Anne Elisabeth Stengl's Blog, page 33

Fan Fiction Contest 2013: Never Be the Same

 

 Do beware
Oh, travelers fair
In the hidden wood
Of golden hound
Who seeks your life
A living sacrifice
 
He walks the Paths
So they say
Searching for souls astray
If you see him
Then your changed
You’ll never be the same
 
That’s what happened
So I’ve heard
To bard of Rudiobus
 
The rascal cat
A handsome flirt
Who only loved himself
He lived to live
For pleasure alone
And all were used to help
 
King of himself
Death to all who dared
Dispute his special royal rule
In his little liar
 
He worked for himself
For only one
And only one alone
 
Then why’d he stop
For mortal maid
Who lay asleep
Entranced
 
Why’d he give
What he was due
To a woman’s child
 
Why else would he
Bring her with
To save his lady’s life
And promise then
To help her too
 
The story I tell is true
 
Why’d he guard
With zealous words
And acts of jealous passion
Why did he
Fear for her
Not caring for himself
 
Explain to me
When prideful cat
Walked on Death’s own Path
Took hold of light
That lantern left
By the Brother Knight
 
And why would he
When he was freed
With his lady love
Leave his quest
And lady true
To his rival pest
 
To follow the maid
To adventure’s end
Willing to die for her
 
Why would he
In the Place of the Teeth
Kneel before another
All he was
He gave away
A servant to the King
 
So beware
Oh, travelers fair
In the hidden wood
The golden hound
He seeks your life
A living sacrifice
 
If you see him
You’ll be changed
And never be the same
 
 
 THE ENDIf you would like to vote on this or any other Goldstone Wood Fan Fiction, email me at aestengl@gmail.com with the titles of your top three picks. Winners will be announced September 1st.

Fan Fiction Contest 2013: O Gleamdren, Sweet Gleamdren

 
(To the Tune of “Flow Gently, Sweet Afton”)
 Oh, Gleamdren, sweet Gleamdren With beauty so rare. No jewel can outshine you Your face is so fair. Yet, fairest of all is your kind and good heart, You gave your own gown to a soul torn apart.   Oh, there are great maidens Whose beauty is sublime. Yet, none compares with the one for whom I pine. I’ve heard tell of one In great stories of old Who faced a ruthless Wolf Lord, For she was brave and bold.   Ah! Her courage is nothing When one thinks of you. Fair Gleamdren, you submitted to Death’s own dark brood. You were captured and rescued by one suitor so fine. Who offered his love with few words but kind eyes.   Yet, you, my love Gleamdren All suits do disdain. For your love is greater than any proclaimed. I’ve heard of One’s Love that cannot be explained, For He loved others who bore him disdain.   Ah! But, happy maid, your love is better by far, A goddess are you in your own rich bazaar. Many admire you from near and from far, And, you admire Yourself, my bright, shining star.   Oh, Gleamdren, sweet Gleamdren With beauty so rare. No jewel can outshine you Your face is so fair. Yet, fairest of all is your kind and good heart. You gave your own gown to a soul torn apart.
NOTE: This song by Sir Eanrin, Chief Poet of Iubdan Tynan and Great Queen Bebo is one of the most requested of the Bard’s songs.  Yet, for some unexplained reason, Queen Bebo does not allow it to be performed frequently.  Also, when it is performed by the Chief Poet, Bebo’s cousin finds that her presence is required elsewhere.  As for the other maiden mentioned in the song, her name is not known by me.   --Chief Scribe of Rudiobus.


 THE ENDIf you would like to vote on this or any other Goldstone Wood Fan Fiction, email me at aestengl@gmail.com with the titles of your top three picks. Winners will be announced September 1st.

Fan Fiction Contest 2013: The Definition of Love

     The Wood Between shivered with the wave of magic that was released. Imraldera felt it in the Haven. A whisper floated through the breeze. “Silent Lady, help me… come to Inada…” Startled, the dame blinked. Then she decided to go. Inada was the kingdom of a half fish, half human population— the merpeople.  They were cold and calculating, focused on logic rather than emotions. “Silent lady, help me…” rang through Imraldera’s mind over and over again as she took provisions.
    She left a note for Eanrin, who happened to be coming that day. In the letter she asked him to make sure someone stayed at the Haven while she was gone.  And she stepped into the Wood Between.
    After searching for what might have been five minutes or an hour, for time is of little consequence in the Wood Between, she found the Path she was looking for. At last she reached her destination, Inada. There was only one slight problem. Inada was underwater. As she walked along the pure white shore, the dame wondered how she was going to find the person who had called her.
     She sat down a little while away from the beach on a grassy area, and waited under the shade of a palm tree. Luckily for Imraldera, the sun was large, red, and dull. After some time, with the water quietly lapping at the edge and the sun going down, she fell asleep.
    “Silent lady!” Imraldera jerked up. She searched the beach. “Silent lady!” Came the call again.  She saw a young girl, perhaps no older than fourteen, floating near the shore.  She was dressed in wozen seaweed. Imraldera quickly floundered through the sand. “I am the so-called Silent Lady, and I am no longer silent. Are you the one that summoned me?”
    “Yes! We have a magic well, which we use to fill our lanterns with light. I used much of the magic to call you. I wanted to ask you something.”
    “You called me here to ask a question?”
    The girl continued.  Her face showed no emotion, but her eyes were bright and earnest. “It is a very important question. I want to know… to know what Love is.” Imraldera stared at her.
    “What is your name?”
    “I do not know my true name. My given name is Syrena.”
    The girl continued, “You see, all my life I have felt like I was missing something. I searched all the great libraries of Inada. And then I saw it, the word that struck me to the bone. Love.  And ever since, I have pondered every day what that word means. Please, Silent Lady, tell me! I must know. Is it a place, a name, or a feeling?”
    “How do you know my name? Did you see it in a book?”
    “A book? What is a book?”
    “What is the library filled with, if not books?”
    “Stones with words on them.”
    “Ah, I see. Anyway, some would argue that Love is a feeling. But I believe different, because I have seen. Love is a person.”
     “Who?” The mergirl whispered.
     “Lumil Eliasul.”
     “Lumil Eliasul… Lumil Eliasul…” Syrena mulled over the strange name. “I want to meet this person.  But first, will you see my world? Will you see a world with no emotions?”
   “Yes.”
    “Then take my hand.”
    Imraldera did. A strange change over came her. Suddenly her legs felt slimy, and were joining together. They turned into a single green tail. Her long robes turned into green seaweed.
    “Come with me, Silent Lady, come see the cold world.”
     Together they descended into the darkness. Imraldera was afraid. Her lungs almost burst with the want of air. At last she gave in. A gasp full of water filled her lungs. And she found she could breath. Her neck felt strange. Putting her hand up to it, she felt small gills. On through the murky darkness they glided. At first, Imraldera let the girl pull her, but soon learned how to control her tail. Finally, they reached their destination. Small blue lanterns glowed eerily through the murky darkness.
    A civilization came into view. Tall, white columns arched in the pale light. Syrena dropped Imraldera’s hand. “No emotions are allowed to show. It is the law. Be careful you do not break it.” The merpeople stared at her. What frightened the dame, however, was not the stares. It was the blank, impassive faces. They were lifeless, hopeless. Their faces, without life, were like zombies, or phantoms. It was like walking into a city of the dead.
     “This is my world.”
     “These people have smothered emotion, and by doing so have smothered life.”
     “I want to come with you.” The girl whispered. “I do not want to say this, I am not supposed to speak of emotions, but I am afraid to leave Inada! Oh, if my father had heard me say that!” The girl trembled.
    “What would your father have done?”
    “What he always does: tell me that emotions are silly, that we are strong without them, that to love is to lose.”
   “Without Love, life is not worth the living. I believe to love is to lose, but not to love is a greater loss.    “I asked him what Love was a few weeks ago, and that is what he said. He is always like that. Everyone is like that. There is no smiling or laughing, no crying or screaming. No emotions are allowed to show, for emotions are weak.”
   “Do you believe that emotions are weak?”
    “I… I don’t know. Without them, life is cold, but we are strong. With them, there is pain but freedom. Will you show me Love?”
    “Yes. Love is not just a person, though. Love is when we act like Lumil Eliasul, when we copy his actions.”
    “I want to know Love. I want to feel it. I will come with you.”
    As they swam towards shore, they turned into humans again.
   “The shore is magical,” Syrena explained.
     Suddenly, she stilled. And then she heard a song.
 
