were supposed to be dead by now.”

“That is quite ironic when you think about it,” Linvin said as he stuck Hugon in the face with the whip. “Since it is now time for you to die.”

Appreciating Our Gifts

Being a writer, you sometimes take little things for granted.  In my case I think little about my sight.  Now, I’m not talking about my bifocals.  I’m referring to the ability to see at all.  To be blind would end my love of writing.  Fortunately, I don’t have that problem.  Yesterday, however, I was talking with my oldest brother who has had Type 1 diabetes since age 9.  Among his health problems is diabetic retinopathy.  His sight slowly diminished until his current state of blindness.  He was once a published writer of poetry.  He had to give it up when his sight deteriorated.  It makes me realize how lucky I am to have my sight so I can continue with my passion for writing.  Every day there are so many simple things we take for granted like walking, talking, eating, hearing and sleeping in an ordinary bed.  I’m not preaching here but I think most of us have a lot to be thankful for.  Sadly, many of us, including me, concentrate instead on what ails us.  I bet my brother would switch medical problems with me in a heartbeat.

Interview

Today I have the honor of being interviewed on “Carol Ann Kauffman’s Vision & Verse” blog. It’s a chance to better know me and my writing style. Check it out at https://visionandverse.blogspot.com/

Excerpt, "Quest for the Red Sapphire"

The second man answered. “My name is of no consequence here, but yours is Dirk Grithinshield. I suppose you would have preferred to do business in your sizable store in the merchant district, but I find this setting more to my liking.”

“Your odds are better as well,” Dirk commented dryly.  “You can tell your men surrounding me to come out.  We are alone, and I already know where they are hiding.”

“You are mistaken,” the man said halfheartedly.  “The agreement was that we each come alone.”

“Indeed, that was the arrangement,” Dirk confirmed.  “You can tell that I have not been followed.  However, I can see the breath of your men hiding there, there, there and there.”  Dirk pointed at places in a circle around him.  “It makes me wonder if you have kept your word on the rest of our bargain.”

The man waved, then four armed men stepped out of the shadows and moved closer to Dirk. “You’re observant, Grithinshield.  I’ll give you that.”

Dirk sighed in a tone that suggested that the situation did not surprise him in the least.  “I could inquire further about your expected deception, but I want this transaction to be over with as soon as possible.  Do you have the key I seek?”

The man was angered that his actions were anticipated and that they had not intimidated Dirk as he had hoped.  “I have the key, but I didn’t hear any coins jingle as you were walking.  That makes me wonder if you have the money on which we agreed.”

“I am quite prepared for you, good sir,” Dirk answered.  “The money is close by. Now, since you appear to have me at a disadvantage, and I am the one who has kept his word so far, you will show me what I am purchasing first.”

The man scowled and produced a golden key from his pocket.  Begrudgingly, he tossed it to the waiting right hand of Grithinshield. Dirk ran his fingers down its length and looked at its handle in detail.  Then, he tossed it back to the man who caught it in midair in an effort to defend his face.

“That is a poor attempt at a forgery,” Dirk said sternly.  “Not only is the key warped, but you can see a glimpse of the iron underneath, where it was held as it was dipped in a coating.  The key I seek is solid gold.  Your credibility is dwindling by the moment and I am mildly annoyed.  Show me the real key, if you have it, or you will not see a single gold pharring.”

The man became angrier, but not being a fool, he had to give Dirk his due.    Reaching into another pocket, he produced a different key and threw it to Dirk as his men closed their range.  Dirk again caught it with his right hand and looked it over as before.  He spent more time examining it than the first key.  “Exquisite,” he noted.  “The craftsmanship is as fine as any forgery I have ever seen.  Whoever made this for you should be commended.”

The man became furious.  “Are you calling me a liar?”

Dirk tossed the key back and answered.  “You just heard every word I said and at no time did I call you a liar.  I merely stated that this is a forgery.  The good news is that it is an exact casting of the original key.  That means you or whoever made that have or had the real one at some point.  My guess is that you have at least one more buyer in line and that you seek to maximize your profits.  It is a bold plan, but one which will not work on me.  Now I will ask you one last time.  Toss me the real key or I leave and you get nothing.”

