Craig Comer's Blog, page 13

The Benighted

Skylar snapped awake from her hazy depression, looking about her and realizing she had walked further into the grounds than before, further than the pond would have allowed.

The pond.

Her eyes scanned the edges of the walls, a terrible realization sinking in the further she pulled her gaze away from the landscape, the ground never changing from the snow white that extended out from the wall to where she was standing. Her eyes fell on her feet, and very slowly she slid her foot across the surface, scrapping the snow away and revealing the ice hidden underneath just as the first sounds of cracking found her ears.

“Skylar!”

She looked behind her, witnessing Harlin running as fast as he could underneath the bare Crimson Bride trees towards her. There was a single loud crack, and that’s when the ground broke underneath her, causing Skylar to freefall into the freezing waters that were trapped under the ice.

She fell almost sideways, hitting part of the weakened ice with her body weight, then falling straight through. The ice cold water swarmed around her, engulfing every inch of her in a sharp icy pain, and it froze her long after it had swallowed her under its wake. Opening her eyes, she fought to keep her breath in while every inch of her wanted to gasp from the cold shock of the ice water, and she found that she almost couldn’t move, the cold stabbing at every pore while the weight of her dress worked against her.

Skylar found the ice above her was light except for a patch of dark blue. She kicked her legs as best as she could, scooping her arms around her in order to move upwards. The air in her chest burned, her lungs demanding oxygen. She saw the ice above her, the light of the snow surrounding the opening she had broken through. Panic tingled down her spine and forced her legs to kick, pushing her upward. Just as she lost the last of her air, the surface of the pond broke through and her head shot up into the open air, gasping as her arms wailed around her trying to keep herself afloat.

“SKYLAR!”

The voice flung itself at her as Skylar paddled as best as she could towards the nearest chunk of ice. She tried to push herself up on top of it, but the ice broke, and she fell back through, almost falling completely under again. The weight of the water-logged dress started to feel heavier now, the exhaustion of moving in the ice cold waters taking its toll on her.

She tried to paddle to the ice again, throwing her arm over the ledge so she could pull herself up. But she was too weak now, too tired, too shaky to lift herself. And so there she remained in the water, shivering and burning from the cold, looking out across the snow towards the voice who had been calling her name.

A. M. Dunnewin inherited her love for mysteries and thrillers from her family, which motivated her to pursue a B.A. in Psychology with a minor in Criminal Justice. Although her stories cover a wide range of genres, she primarily writes historical fiction and thrillers. An avid reader at heart, she’s also a passionate collector of both antique books and graphic novels, and has been known to search for stories in the most random places. She lives in Sacramento, California.

blog: http://amdunnewin.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/A.M.Dunnewin

Twitter: http://twitter.com/AMDunnewin

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5405098.A_M_Dunnewin

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/A.-M.-Dunnewin/e/B007321LV0

The Unknown Sun

Airi streaks out of the sky, touches down, and screams to a sliding halt, her wings flaring wide in a primitive airbrake. Water erupts in her wake as her feet skid on the smooth obsidian top of the pyramid. Bel doesn’t slow down, and I gasp when his right arm reaches back and his hand clamps down on my upper arm. I instantly know what he is doing and it chills me far worse than the driving rain.

I relax my grip on his neck and let the talisman drop back to settle at my throat. It hums with power as the light brightens now that my fingers no longer block it.

“Go! Go!” Bel bellows as his hand drags me from his back. I lurch sideways as he spirals, snapping his pale wings shut at the last minute to avoid colliding with the stone floor and the portals. The force of the maneuver flings my slight weight out and away from him, and his hand releases me just as my feet brush the stone platform. Upright, I skid across the wet floor and collide with Airi in a rush of wind and water.

Bel vanishes in a snap of feathers, his lean muscles able to power him back into the air shockingly fast. He disappears into the stormy sky beyond the aura of the talisman, leaving me breathless and light-headed.

“Bel,” I cry into the teeming rain, and stumble away from Airi’s strong grip. My knees threaten to fold beneath me. The pounding rain beating on my face melds with tears that burn my eyes. I need to go to him, but long, strong fingers hold me up and back.