Beyond the Final Water falling,
The Songs of Spheres recalling,
If you look for Love,
You will follow me.
 
    The girl gasped, then she laughed, clumsily running around (and falling numerous times).
    “I know my true name! Search-and-Find!”
     “And your name suits you well. You have found. Come, we will go to my lord’s Haven. And then you will see Lumil Eliasul.”
    The girl laughed and danced, her delicate feet barely touching the earth. Her joy was contagious. As she laughed, Imraldera laughed with her. Giggling and running, they reached the haven.  Lights were on inside. Eanrin has done his job and had someone watch the Haven, Imraldera thought.
    Suddenly, arms were around her. “You dragon eaten girl! Running off into the blue! What were you thinking! Oh you crazy, crazy girl!”
    Imraldera laughed. “Eanrin! Dragons eat you, cat!”
    And then she saw not only Eanrin was there, but Lumil Eliasul himself. Search-and-Find smiled.
    “Love!”
    The Prince of the Farthest Shore laughed and smiled kindly. “Greetings, my child.” He took her sholders gently. “I am Love, and I love you. Will you be my knight? Will you serve me in exchange for my love?”
    “I will.”
    And she did. But that, my friends, is another story.  
 THE ENDIf you would like to vote on this or any other Goldstone Wood Fan Fiction, email me at aestengl@gmail.com with the titles of your top three picks. Winners will be announced September 1st.