Twitter Stalkers

At first, Twitter seemed so simple.  You follow someone, they follow you back and you’re able to see each other’s posts.  It seemed harmless enough.  I began the habit of following back most of the people who followed me.  I figured, “This person might like what I write and buy a book.”  Lately though I’ve been getting a lot of follows from young women.  I was glad because that was an audience I wasn’t sure I was reaching.  My happiness was short-lived.  I started getting direct messages asking personal questions.  Was I looking for love?  Was I married?  Was I interested in getting married?  What kinds of girls did I like? Some wanted a serious relationship and others wanted…something less serious.  I used to get these once in a while but now they’re coming every day in increasing numbers.  Did I get on some sort of list?  Maybe I followed the wrong person back and everyone is copying their friends list.  One thing’s for sure; these women aren’t interested in books!  I am happily married with three children, two dogs and a cat who doesn’t like me.  Now I’m afraid to follow people back on Twitter.  From some of the guys I’m getting sent scams.  “The government will pay you $40,000 to write a book.  I got mine.  I can get you in touch with the guy to get you yours.”  Or then there’s “I’m a Marine on a peacekeeping mission and I need you to wire me some money.”  Maybe I’m paranoid but it all seems fishy to me.  It’s getting to the point where I don’t know who to follow back.  I guess I’ll go with my gut and hope this cycles off.

Linvin ducked low and ran with speed and stealth. His goal was to reach the place where the search parties would join before they arrived. He made good time and reached his goal just ahead of the torches. Then he laid down flat on the ground close to the plants and covered himself with dried leaves from the stalks. Next he had to calm his breathing. It was a tactic he’d been taught as a scout during his youth in Valia. By the time the searchers came together, Linvin was camouflaged and silent.

A bright light shined over him and he thought for a moment he’d been discovered. Through his disguise he saw a Mandrean Goblin Soldier walk so close he nearly stepped on Linvin’s head. The soldier, however, had his eyes to the front where the others were gathering and paid no attention to the pile on leaves at his feet.

Several rows over all the soldiers were coming together and trampling down a grand area of corn to make room for their numbers. More and more goblins arrived until Linvin could no longer keep count.

When their number had all gathered in a circle, one called out. “Has anyone found anything?” A chorus of voices began to clamor in response. Though it was difficult for Linvin to pick out any particular voice he could hear all the answers were in the negative. After a few moments the first voice yelled, “Silence. We have been following some fresh tacks headed south. They could be the escaped prisoners we seek or they could be some farmers out trying to protect their corn from animals feeding overnight. Regardless, that is our best lead right now. So that is the path we will follow.”

“This is madness,” one of the goblins called to him. “Even if the tracks are from them, they could be right next to us and we would never see them. We should go back to the barracks and try fresh in the morning.”

“Perhaps that is how you do things in your Company,” the first voice said. “In mine, we follow the trail until it goes cold.” An argument ensued and the bickering spread to all the goblins.

Linvin’s opportunity had arrived. He waited for the goblins to begin shoving one another and then made his move. Emerging from his pile of leaves, Linvin crouched and watched the action not more than five rows away. He spied a window through the rows where he had a clear view of the action. Then he looked to the right and found another. Removing a stone from his pocket, he took great care in aiming. He flicked the rock through the air with a snap from his wrist. It passed through the corn and hit a goblin on his fingers holding a torch. The goblin shouted in pain and dropped the flaming stick. His cry went unnoticed among those fighting around his position.

When the flame contacted the dry stalks, however, the fuel combusted quickly and began to spread. Linvin wasted no time picking a target on the other side and again struck the hand holding the torch. As before, the flame hit the ground and ignited the overlapping kindling. With his work done, Linvin stayed low and ran for the hedgerow. He did not look back until he reached cover. When he finally turned to view his handiwork, he smiled with satisfaction. The fire had become substantial before the mass of soldiers realized they had fires on both sides that were spreading. With the flames leaping from one row to the next it was impossible for the goblins to try to contain. They broke ranks in terror and ran in every direction. Some had unknowingly caught fire and were spreading it across the field as they ran.

“Glorious.” Anvar commented.

“They do not even know what happened,” Linvin said as he took to his saddle. “Now is our moment. Burst onto the road and ride east with all the speed these horses have left.”

“Won’t the goblins see us?” Bander asked.

Linvin took his place in the lead and answered. “No. When it is dark and you stare at a bright flame your vision becomes restricted for a short time. You lose the ability to see in the darkness. Make sure not to look at the blaze. While they run from the flames, we will ride invisibly out of danger. Now, go as fast as you can.”

It's Hot!