Fan Fiction Contest 2013: Peacock of the Prince

Lunthea Maly, the Fragrant Flower, the Shining Jewel of the East, mourned for its deceased emperor as it never had before.
Not that Molthisok-Khemkhaeng Niran was a particularly well-liked leader (in fact, he had raised taxes to their highest in centuries.) No, Lunthea Maly did not mourn for him. The people mourned for what they viewed as the loss of their powerful status among the Eastern countries and those of the continent.  They mourned for their sudden deficit in leadership – for the new emperor was merely nine years old. On top of that, he liked funny clowns and had a pet peacock. Oh, how far the great have fallen!
However, the new emperor, Khemkhaeng-Niran Klahan, was not particularly concerned about his empire. He knew he was too young to rule properly, but his father had taught him more than anyone could suspect, except, perhaps, for the emperor’s pet peacock.
Said peacock had been invited to every meeting between young Klahan and his father. Niran had laughed, but his son had refused to allow the peacock to be sent away. So it stayed. Klahan depended on the peacock to be his constant companion, so therefore, his uncle, Sepertin Naga, had arranged for the peacock to be sent away. He did not believe pets to be a great asset to an emperor’s reign.
But Klahan had stubbornly smuggled his peacock away in his private chambers (which consisted of forty-two rooms, elaborately gilded and decorated in the style of the Far East.) Unfortunately, peacocks do not like being shut up where no one can see their glorious plumage, and this peacock was no exception.
“Klahan,” it complained one day in the voice that none but the emperor could hear, “I can’t bear being stuck here for a single more day. I demand that you let me out!”
The emperor sighed, quite a sad noise for one so young. “I told you, Bangat, my uncle doesn’t even know you’re still here!”
The peacock sniffed, which included a sneeze-like sound and a shake of his magnificent tail. “You’re the only one who can tell me apart from the other peacocks. Just let me go free with them.” Bangat did not add that he detested the other peacocks, vain, mute things that they were.
Klahan shut the book he had been reading with a thump, since it was quite a heavy book. “My uncle knows things that you don’t know he knows,” he said. “I think he might even suspect the location of Ay-Ibunda, the Hidden Temple.”
Bangat squawked. “Impossible!” he cried. “It lies on the Emperor’s Path!”
“Nevertheless,” Klahan replied, his eyes dark and wise, “he might know. And I cannot risk you getting sent away. You have taught me more about what it means to be a leader than even my father.”
Preening his colorful feathers, Bangat pretended that he had not heard this last compliment, which, of course, he had. “I’ll blend in, I promise you. Have I not done so for the last thousand-few years? I have spied on the minions of the Mherking; I have hidden in the shadows of even He Who Walks Before the Night. Do you doubt that I can remain unseen in the gardens of Lunthea Maly?”
Klahan opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment someone knocked on the door.
“Are you in there, O Great One?” a silky voice asked, though its smooth tone was undercut with a sharp, razor edge.
With a gulp, Klahan scooped the peacock up, ignoring his attempts to get away. “It’s my uncle!” he hissed. “Get out the window, hurry!”
Bangat obeyed without protesting, though later he would question this. He obeyed no man save one. Hopping through the window, he spread his useless wings and landed, hard, in the thorny rosebushes, which had not bloomed since before Molthisok-Khemkhaeng Niran’s reign. With a curse of “Dragons’ teeth!” he rolled out of the bush and ruffled his mussed feathers.
Voices drifted through the window. “Was that your voice I heard earlier, dear nephew? Whom, may I ask, were you talking to?”
“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Klahan responded, his voice once more calm. “I was practicing my dictation out of my book over there.”
Heavy footsteps marched across the floor, and then Sepertin Naga said, “Greatest Sonnets of the Bard Eanrin?”
“Yes. His verses offer a wide scope for different types of speech.” His voice changed to a lilting cadence, made sweet by his childlike soprano. “O Gleamdren fair, I love thee true—”
“I quite understand,” Sepertin Naga interrupted, his voice a snakelike hiss. “Make sure you are prepared for your coronation tomorrow. I believe we have secured a number of funny clowns, as you requested, Glorious One.”
“Excellent,” Klahan said, upset but unruffled by the interruption. “You may go now.”
The emperor’s uncle bowed, but asked one more question: “Why is your window open, nephew?”
For the first time, Klahan’s confidence wavered. “You do not need to know the answer to that.”
“As you command.” Bangat heard the footsteps once more, but they receded soon into the distance.
“Bangat?” Klahan called, though he did not look out the window. His voice trembled a bit as he said, “Perhaps it would be best if you stayed outside for the night. He might come back.”
“Very well. I agree with you,” Bangat replied. “Shall I see you at the coronation?”
“As long as my uncle does not see you, you shall.”
“Good.” Bangat gave his feathers a last preen, then, satisfied with their sheen, strutted off as only a peacock can. He did not hear Klahan’s shuddering breaths, nor did he see the shine of tears upon the boy’s face.
“Be safe, Bangat,” Klahan whispered to the room, which now appeared forlorn to his lonely eyes. “Stay hidden.”
 
~~~
 
“ELEPHANT!” cried the mad jester, spreading his arms wildly. “My name is Leonard of the Tongue of Lightning! Why are the trees pink and dripping frogs?”
More like Leonard of the Tongue of Nonsense, Klahan thought, but his solemn mouth quirked for a second.
The jester seemed to notice this, with eyes quicker than they should have been, considering that he was a brainless idiot. “The cheese fell!” he shouted. “Cake parties make Eanrin of Rudiobus eat spiders and lizards greet clouds at night!” So saying, he began dancing quite madly and singing in some strange Westerner tongue, which made no sense to even those who spoke that language. And after the jester vowed to eat the crowd, the emperor laughed.
In fact, everyone in the hall laughed, following their emperor’s lead, including Sepertin Naga, who did so with a murderous look on his face. Even Bangat, hidden in the shadows, snorted in a manner that only peacocks can. His snort was cut short, however, when Klahan spoke.
“You have pleased me greatly, Leonard of the Tongue of Lightning. Name any desire of your heart. So long as it is within my power to give, I shall bestow it upon you as a gift.”
The jester seemed to ponder these words for a moment. But when he opened his eyes, they were not the eyes of a madman. “I want…Ay-Ibunda.”
“No,” Bangat whispered.
“No,” Klahan said.
And next to the throne, Sepertin Naga’s smile flickered as he caught sight of a bright feather sticking out from behind a carved column.
 
~~~
 
The clown was swiftly ejected from the hall as the coronation drew to a close.  Bangat watched with trepidation as his young charge accepted the duties of the emperor. Giving his tail feathers a shake, he worried over every possible thought that presented itself to his wearied mind. What if Klahan wasn’t ready to be emperor? Could he manage without his father? Would Sepertin Naga relinquish his hold over the empire?
Of course he wouldn’t, Bangat answered himself. The power-loving fool.
“I’ll go see to him,” Bangat muttered under his breath. “He needs my help, and the help of my Prince.” He began strutting down the halls, passing over the intricately inlaid marble floors without a thought. No one stopped him, for the royal peacocks were treated with almost as much respect as the emperor and his immediate family.
When Bangat reached Klahan’s suite of rooms, he found the boy, still in his imperial robes, seated in front of a mirror and grimacing. “What are you doing?” Bangat asked, bewildered.
Klahan swung his short legs back and forth in the air, since they did not quite reach the ground. “Practicing the faces the clown made.”
“Why?” Bangat said. “It’s not befitting to a young man of your—SQUAAWWK!”
“Bangat?” Klahan swiftly turned around on his cushioned seat, only to meet the blazing eyes of his uncle.
“So…” Sepertin Naga said. He looked more snakelike than ever as he grasped the struggling peacock and smiled thinly at the emperor. “I thought this peacock had left the palace.”
“I’m not under orders from you,” Klahan asserted, before suddenly changing direction. “And that—that’s a different peacock.” He frowned, a hint of panic upon his childish features.
But Sepertin Naga smiled. “We both know you only gave one peacock a name, nephew. Now, it is time for it to leave.”
“No,” Klahan said in desperation. “I’m the emperor; I’m in charge.”
“Not for long,” his uncle said, leering. Then he shouted, “Guards! Make sure he does not leave.” Turning to the boy, who was trembling in anger, he said, “Never cross me. You may be the emperor in name, but I think we both know who will really be in charge.” He stepped smartly across the room and slammed the door, Bangat still throttled in his grasp.
“Don’t try to get away,” Sepertin Naga hissed at the peacock. “I know you’re onto me. Flarn!” he called. “Give this peacock to that jester. He’s still lingering at the gates; tell him the emperor has given him a gift.”
A smartly-dressed servant emerged from the shadows and bowed, taking Bangat, who hung his head low in shame. To be given to the jester!
My Prince, Bangat thought desperately. What should I do?
The response came as soon as he asked the question. Go. I will guide your path, just as I am attempting to guide the path of the jester.
You are guiding his path?Bangat asked, astonishment flooding his body so that he was petrified, unable to move in the servant’s arm.
He follows another’s guidance,the Prince said in the silver voice of the wood thrush, but I believe he will come to me in the end.
Well, miracles do happen.
The great doors to the palace opened with a clang, and Bangat was jerked out of his thoughts. The jester stood outside, his bright clothing tarnished and an indignant look upon his face.
After the servant, Flarn, managed to convey the message that Bangat was a gift, the jester took Bangat but immediately dropped him on the filthy ground.
“I say! I really don’t want this!”
He, Bangat thought. I’m obviously a male, not a “this.”
“Your humble gratitude will be conveyed to the Imperial Glory,” the servant replied stiffly.
“But…but what am I supposed to do with a dragon-eaten peacock?” the jester asked, clearly mystified.
Dragon-eaten. Interesting choice of words.
“And your wishes for his prosperous and eternal reign. Good night!” the servant said, though he obviously wished the jester anything but.
“If you’re not a stew by the end of the week, it won’t be my fault. Why me?” the jester said, looking at Bangat with a famished look in his eyes. Bangat noticed for the first time how the jester’s ribs stuck out from beneath his colorful garb.
Stew. No. Bangat flapped his small wings and struggled free of the jester’s grasp. “Heelp!” he cried. “HEEEELP!”
 
~~~
 
            Bangat claimed the bed, as was his right as a knight. The jester, who Bangat had decided was not mad at all, grumbled, but must have sensed the peacock’s superiority. Unfortunately, he still seemed to think Bangat was dinner.
            Aroused from his restless sleep by a loud knock, Bangat lifted his plumed head and watched as the jester cursed and stumbled his way to the door. Therefore, he did not miss the unmistakable fine clothes of one of Klahan’s personal attendants. It seemed he had come to retrieve Bangat, whom he compared generously to a Firebird.
            What a stroke of fortune! Bangat hopped off the bed and strutted to the door of the hovel. “Thanks very kindly,” he said, though he knew both men would only hear squawks. The attendant did, however, bow. Bangat nodded, accepting this as his due.
            “The gift of the reverenced bird was offered in a symbolic nature,” the attendant said.
Bangat cocked his head. Hadn’t Sepertin Naga wanted him sent away for good?
“You were not supposed to accept the bird,” continued the man, treating the jester like the madman he appeared, dressed as he was in a dirtied fool’s outfit.
            The jester swore, obviously upset by the loss of dinner.
            “Your veneration and devotion will be conveyed to the Imperial Glory…”
            “Yes! Free!” Bangat cried.
            “And your prayers for his eternal and prosperous reign.”
            The jester scooped Bangat up in a most undignified manner and thrust him out of the door. Bangat hissed angrily, but the jester had slammed the door. “Follow me, most noble bird,” said the servant, bowing again.
Bangat eyed the servant warily. He wore the garb of the emperor’s attendants, but it was possible he was working for Sepertin Naga.
The man reached down to pick Bangat up, and the peacock made his decision. Squawking wildly, he ran down the dingy hallway, through the sagging door, and into the street. Where a pair of hands promptly picked him up.
“Awk! Let me go!”
“Shh,” a familiar boyish voice said. “It’s me.”
Swiveling his head, Bangat gazed into the dark eyes of his young charge. “Klahan? What are you doing?” He took in the boy’s filthy clothes and dirtied face. Klahan had done a remarkable job with his disguise, Bangat had to admit, but that was no excuse for wandering the dangerous streets alone.
“Giving the clown his reward. Just wait here,” Klahan instructed.
“His reward?” Bangat asked. “You don’t mean…the Hidden Temple?”
“Exactly,” Klahan replied brusquely. He set Bangat gently on the ground, then stepped into the dark building, swiftly vanishing from sight.
“Klahan!” Bangat cried. Muttering darkly to himself, he attempted to follow the boy emperor, but found he could not continue. The wretched child had manipulated the Paths in the city, and Bangat sensed that if he took another step, he would find himself somewhere much less favorable than outside a squalid apartment.
Then Klahan appeared, followed by the jester, who looked as though all his hopes and dreams had come true at that moment. Bangat once more remembered his Prince’s words about guiding the fool, but he sniffed after the manner of peacocks and began covertly shadowing Klahan’s footsteps.
The Path they walked was very dark. Bangat sensed the evil lying at the end and wanted to wrench Klahan away, but the voice of the wood thrush said, Never fear. I am with you.
But are you with them? Bangat asked in response.
Suddenly, the city vanished. They stood, surrounded by swirling mist, before a sinister gate. Bangat shivered at the sight. Something evil lurked here.
Calling upon his Prince to protect them all, Bangat hurried through the gate after the jester and his emperor.
If possible, the inside of the temple was even darker than the outside. Shadowy figures moved like wraiths in the corner of Bangat’s eye, but he ignored them as he followed Klahan and the jester.
Then Klahan was alone, the jester having disappeared through a dark and foul-smelling tunnel.
“Klahan!” Bangat said.
The boy turned, his face wide with surprise and even anger. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait!”
“And you thought I would?” answered Bangat.
“Well, no.” Klahan wore a sheepish expression, but his eyes were still sharp and wary as he took in their surroundings. “I don’t like this,” he murmured.
“No more do I,” Bangat said. “What were you thinking, showing this fool the Hidden Temple?”
“I needed to know that I could come here. I needed to know that—Quick! On the floor!”
Bangat dropped to the ground like Klahan, but realized that his large tail would not lie flat against the ground. Cursing himself, for he had sworn he would never show the boy, he assumed his man’s shape, a change so natural that nothing seemed to have changed at all, except for a mortal’s perception.
Klahan stared goggle-eyed, for once at a loss for words. Bangat slapped a hand over his mouth and hissed, “Quiet! Now, what are you afraid of?”
“My uncle,” Klahan said once he had recovered his voice. “He’s here.”
Once upon a time, Bangat would have sworn to the world that such things were impossible, then gotten up and proclaimed his existence to any who might have been watching. But since entering the Prince’s service, he had learned that impossible things frequently happened, and in such a way that he would never doubt possibility again.
When the jester fell out of the passage, he seemed dazed, so much so that he did not even notice Bangat crouching on the floor.
Bangat frowned. How could anyone not notice him? He had blue hair, for goodness’ sake!
But the emperor replaced the blindfold, all the while looking nervously around.
“Leave your uncle to me,” Bangat whispered in his charge’s ear.
Klahan nodded, his face full of fear. “Will you escape from this place?”
Bangat looked down solemnly at the little emperor. “You have a great destiny, one my Prince wants me to protect. If I do not return to you…well, you may be certain that will never happen. Trust me.”
“Okay,” Klahan said in an uncharacteristically small voice. He turned to the jester and began leading him away, though not before glancing back again at Bangat.
But Bangat had already moved on in search of Sepertin Naga.
 