I think the heat is getting to me.  Here in Nebraska we’ve been in the 90s for over a week now and there’s no sign of it letting up.  I stay in the air conditioning as much as I can but you have to go outside at some point.  A good number of you in the United States and Canada are experiencing the same heat wave I am.  The meteorologists say it all has something to do with the jet stream.  To be honest, until I reached high school I thought the jet stream referred to either the path jet planes took or those stainless-steel travel trailers (Airstreams).  Turns out I was way off base. The jet stream travels from west to east and dictates who gets cool air and who gets hot air.  It just depends on what side of it you are on.  Right now, it’s starting really far to the southwest and then soars up the Rockies and into Canada before continuing east.  I talked to my sister in Toronto, Ontario and she confirmed the heat was miserable there as well.  Now I’m having this craving for ice cream every single day.  I don’t know why.  I don’t usually eat ice cream.  It’s like the heat has triggered some gene in my body to greatly desire ice cream.  Soft serve is particularly appealing.  I’ve tried to curb the craving by eating yogurt or cottage cheese.  It’s just not the same.  Oh, well.  It could be worse.  There are hazardous things to your health I could want. For now, I will fight this obsession but give in to it occasionally.

Excerpt, "Quest for the Red Sapphire"

As the men made a tight circle around the general, one brought his face right before Linvin’s and said, “We are the ones who took this nation from a bunch of farmers and fishermen to the foremost trading nation in the world.  We are the envy of the world.  So don’t think a victory such as yours gives you the right to come in here and insult us, General.  Heroes come and go, but noblemen always remain.”

Linvin’s first thought was to thrash the fat bureaucrat to near death, but he showed restraint in his muscles that did not carry over to his lips.

“You are skilled businessmen, to be sure.  However, your ears are so accustomed to listening for the sound of dropping coins that they do not recognize common sense.  For years I have told you that the army was too small.  For years I have warned that a serious invasion was on the horizon, yet my warnings and petitions to raise a larger army were ignored.  We had a tremendous amount of time to prepare over the years, yet the army actually shrank.”

“No one wanted to join the army!” yelled one of the men.  “Why take time from the monetary pursuits to become a soldier?  There’s little profit in it.”

“And who would join the army?” asked another.  “Between the merchant ships, navy, and farms, we hardly have enough people to do the work.  We cannot afford to waste manpower in the army.”

“Waste!” Linvin yelled.  “What waste would have befallen this country if I had failed?  Every man, woman and child would have been slaughtered.  Homes and fields would be burned.  Any survivors would have become slaves.  Now you call preventing such a thing a waste of manpower?”

“You argue against yourself,” a nobleman said.  “You proved us right.  All this time you have asked for more men and yet you had ample forces to complete your task.  You are an anomaly, my good general.”

“And how many men fell, who would have lived, if there had been reinforcements?” Linvin asked.  “How many more would have lived if they had not had to fight 3 days without rest?  How many would have lived if we could have permitted the enemy to withdraw, rather than risking everything to destroy them utterly.  The number is not known.  What is known is that there would still be an army protecting this country instead of the few who still breathe.”

“Quiet your tongue!” snapped a nobleman.  “You say too much!  You see everything as black and white when there is an obvious gray area.  Even if reinforcements were available, you have no idea of the cost associated with their hire and training.   Those are costs, boy, that you do not see but we must live with.  Think about that the next time you forget your place!”

The king hung his head and covered his eyes.  A line had been crossed and the other side would be ugly.

Linvin was pushed too far.  His eyes caught fire when hearing his new title.  In one quick movement, he grabbed the man by the throat with a single hand and lifted him off his feet.  Linvin drew him close with ease.

“Now listen to me, you pompous, arrogant sack of flesh,” Linvin said in a firm monotone.  “Your life exists under the freedom I provide.  Your words dictate that I remove that freedom.”  Linvin’s hand began to squeeze.

“That is enough!” the king ordered.  “Linvin, release him at once.”

Excerpt, "Sapphire Crucible"

The spectacle revolved around the combatants on the sand. A young man of great stature stood in the center of the circle. Standing taller than Mandrean, sweat rolled down his chiseled bare chest. Holding a wooden sword with both hands, he gasped for air to accommodate his excessive exertion.

On either side of the boy were Imperial Guards who also bore no armor. They were identifiable by their uniforms. Similar swords were in their hands. The one directly before the boy jerked to the side and then lunged at him. Spinning out of the way, the boy was struck in the arm by an attack from the soldier behind.

“Sloppy,” yelled the old man. “Acreas you must anticipate the attack. See it before it comes.”

Acreas rubbed his bicep where the strike had fallen and yelled back. “Master, he was behind me. How can I see something if my head is turned the other way?”

“I cannot see anything in that circle but I knew it was coming,” the old man scolded. “Seeing is not only with your eyes. True sight is in the mind. Use that sight and you will be victorious. Ignore it and you will die.”