~~~
 
He did not have to search long. The wraithlike monks moved out of Bangat’s way as he passed, two long, sharp knives in his hands. They were made of a metal the Near World had never seen, and the monks moved fearfully out of the way, paving a clear path to Sepertin Naga.
Klahan’s uncle stood with his hands upraised in the darkest chamber of all. An altar was before him, an altar made of some black stone that gave Bangat the shivers.
Bangat stepped forward, and his foot skidded across the slippery floor. Dragons’ teeth! The floor was designed to hinder any attacker before he even reached his target. Bangat, sheathing his knives, and with the grace of a Faerie, stood upright soon enough, but not before Sepertin Naga tuned in to the fact that someone was behind him.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “How have you come to this hidden place?”
“I come in the name of the Prince of the Farthest Shore,” Bangat said, glad his voice stayed firm, “and under the protection of Khemkhaeng-Niran Klahan, your emperor. He it was who led me here, but it is I who will be disposing of you.”
Sepertin Naga turned around. He took in Bangat’s strange, gaudy dress and shock of blue, feathery hair. “Ah,” he whispered. “I should have known. She warned me that you weren’t what you seemed to be, you know.”
“She?” Bangat was bewildered, but then he stared at the gruesome carvings on the wall. Death was portrayed there, in alarming reality, along with his sister, the Lady Life-in-Death. “I see. Well, she can’t protect you against me.”
“No?” Sepertin Naga smiled his thin smile, then clapped his hands.
Some unseen force pinned Bangat to the ground. He struggled to free himself, but his attacker had no hands, nor, it seemed, any bodily features at all. It was merely a tool to aid in the capture of Sepertin Naga’s enemies.
“Take him to the Mother’s Mouth,” the emperor’s uncle commanded.
Bangat felt himself lifted to his feet. Dragged across the courtyard, he saw the monks jumbling closer to see him, their bodies more solid now that they came out of the mist. The unseen servant pulled Bangat all the way across the courtyard, between the hordes of monks, and beyond, through the dark tunnel the jester had gone down earlier.
“No,” Bangat moaned, but nothing could help him now.
Then he fell to the floor. Bangat rushed at the place he knew the doorway to be, but the force was in the way, and Bangat stumbled back.
“So,” a cold voice said, echoing from the back of the chamber, where darkness wreathed the walls and even Bangat’s clear Faerie gaze could not penetrate. “The enemy of my brother has sent a champion. Who are you, little Faerie?”
“I am nothing and nobody,” Bangat said, reaching for his knives.
“Those paltry things will do you no good,” the woman’s voice said, for it was a woman who spoke, but only just. “Not here in my temple. I sense that you attempted to kill my faithful servant, Sepertin Naga. By betraying my purposes, here where I am strongest, you will have to die—unless you swear to me something.”
“What is it?” Bangat asked, more curious than scared.
“Swear to serve me, and me only,” Life-in-Death told him. “Swear it, now!”
“I—” Bangat began, unsure of the words. Then the voice of the wood thrush spoke in his mind.
Do not forget me! he cried. And Bangat knew what to say.
“I will not,” he said, “for I stand under the Prince of the Farthest Shore. No Life-in-Death can take me away from his service!”
Life-in-Death screamed in fury, and Bangat felt the force behind him shudder. Mustering all his paltry strength, he called upon his Prince. Feeling the surety of life flood back into him, Bangat rammed into the force and broke through into the tunnel beyond.
He took his peacock’s form for better maneuverability in the cramped tunnel, then became a man once more after exiting the tunnel, which still reverberated with Life-in-Death’s screams.
Sepertin Naga gaped at him. “You’re alive?” he gasped.
“Yes,” Bangat agreed. “But you won’t be for much longer.” He drew his knives and rushed toward the man, whose mouth was now open, but neither words nor screams issued forth. Raising his right hand, Bangat prepared to strike Sepertin Naga down, but two voices stopped him.
“Bangat! What are you doing?” Klahan cried as he burst through Ay-Ibunda’s gates.
You are not a killer, my dear knight, the Prince told him. Leave him to me.
Are you sure? Bangat replied.
Do you doubt me?
“No,” Bangat muttered, putting his knives away. “But this wretch—”
Is beloved to me, just as you are. Leave him be.
Very well, my Prince.
Bangat cast one last scathing look over his shoulder at Sepertin Naga, who still lay helpless on the ground. Then he strode over to where Klahan waited.
“You almost killed him!” Klahan said, a hint of disbelief coloring his voice, along with an excited undertone. “I thought you were just a peacock!”
“Never base ideas off assumptions,” Bangat growled. “You can make some very serious mistakes.”
“Speaking of serious,” Klahan said as he clanged the gates shut and locked them, obscuring Sepertin Naga from view, “I think maybe I should lighten up a bit. Like that jester, you know?”
His face was so set that Bangat wanted to tell him to put his new resolution into effect as once. But he satisfied himself in saying, “As long as you’re not exactly like that jester. Please, don’t make me a stew.”
Klahan stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Can you always stay like this? You’re funnier than when you’re a bird.”
Bangat glared at his young charge, but seeing the expression of mirth on the emperor’s face, decided to smile. “Maybe. But for now, I think lightening up is an excellent idea. Your people may like you better for it, you never know.”
Klahan smiled in return. “Where did you get so wise?”
“My Prince helped me,” said Bangat. He couldn’t resist adding, “Though I came by most of it naturally.”
“Who’s your Prince?” Klahan asked, frowning. “I thought I was your emperor.”
“And so you are. But my Prince is greater than any mortal or immortal ruler.”
“Who is he?” Klahan said in a low, eager voice. “Can you introduce me?”
“I can help you find your way to him,” Bangat said, “but you’ll have to meet him on your own.”
“Then help me!”
They were well away from the Hidden Temple now. The shadows had departed, and Bangat felt safer among the familiar bustle of Lunthea Maly. He crouched and put an arm around Klahan’s shoulder. “I can do that. But first, make me a promise. Never, just because you’re the emperor, think that you know better than me all the time.”
Klahan grinned. “Of course not.” Under his breath he muttered, “Maybe just once in a while.”
“Well, then,” Bangat continued, not hearing the second part. “To start off with, my Prince is the son of the High King of the Farthest Shore…”
He set off walking again, and Klahan hurried to catch up to his long strides, eager to learn as much as he could.
And if any citizen of Lunthea Maly thought it odd that their emperor was wandering around with a stranger with blue hair, then it was none of his business, really. After all, this new emperor looked to be starting a much greater reign than that of his father, may he rest in peace. Maybe things would change. Maybe much for the better.  THE END If you would like to vote on this or any other Goldstone Wood Fan Fiction, email me at aestengl@gmail.com with the titles of your top three picks. Winners will be announced September 1st. 

Interview Feature: Laurisa Reyes

Give a big welcome to fantasy novelist Laurisa Reyes, who has come to the Tales of Goldstone Wood blog for an exclusive interview AND a giveaway! I'm excited to feature her and her developing series. First, a little about the authoress herself:

LAURISA REYES is the author of The Celestine Chronicles, a fantasy adventure series for middle grade readers, and is an editor with Hamilton Springs Publishing. She has a B.A. in English/creative writing and is currently pursuing her graduate degree. She has two as yet unfulfilled dreams: to own her own bookstore and star in a Broadway musical. She lives in sunny Southern California with her hubby of 20 years, their 5 children, 6 fish, 4 birds, 2 desert tortoises, 2 bearded dragons, 1 dog, and a partridge in a pear tree.


Here is the description of her upcoming release, Book 2 in the Celestine Chronicles:

Months have passed since Marcus and Kelvin succeeded in their quest to find the Rock of Ivanore. Kelvin is living as royalty in Dokur, and Marcus is studying magic with Zyll. When Fredric is murdered and Kelvin becomes king, Zyll and Marcus head for Dokur in hopes of protecting Kelvin from meeting the same fate, though it quickly becomes apparent that none of them are safe, and Marcus has had disturbing visions of Zyll's death. With the help of his old friends Clovis and Bryn, joined by new friend Lael, a feisty girl in search of her mother, Marcus uncovers a powerful secret that will change the course of his life forever.I know you want to learn more now!Show more Show less