Angered but undeterred, Acreas re-engaged his opponents. He struck at one and forced him on his heels. Then he turned around and parried a low strike from the second man. While he was successful at blocking the sword, Acreas failed to realize the intention of the attack was merely to leave his body defenseless. The soldier immediately punched him in the face and sent the towering youngling to the ground. Before Acreas could collect himself, the soldier stabbed his sword into the sand by the boy’s head. “Kill,” the soldier cried.

Acreas stared at the victor with furious anger. For his part, the soldier looked unimpressed. He held out his hand to help his victim to his feet. The boy took his hand and regained his footing. As soon as the soldier turned around, however, Acreas struck the pommel of his sword into the back of the man’s head. The blow staggered the soldier but did little more than earn his wrath.

Slapping the sword out of the way, the soldier again connected his fist with Acreas’ face. For his part, the boy returned the attack and the two were quickly wrestling on the ground. The other soldier took a drink from a bucket of water and happily watched the entertainment.

The old man struck his cane on the ground. “Enough,” he yelled. Both men respected the statement and separated. “Acreas, you allowed pride to motivate your attack. That is never wise. Then you attacked him in a dishonorable way. That is never acceptable.”

“Well there is more than one way to fight, Master,” Acreas snipped.

“Yes,” said the master. “There is the right way and the wrong way. You are clearly demonstrating the wrong way.”

“It works for me,” said Acreas.

“If that is true, my student, then why are you the one with all the bruises. You do not use your mind and you fight with no honor.”

“Honor?” scoffed the pupil. “Where is the honor in fighting two against one?”

The master shook his head. “I am not training you to fight duals. I am training you to reach your potential as an elite warrior. Such men rarely see odds stacked in their favor.”

“There was no honor in his punching me in the face?” noted Acreas. “I see no difference in our actions yet you do not chastise him.”

“He struck you in the midst of battle,” the Master answered. “You attacked him after the match was decided. Only a coward would do such a thing. I do not train cowards. You will change your ways or your training will end.”

Mood Music

People will ask me what my favorite song is.  In truth, I don’t have one.  It’s a lot like asking you what your favorite food is.  It changes with your tastes at the current time.  I like different songs when I’m happy, sad, angry, depressed, driving during the day, driving during the night, with my wife, with my kids, and so on.  Songs can affect your mood as well.  For example, if I’m in a really awesome mood I don’t want to hear Phil Collin’s “In the Air Tonight.”  It’s a great song but a total buzz-kill.  Likewise; if I’m down I might want to listen to Bob Marley’s “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright.”  It’s hard to be in a bad mood when listening to reggae.  In general, though, I think we, as humans, like to match the mood of our music to our mood at the moment.  Whatever the fire is that’s burning within us at a particular time; we like to feed it more of the same.  If your happy, some Beach Boys never hurt.  If someone does you wrong, “In the Air Tonight” is sounding pretty good.  Music plays a big part in many of our lives.  That’s great.  Just don’t let it control your life.  You choose your mental state.  Don’t let music choose it for you.

Excerpt, "Quest for the Red Sapphire"

It was at that moment of uncertainty that Linvin and his cavalry attacked from the rear along the entire line.  The goblins were so preoccupied with the happenings in front of them that they paid no heed to the cavalry in the rear forming a line along the length of their formation.  Bewildered goblins never saw the strikes coming that cut them down.  The phalanx was so tightly packed that Linvin’s troops could not miss.

Linvin struck like thunder with his long sword.  He slashed to his right and then his left, dropping goblins with each stroke.  As quickly as he could swing his sword, he would kill another.

Linvin was not alone in his success.  His cavalry cut deep swaths into the rear goblin ranks.  The cavalry maintained their line and did not get too far ahead of each other in order to avoid being surrounded.

The discipline observed among the goblins seemed to bleed away in the chaos.  Indecision took center stage.  Due to the close formation, they could not turn to fight without dropping their pikes, but without their pikes, they would be at a great disadvantage to the horsemen.  It led to carnage on an unprecedented scale, courtesy of Linvin’s cavalry.

Indecision gave way to panic as the majority of what was once a phalanx dropped their spears and drew their melee weapons.  Rather than continue to be attacked from behind, they chose to turn and fight as best they could.

The change in tactics could not have come at a better time at the shield-wall.  The front line had collapsed and Sculla’s men were on the verge of being routed.  With most of the pikes discarded, there was at last a moment to hasten fresh troops to the line and reform the wall.  Personally taking the lead, Sculla ordered an advance.  They marched with their wall intact to the front of the goblin line and engaged.

The cavalry was meeting with more fierce resistance with the change of weapons.  Their progress slowed and they began to take losses.

Linvin was striking more swords then armor as his enemy rallied.  At least one goblin had kept his spear.  He struck Linvin’s horse with a killing blow.  The steed stood on its hind legs and then fell to its side.