INTERVIEW  Would you mind telling us a little about yourself? Hobbies, personality . . . tea or coffee?   Laurisa: I actually keep quite busy. People are always shocked when I tell them I am a full-time mom of five kids aged 5 to 19 years. I’m often asked how I have time to write. I still don’t know that answer to that, but I do make time every day. In addition to writing, I am also a creative writing instructor at a local community education center, I’m attending grad school, and I’m an editor with Hamilton Springs Press. This is on top of all the blogging, school visits, book signings, and marketing I do.   What led you into the writing life? Were you always a storyteller?   Laurisa: I was born a storyteller. I wrote my first poem when I was about six and have spent my whole life writing. I was really inspired by my dad who is the best storyteller I know. I got my B.A. in creative writing after which I wrote for magazines and newspapers for more than a decade, but I had always dreamed of writing fiction. My dream came true with The Rock of Ivanore.  Tell us a little about your first novel, The Rock of Ivanore. What led you to write this book?  
Laurisa: The Rock of Ivanore is a middle grade high fantasy adventure. Deseret News called it “Lord of the Rings for kids.” In the story, Marcus is an enchanter’s apprentice just can’t get his magic right. Every time he tries to cast a spell, it backfires. His master, Zyll, gives him a gift that helps him hone his skills and gain the self-assurance he needs to succeed in his quest, which is to find the Rock of Ivanore. After spending more than a decade writing for magazines and newspapers, I decided it was finally time to live my dream and write novels. My oldest son was eight years old at the time and I would tell him bedtime stories. One story was about an enchanter’s apprentice who bungled his magic spells. Each night my son would tell me what he wanted to hear, be it dragons or battles or magic, and I would weave those elements into the story. Eventually I started writing it down. That was six years ago.
 I see that the second book in the Celestine Chronicles, The Last Enchanter, is scheduled  to release this October. Does it pick up where The Rock of Ivanore leaves off, or is it a completely new adventure?  Laurisa: The Last Enchanter is book 2 in The Celestine Chronicles. Months have passed since Marcus and Kelvin succeeded in their quest to find the Rock of Ivanore. Kelvin is living as royalty in Dokur, and Marcus is studying magic with Zyll. When Fredric is murdered and Kelvin becomes king, Zyll and Marcus head for Dokur in hopes of protecting Kelvin from meeting the same fate, though it quickly becomes apparent that none of them are safe, and Marcus has had disturbing visions of Zyll's death. With the help of his old friends Clovis and Bryn, joined by new friend Lael, a feisty girl in search of her mother, Marcus uncovers a powerful secret that will change the course of his life forever.  Can you pick a favorite character from your series?  Laurisa: I asked my kids that question and they all had different answers. My daughter likes Xerxes, the enchanted walking stick. He has attitude. My son likes Bryn, the shape-shifting Groc who wishes he was human. I am particularly fond of Marcus because I see so much of myself in him. He starts out doubting himself and his abilities, but when faced with difficult situations, he reaches deep within himself to find the courage and skills he needs to succeed. I avoided writing novels for many years because I didn’t think I was good enough. It wasn’t until I finally committed myself to it that I was able become the writer I always wanted to be.  What inspires your work? Where do you turn when you need a renewal of inspiration?  
Laurisa: My kids are my biggest inspiration. I write for them. They are also my biggest fans, so when I need a boost I just collect all my hugs and kisses from them.   What are your favorite and least favorite parts of the writing process?  
Laurisa: That’s a tough question. I love every step of the process from conceiving the very first ideas for a story, to creating an outline and summary, to writing the first draft. The most challenging part is revising, which requires reading a manuscript many times over and over again, and picking apart every paragraph and sentence. It is tedious, but I love the end results – a polished book. If you were forced to pick a single favorite author, who would it be?  Laurisa: Ack! That’s not fair! I can’t pick just one. And it would really depend on the genre. My favorite middle grade author is probably a toss up between Lois Lowry and Jerry Spinelli. My favorite young adult author, though, is a tie between Neal Shusterman, Megan Miranda and Marissa Meyer, but my choices change every time I pick up a new book.  So what is next on your publishing horizons? Can we look forward to more in the Celestine Chronicles soon?  
Laurisa: I am writing book 3 in the series, The Seer of the Guilde, which is tentatively slated for 2015. But in the meantime, I am  looking for an agent to help me publish my first young adult thriller called Contact. I’m also writing a young adult science fiction/horror novel. But the most exciting prospect is my prequel to The Rock of Ivanore called The Crystal Keeper, which chronicles the story of Jayson and Ivanore during Jayson’s fourteen years of exile. I’m exploring different possibilities for that book and hope to release it in 2014.  Can you share a short snippet from The Last Enchanter? Laurisa: Sure! I’ll give you the prologue: PROLOGUE Fredric, ruler of Dokur, stared out his window toward the sea. The sounds of the cutting and hammering of wood and of men shouting came to him on a crisp salty breeze. Below in the bay, Dokur’s navy was busy rebuilding their ships. Eight months earlier Fredric’s own son had led their enemies to these very shores, and Dokur had nearly fallen by their swords. But soon these ships would set sail for the mainland and take revenge on the Hestorians.Fredric heard the door open behind him. The gentle clinking of crystal against silver was the only introduction the visitor needed.            “Is it time already?” Fredric asked without turning. “I would like a little wine to soothe my nerves before bed.”            Arnot filled a goblet and handed it to his lord with a slight bow. Fredric downed the contents, and then returned the empty goblet.“I fear I have grown too old for battle,” said Fredric, crossing the room to his bed. “These eyes have witnessed too much bloodshed, too much suffering.”            Fredric held out his arms while the attendant removed his royal robe and replaced it with a linen nightshirt. Once Fredric was dressed, Arnot went to the bed and pulled back the covers. “Your bed is prepared, your Majesty.”            Fredric rested his hands on the edge of the mattress. “My stomach,” he said. “It bothers me so.”            “Perhaps you should rest, sire,” replied Arnot.            Fredric rubbed his stomach and then raised his hand to his forehead where beads of sweat had formed. “I am not well tonight,” he continued, sighing. “But such is to be expected at my age.”            Suddenly, Fredric clenched his teeth together and his hands balled into fists against the mattress. He groaned as his entire body began to shake. Fredric grabbed the quilt in both fists and pulled with such force the fabric tore. A moment later he dropped to his knees, gasping for air.            “I am in pain,” he cried. “Fetch my doctor!”            Arnot remained where he stood and stared at Fredric with cold eyes.            “Arnot,” called Fredric, reaching for the attendant with both hands. “Please help me!”            A faint smile appeared on Arnot’s lips—so faint Fredric wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. When the attendant finally crossed the room to the door, Fredric felt relieved that help would be found. He lay down on the floor, too weak now to lift himself into the bed.            “Tell my doctor to hurry,” he whispered. “Tell him I am very ill.”            Arnot looked back at Fredric. The smile on his lips was now unmistakable, and there was a look of pleasure in his face.            “You are not ill,” he said coolly. “You have been poisoned.”            Then Arnot slipped through the door, shutting it quietly and securely behind him._________  What a wonderful glimpse into this new world! I hope you are all eager to pick up The Celestine Chronicles now. And you can, because Laurisa is kindly offering a print copy of THE ROCK OF IVANORE to a lucky winner! Be certain to enter your name below . . . and to thank Laurisa for visiting with us today. I love learning about new worlds, don't you?  http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0cd52413/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

  
 
 
   

DRAGONWITCH Release Day Blog Tour -- THE WINNER!

And what a glorious event these last three days have been! A huge thanks to all of the wonderful bloggers who participated, taking the time to create interviews, guest posts, and more, to format, to present, and to host on their various lovely blogs. It was such fun to work with all of them, and I hope all of you readers enjoyed the experience as well. What a great way to welcome Dragonwitch into the literary world!

Now, of course, what you've all been waiting for. The winner of the contest, and the first five Tales of Goldstone Wood novels is . . .


Annie Douglass Lima! Congratulations, Annie! And thank you so much to all of you who participated. Remember, there are more chances to win the Tales of Goldstone Wood on the Prism Books Tour still running and the I Am a Reader, Not a Writer blog tour coming up at the end of the month. I hope you will all find a chance to pick up and read Dragonwitch this summer. In the meanwhile, what are some of the summer reads you have enjoyed so far this year? I always love suggestions . . .   

Dragonwitch Release Day Blog Tour!

The time is here, dear Imps, for the Dragonwitch release day blog tour. This is a short tour (just three days long), but it offers numerous prizes! On July 17th, I'll announce the winner of the Grand Prize, which will be all five of the Goldstone Wood novels along with bookmarks and other fun swag.

But aside from Grand Prize, many of these bloggers are hosting extra giveaways with opportunities to win copies of Dragonwitch. So be certain you go through and enter your name, because you will have many, many, many chances of winning.

And please take time to thank all of these wonderful bloggers participating in the tour (and follow their blogs if you aren't already. They're all seriously awesome). All of these lovely people bless my life and make the release of each new book so special and rewarding.

So do come and join us! Here is the complete list of all the fantastic blogs you can visit today, tomorrow, and the next day.

Did I mention that ONE of these fine hosts is posting a sneak peek from book 6, Shadow Hand?