Linvin was thrown to the ground with his sword and shield flying from his hands.  His helmet fell forward, covering his eyes.  With a swipe of his forearm he knocked the helmet off.

A goblin stood above Linvin with his sword in hand.  He was ready to strike.  Linvin propped his arm in front of him and braced for the blow.  Nothing happened.  Linvin looked again and saw a blade erupt from the goblin’s chest before he felt to the ground.  Left standing behind the body was an astonished Fardar.

Anniversary

It was 61 years ago today.  61 years ago, my parents both said “I do” before witnesses and God.  Sadly, neither of them lived to see this day.  But I have no doubt in my mind that they would still be together. They would take a drive on their anniversary to the same drive -in diner they went to when they were dating.  My father was never one for fancy restaurants.  He was never much of a romantic either.  On the night of their wedding they reached the hotel and he started emptying his pockets.  Out came electrical component after component.  He said, “I can’t believe I have 3 days off to start work on our new Hi-Fi set.  You can hold the pieces while I work.”  How they ended up with so many children, I’ll never know.  My mother was the only woman I’ve known who would get mad when her husband bought her flowers.  She always said, “It’s a waste of money.  They’re just going to die in a few days anyway.  And one rose means just as much as 12.”  That one ember of romanticism in dad was snuffed out. When he proposed it was typical Dad. He sat on the sofa next to my mother and pulled out a ring box.  Handing it to here he simply said, “Here.”  She opened it up to see a college class ring from his school.  Mom asked, “What does this mean?”  Dad was tongue-tied and did not speak for several minutes.  Then he said, “Well; do you want to get married or not?”  As it turns out, my father didn’t ride the bus to class at the University of Toronto all winter and had only a light jacket against the frigid wind blowing off Lake Ontario.  He did that so he could save and buy the best ring he could afford; his class ring.  Mom didn’t know the story behind it but to her it may as well have been the Hope Diamond.  She eagerly accepted and the rest, as they say, is history.  They shared an unbreakable love which only mortality could separate.  I’m coming up on my 26^th year anniversary and hope know my love will always be there for me.

Excerpt, "Sapphire Crucible"

Suddenly there was a crack from a whip causing Linvin to drop the knife and grab his hand in order to try to stop the bleeding from the fresh wound. In a moment, Hugon stood before their cage.

“Don’t try to grow brains in here, Boy. There is no escape from my dungeon. Even a stupid half-breed like you should be able to figure that out.”

Linvin clenched the bars with his bloody fist and stared Hugon in the eyes. “Your time is coming, Ogre. When I find my way out of here you will wish you had killed me.”

Linvin believed Hugon was ready to respond but apparently noticed something cold and piercing in Linvin’s eyes. The half-elf’s expression seemed to terrify him. Linvin could tell in Hugon’s cowardly heart he felt the sincerity of the prisoner’s words and despaired. In what Linvin viewed as a clear attempt to hide his weakness he punched Linvin in the face with all his strength. Linvin held onto the bars in order to retain his balance. It was a crushing blow. Other than a wince, however, Linvin retained the same expression.

Stepping back, Hugon readied his whip. “I’ll teach you not to look at me.”

Linvin calmly stepped away from the bars and sat in the middle of the cell with his legs crossed. Hugon cracked the whip but it only caught on the bars.

“Trouble?” Linvin asked sarcastically. “You know if you grew a brain out there you might have realized the bars were too narrow for the whip to penetrate. I guess the joke is on you.”

Hugon’s fury made his body shake. “You will die for this,” he said under his breath. “Magician or no Magician.”

Linvin stood and laughed at the giant. “You are incapable of killing me, you pathetic blob of dough. You and your entire breed are utterly worthless. Do shuffle back to your little desk like a good slave.”

The Jailor had heard enough. Hugon reached for his keys and sifted through them quickly to find the right one.  

Meanwhile Bander and Rander caught on to Linvin’s ploy and moved to the two sides of the cage.

Hugon found the key and headed for the door. Just as he reached it the loud sound of armor was heard coming up the stairs. It was the guards returning with the slaves. Seeing them enter, Hugon put the keys away and said, “The day will come when that pint-sized sorcerer won’t need you any longer. Then I’ll peel the flesh from your broken bones so slowly that you’ll wish I would just end it, Boy.”

“Until that day,” Linvin responded. “Do try to show us a little more courtesy. I would hate for Necromancer to incinerate you before we meet again.”

The Great Goblin turned and headed down the stairs. The ploy had been successful, but only in making Hugon more determined to kill Linvin.

Developing Characters

Developing a character is not as easy as it sounds.  It is a very important step in a story.  People want to see growth in the character. It is something that peeks interest in the reader.  Let me show you what I mean with an example from my books.  Bander Greenlith is; at heart, a simple elf. He does not think for himself because his brother Rander does his thinking for him.  If Rander says to hate Linvin then he will hate Linvin.  Bander’s only real concern is having a full belly.  At the beginning of the story, Bander doesn’t think twice about following Rander’s orders.  As time goes by, however, Bander begins to see how he is being used and it annoys him.  He starts to rebel against Rander.  By the end of the story, he is totally independent in his thinking.  As a reader you see the change and actually begin to root for him.  Even the main character Linvin changes.  At the start he loathes the brothers for their insubordinate reaction to him.  Linvin is used to leading an army where his orders are followed without question. On his quest he finds he must earn the party’s respect.  Linvin makes mistakes but overall proves to be a capable and worthy leader.  In a novel you must develop the characters to keep your audiences interest.  I have started reading many books I did not finish because the characters were stale.  It’s not enough to write a book.  You must keep the audience’s attention.  Keep this in mind when you write your own stories.

Excerpt, "Quest for the Red Sapphire"

The Count sighed, “Gredly had become increasingly brazen in the interest rates he offered the Kingdom.  They were outrageous rates.  He possessed the resources to make it difficult to find competitors.  My family, however, found alternate sources of financing from outside Sartan, eager to do business.  Gredly found himself without his largest debtor.  He was completely cut out of Sartanian government economics.  We had caught him by surprise.  By placing the Donivis in the Treasury, he assured himself of all the loans he could ever want from the government at any rate he might choose.  So really, he removed my family for both of the reasons you mentioned.”

Linvin leaned on his desk and blew a smoke ring.  “That fills some gaps in my information, but it is largely what I expected. My dear Count, I have a business proposition for you.  As a businessman, I hope that you will hear me out.”

Venicci smiled and said, “There is never harm in hearing a business proposal.  Please proceed.”

“My father was a great man.  This company has become so large that I doubt even he could have managed all the affairs he once did.  Furthermore, I plan to expand the company.  I have the capital, but I do not have the people to handle that capital.

“It is clear to me that the company’s system of handling finances is inadequate and an open invitation for impropriety.  For that reason, I plan to streamline the finances of my company.  I cannot afford to lose vendors over clerical errors, whether deliberate or accidental.

“I also need accountants whom I can trust.  If I were to disappear from the world, I would want the Grithinshield Trading Company to continue without missing a thing.

“In summary, Count Venicci, I want to hire you and your family to handle all of my company’s accounting.  You will see that every bill is paid in a timely fashion.  You will audit all books, including the stores.  Your family will monitor inventory and compare it to what the ledgers say we are supposed to have.  Buyers working for the company will also be subject to audits.

“Inasmuch as it was a matter of public record, I know how much your family earned for their former duties.  I am willing to pay you that figure, plus ten percent.”

The Count folded his arms and tilted his head as he looked at Linvin.  “That is an intriguing proposal, but my family has more wealth than we could spend in a lifetime.  Why would we bother running your assets?”

Linvin inched closer to his guest.  “In a word, pride.  Your clan has just been dishonored and has no use for their time.  You do not wish to sink all your resources into your own bank for fear of loss.  If you sit on your money, you will fade away into obscurity and Gredly will have beaten you.

“Now, consider what will happen when you accept my proposal.  You will be allied with the most powerful trading force in this country and one day, the world.  The Veniccis will hold a place of honor again, with arms that can stretch as far as your imagination will let them.  My company is the only one that can afford to pay what you deserve and the only company grand enough to deserve your services.”

Venicci nodded along.  “That is quite the sales pitch.  Dirk could not have done better had he been here, but there remains unanswered questions.  For example, why hire us?  If you are looking for a competent accountant, there are many far cheaper than my family.”

“You said it yourself,” Linvin answered.  “You do not need the money.  If I had a store full of food, I would not hire a starving man to guard it.

“My company will be run professionally, cleanly and in an orderly fashion.  There will be no payoffs, kickbacks, extortion, skimming, or any other similar behaviors tolerated by anyone in this company.  Having your unique family history, you have seen every trick ever invented.  You know all the angles.  Those games will not happen in my company.  You will see to that and root out corruption from within.”