Tour Schedule

July 14 - Day 1
Rebecca's Book Blog - Interview

Jennette Mbewe - Sneak Peek

Bluerose's Heart - Top Tens List

The Wordsmith's Shelf - Sneak Peek

The Wonderings of One Person - Guest Post

Seasons of Humility - Interview

Worthy 2 Read - Guest Post

The Endless Road - Interview

Tea and Bree - Interview/Sneak Peek

JoJo's Corner - Interview


July 15 - Day 2
Letters to the Cosmos - Guest Post

The Writer of Dream Things - Character Interview
 
The Sassy Sister - Sneak Peek
 
Makai Queen - Interview

JoJo's Corner - Sneak Peek

Crafty Booksheeps - Interview

Young Adult Books - Sneak Peek

Darling Diaries - Interview

Blooming with Books - Interview/Sneak Peek
 

July 16 - Day 3
The Writer's Window - Character Interview

Penning Praises - Guest Post

Crimilia - Interview

Rachel Herriman - Guest Post

Rina's Reading - Top Tens List

JoJo's Corner - Guest Post

Living On Literary Lane - Interview

Onto Her Bookshelf - Interview

An Ink-Made Maiden - Interview

July 17 -Blog Tour Finale and Prize Awarded back at the Tales of Goldstone Wood!

Don't forget to enter your name for the Grand Prize!


http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0cd52412/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Fan Fiction Contest 2013

My dear Goldstone Wood Imps, the time has come to announce this year's Fan Fiction Contest.

You may remember how wonderful all the submissions were last year, particularly the winning submission by Meredith Burton (which can be read here). This year, we're going to shake it up a little bit, however! So if you want to participate, please read the rules below:

1. Your short story submission must be set in the world of Goldstone Wood and relate to the characters and themes of that world in some way. You may introduce your own new characters and storylines, but we must be able to see the connection to Goldstone Wood somehow.

2. There is no word-limit this year. You may make your stories as long or as short as you like!

3. You must get your submission to me no later than July 31, 2013.

4. This year, the winner will be selected via Fan Voting (as with the Fan Art Contest). All submissions will be given individual features on the Tales of Goldstone Wood blog so readers may read and enjoy them.

5. To Vote: Readers may email me their TOP THREE FAVORITES (aestengl@gmail.com). Those who submit stories may also vote.

6. Voting will last through the whole month of August, giving readers plenty of time to read every story. The winners will be announced on September 1st.

THE WINNERS1st Place: Will receive two Goldstone Wood novels of her/his choice, and a free influencer copy of Shadow Hand when it releases next February!

2nd Place: Will receive two Goldstone Wood novels of her/his choice.

3rd Place: Will receive one Goldstone Wood novel of her/his choice.


Note: Illustrated stories are welcome, but I request that those who illustrate their stories send me the images as Jpegs and at least a week before the deadline so that I have plenty of time to format the story for presentation.


I am so looking forward to seeing your creativity at work! Last year displayed so much writing talent, it nearly blew me away. Can you Imps top that this year???

Prism Book Tours: DRAGONWITCH!

Launching...




On Tour with Prism Book Tours...


The highly anticipated book, Dragonwitch by Anne Elisabeth Stengl, is NOW AVAILABLE!!!





Dragonwitch
by Anne Elisabeth Stengl
Paperback, 432 pages
Published July 1, 2013 by Bethany House Publishers


Submissive to her father’s will, Lady Leta of Aiven travels far to meet a prospective husband she neither knows nor loves–Lord Alistair, future king of the North Country.

But within the walls of Gaheris Castle, all is not right. Vicious night terrors plague Lord Alistair to the brink of insanity. Whispers rise from the family crypt. The reclusive castle Chronicler, Leta’s tutor and friend, possesses a secret so dangerous it could cost his life and topple the North Country into civil war.

And far away in a hidden kingdom, a fire burns atop the Temple of the Sacred Flame. Acolytes and priestesses serve their goddess to the limits of their lives and deaths. No one is safe while the Dragonwitch searches for the sword that slew her twice…and for the one person who can wield it.



Amazon * Barnes & Noble





Anne Elisabeth Stengl  makes her home in Raleigh, North Carolina, where she lives with her husband, Rohan, a passel of cats, and one long-suffering dog. When she's not writing, she enjoys Shakespeare, opera, and tea, and studies piano, painting, and pastry baking. She studied illustration at Grace College and English literature at Campbell University. She is the author of HEARTLESS, VEILED ROSE, MOONBLOOD, and STARFLOWER, with DRAGONWITCH due to release in 2013. HEARTLESS and VEILED ROSE have each been honored with a Christy Award.





Facebook * Twitter * Website/Blog * Goodreads




Pull up a chair and a cup of tea... we've invited Anne Elisabeth to every blog on the tour!



 





July 




1 – Book Release!

2 –  The Writer’s Window



3 – TheOther World

4 – Mel’sShelves

5 – JL Mbewe




7 – TheProud Book Nerd

8 – GettingYour Read On

-         
Christy’s Cozy Corner

9 – BookwormLisa

10 – Jojo’sCorner

11 – LDS& Lovin’ It

12 – TheWondering’s of One Person 




14 – Mommasez…

15 – Dee’sReads

-         
Kelly P’s Blog

16 – ThatGirl Reads
 - CTFDevourer

17 – Livinga Goddess Life

18 – Cu’sEbook Giveaways

 - Shannon's Blog



19 – Grand
Finale Blast!




The Tales of Goldstone Woods Series:




Heartless

Veiled Rose

Moonblood

Starflower

Dragonwitch
and now...


Shadow Hand
Coming Spring 2014













Read where it all began... for FREE!




Barnes & Noble

Amazon:





 



The Series - on sale!
From $1.99 to $2.99 on Amazon & Barnes & Noble




 
 
 





Tour-wide Giveaway - 


USA, Canada & UK - Print Copy of the entire series to date!
See Rafflecopter for giveaway details.








a Rafflecopter giveaway

Facebook Party Tonight!!!

 Don't forget to RSVP! Click here for more details. I hope to see you there for a fun time of book chat and giveaways. You'll have the opportunity to win ALL THREE of these exciting new novels!