Self-Esteem

Self-esteem is one of the hardest things to help someone with because it can only be generated by one’s self.  You see people with low self-esteem all the time. They’re usually in bad relationships that often incorporate abuse.  That abuse can come in the form of physical but more often verbal or mental abuse. The sad part is it can be a cycle with people. More often than not when people are brought up in abusive homes, they seek out that same sort of dismissive personality in their relationships. Even when they get out of an abusive relationship, many times they go right into another. I’ve watched it happen. They do this because they are conditioned to expect this sort of treatment. People with low self-esteem sometimes have problems accepting gifts or compliments. It’s just not something they’re used to. People with high self-esteem often keep it by doing things positive in their life that create a feeling of self-worth. It might be something as simple as mowing the lawn. It gives you a feeling of accomplishment. Personally, I am happiest when I’m writing. I’m putting words together that no other person could do exactly the same way. That gives me such a charge I can hardly contain myself. I love writing. It’s the best part of the entire publishing process. When I read over what I have written, I can only smile. I know that sounds vain, but I see no harm in taking pride in one’s work. That’s the answer to low self-esteem; pride. Too much pride can of course be a bad thing but there is no fault in taking pride in something you’ve accomplished. So; if you have a self-esteem problem, do something positive and meaningful. You’ll be surprised how much your behavior will improve as you add more positives to your life. That’s my take on it.

Round 2

Round 2 with the monster.  I’m sure some people have taken offence to my calling a puppy a monster.  Perhaps it would be different if it was my dog or my family dog but it’s not.  The monster belongs to my son who is “staying” with us for a while.  In the mean time the creature seems bound and determined to destroy my home.  No mater how much we take him outside, the beast urinates, defecates and chews random things in the house…including the other dogs!  Having dogs now and in the past a certain amount of this is to be expected.  This particular animal, however, seems obsessed with causing me grief.  My patience is being tried.  I try to pet him but he just bites me with his razor-sharp baby teeth which feel like a dozen needles penetrating my skin with force.  Still, we take him out on the hour to try to housebreak him.  The efforts have borne little fruit.  For now, I will tolerate the monster; though I see no visible improvement in his behavior.  What choice do I have?  Lynard Skynard once said, “Lord I can’t make any changes.  All I can do is write ‘em in a song…”  I can’t make a song, but I can sure write about it.

Excerpt, "Quest for the Red Sapphire"

“I am Sirca, Lord Grithinshield.  Mr. Elmsworth said you needed a scribe, so I am here to be of assistance.”

Linvin looked at Gradon and asked, “Do you trust him?”

“We have used the company he works for in the past and never had a problem,” Gradon answered.

“I asked you if you trust him!” Linvin said sternly.

Gradon and Sirca looked at each other sheepishly.  “Yes, I do,” Gradon answered.  “Your father used him in the past and never had a problem.”

Linvin addressed Sirca directly, “How much do you make where you are working now?”

“Well sir, I am paid by how often my services are needed.  In a good week I can make ten gold pharrings.”

Linvin stood with his face so close to Sirca’s that one could not fit a paper between them.  “That was probably only one week that you made that much, was it not?”

Sirca maintained eye contact and answered calmly, “Yes, sir.  Most weeks, I make about five to seven pharrings.”

Linvin’s angered expression turned into a smile.  “Bold, but with integrity.  I like that.  Good, now sit at that desk over there and take a letter.”  Sirca did as he was told.  “You will write your employer a letter of resignation.  You will now be the exclusive scribe to Linvin Grithinshield and the Grithinshield Trading Company.  As an employee of the Grithinshield Trading Company you will earn a salary of twenty gold pharrings each and every week regardless of the amount of work you do.  At the bottom, I suggest you sign your name.”

Sirca was speechless.  He looked at Gradon and then Linvin.  “But sir –”

“Do you accept?” Linvin asked forcefully.

“Yes,” answered Sirca, “but I must say, you could have a whole team of scribes for this price.  I dare say they may be better than me.  Why would you do this?”

Linvin sat in his father’s chair and lit his pipe.  “Because my father trusted you, Gradon trusts you and therefore I trust you.  I do not want a group of people around me whom I cannot trust. Much better a few that I can and do. Now, go take that to your employer and come right back.  I have many letters for you to write.”

Sirca was so excited that he did not know if he should bow or shake his hand.  After a moment of indecision he headed out the door.

“Oh, one last thing,” Linvin called after him.

Sirca meekly poked his head back in through the door.  “Yes, Mr. Grithinshield?” his quivering voice asked.

“You do understand the meaning of trust, do you not?” Linvin asked.

“Yes.”

“Good,” said Linvin, “because someone who betrays my trust will be shown no forgiveness and no mercy.  Are we clear on this point?”

Again Sirca whispered, “Yes.”  With that he was on his way to turn in his resignation.

Upon returning, Linvin dictated two letters. 

The Monster

We have a four-legged demon in our house.  It does what it wants, when it wants and has no consideration for anyone or anything.  The beast destroys at will and even with a certain level of satisfaction!  Now; during my blogging time I have been left alone with the monster.  I am tasked with preventing more destruction and soiling.  But this is a clever demon I face.  It hides its damage from view.  I must be vigilant in my duties.  Greater men and women have tried to contend with the monster but have found their efforts to be fruitless.  So, it falls to me that I must watch the creature as I write these words.  The family has even given a name to my bane.  Oreo.  He is disguised as a cute puppy but underneath hides the demeanor of a house killer!  I check on him every little bit and he lies dossal; giving no hint of subterfuge.  Yet I still find different forms of his destruction about the house.  It has already been a week and we are entering “The Great Paper Towel Shortage of 2018.”  My adversary is clever and has the others fooled by its charms.  All I get when I come near are bites at my legs.  Its teeth are small but sharp.  I must go to the same room to observe my adversary.  Lord, give me strength.  

Excerpt, "Sapphire Crucible"

The Commander of the Guard came forward and knelt on both knees in full armor before this Emperor. “I have every available Guard in the City in their saddles outside the Palace walls awaiting your arrival. They and I will follow your orders to the death.”

“How many are there?” Mandrean Inquired.

“One hundred and eighty riders are suitable for duty and are ready to ride,” Vipis answered.

“That will be sufficient to guard me,” Mandrean told the commander. “Have my horse and one for Necromancer waiting by yours and inform the men we are leaving at once.” The commander nodded and stood. He gave the fist salute and rushed from the room.

Mandrean turned to his Court Magician and said tauntingly, “Be sure to dress warmly. These rides can become frightfully cold.”

“Fear not for me, My Master,” Necromancer said as he prepared to follow the commander. “A fire burns within me that will ward off the harshest of winds.” With a half-hearted bow he left the room.

Mandrean gave a nod to Fendri. Then the House Master stood and proclaimed. “The court is dismissed.” There was a good deal of mumbling as the courtiers exited the hall. Soon only Mandrean, Fendri, Gramlick and a hand full of guards remained. Mandrean snapped his fingers and the guards left.

With only the three individuals left, Mandrean approached Gramlick. “I have a special task for you, my Teacher. Maxion is as crooked as a tree-branch in the wind. You will stay here and see to it no coup is attempted in my absence. Furthermore, there are many displaced citizens who are likely hungry and cold. See the issue is handled.”

“How will I enforce your authority when Maxion has a Legion at his command?” Gramlick asked.

Mandrean held out his open palm and had it immediately filled by an envelope bearing his seal. “These orders give you the right to act in my stead. I have personally sent for a Legion of your men to camp just outside of town. They will be here tomorrow. Your soldiers will beat Maxion’s any day.”

“Then why leave Maxion here at all?” Gramlick asked. “I could have handled this alone.”

“I am testing him,” Mandrean explained. “He will not know of your forces and his allegiance will be proven in the coming days. He also has recent experience with handling rebellious people. You, on the other hand, will see to it the people are here when I return. Now go to your quarters and take some rest.”

Mandrean could see his former tutor playing through scenarios in his head as he limped from the room. Only Fendri and Mandrean remained. The emperor turned to the Master of his House and handed him six envelopes.

“What are these,” Fendri asked as he looked at the seals.

“These are orders I want you to personally deliver to Numbers One through Six,” Mandrean said slyly.

“To the concubines?” Fendri asked.

“No,” answered Mandrean grimly. “You know of whom I speak.”

Fendri paused a moment as he realized to whom his master was referring. “If I may be so bold, My Master, what do these orders say?”

Mandrean smiled and answered, “They are insurance. If I wanted you to read them, they would not have been sealed. Take heart in the fact I would not have given them to you if I thought you would open them. The less you know the better you will be, Fendri.”

“Now, I must vanquish a rat my forces are in the process of trapping. With his death dawns the birth of a Mandrean Empire that shall rule the world. I bid you goodbye, Dear Fendri.”

Mandrean strode toward the door. Fendri looked at the sealed orders and then at his master. “Manenvious,” he called out. Mandrean stopped mid-stride and turned angrily to view his friend. “Remember the first thing Gramlick taught you,” Fendri reminded. “’Never underestimate your opponent.’” Mandrean snorted in disgust and left the room.

Fendri stood alone with his orders in hand and heard only his racing heartbeat. As he turned to leave a strong wind blew through the shattered remnants of the great doors and extinguished all the torches in the room. Fendri felt a sense of foreboding as he returned to his wing of the palace.