“Moira, he’s got to distract them. We have a job to do,” Airi screams over the steady roar of the rain, and shoves me back around toward the statues. I stumble to stand between them, and tear my gaze from the ominous clouds to the stone figures. blinking against the shards of rain pummeling me I search the sky one more time for any sign of Belamar. Far above, beyond the glow of my talisman, wraith-like shadows dive and race. Tears blur everything.

Cheryl Mackey lives in Southern California with her husband and 2 sons. She is a Document Specialist with a mortgage company during the day and a writer during the night!

She has a MFA in Creative Writing and enjoys games, reading and, of course, writing.  She currently has a flash fiction story published online at The Prompt Magazine.

Her favorite genres to write and read is YA Fantasy closely followed by YA Paranormal and she would love to dabble in Steam Punk and Dystopian.

Author Website: http://www.writezalot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/writezalot

Twitter: https://www.facebook.com/writezalot

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22025179

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K1EL76Q

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Shadow’s Moon

The club’s lighting leaned heavily on a strobe effect, which guaranteed a rousing headache by the time the night was over. The snaps of brightness stung Xander’s eyes but she did her best to ignore it, trying to make out individual faces in the heavy crowd.

Needing to get an aerial view of the packed room, she found a lone empty chair sitting against the wall. Climbing up, she stood on tiptoe, stretching to see over the sea of bobbing heads. Between bursts of light, a disturbance in the rhythmic mass caught her attention. Two burly bouncers were making their way from the bar to the back of the club. Patrons stumbled out of their way, leaving a visible path. The bouncers pushed through with identical grim expressions. The strobe lights flashed off the taller one’s bald head, while his buzz-cut partner pointed toward something ahead of them. Following the gesture, Xander found Neil arguing with a pretty, honey-brown-haired young woman.

Xander tapped her earpiece. “Ryuu?”

“Yeah?”

“How long before you get here?”

“I’m almost there.” There was a pause. “You found him.”

“Oh, yeah. And it’s going to get ugly. Quick.” She watched the woman jerk away from the tall, lanky, dishwater blond, shaking her head. “I think I’ve found Sara, too.”

Xander jumped off her chair just as Neil reached out to snag the girl, fury evident in his bared teeth and curled hands.

“We’re out of time,” she told Ryuu, pushing her way through the dense crowd.

“Be careful.” Ryuu’s warning was lost as she hit a broad shouldered form in front of her. The answering bump knocked her hard enough she lost her earpiece. Screw it. Done being polite, she gave him a shove, sending him into the arms of his buddy as she continued toward the impending showdown at the back of the club.

Through the sea of gyrating bodies, she caught glimpses of the confrontation playing out. Sara was verbally ripping Neil a new one, while the club’s security duo drew closer to the arguing couple. Sara’s tirade wasn’t the reaction Neil had expected. Under the strobe lights, his face contorted into something not altogether human.

So much for keeping the existence of monsters on the down low from humans.

Jami Gray grew up on the Arizona-Mexico border, and was adopted at the age of 14 to suddenly become the fifth eldest of 37 children. She graduated from Arizona State University with a Bachelor’s in Journalism and three minors-History, English, and Theater. (Decision-making was not her forte at the time.)  Shortly after marrying her techie-geek hubby (who moonlighted as her best friend in high school) she completed a Masters in Organizational Management from University of Phoenix Oregon.

Now, years later, she’s back in the Southwest where she’s outnumbered in her own home by two Star Wars obsessed boys, one Star Wars obsessed husband, and an overly-friendly, 105-pound male lab.  Delving into the wild paranormal worlds where romance collides with suspense and Urban Fantasy is queen, manages to salvage her sanity. Or so we let her believe…

Website: http://www.JamiGray.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JamiGrayAuthor

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/JamiGray

Google+: https://google.com/+JamiGray

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.com/e/B006HU3HJI

Black Opal Books: www.BlackOpalBooks.com

 

Spelled – Amethyst, Book I

“I need to tell you about the Sagestone fire,” he says, his voice rasping like each word is being scraped out of him.  “I need you to know how this started.”

My eyelids are too heavy to open.  I try but it’s like two thumbs are resting on top of them, holding them down.  I can’t do anything but lie there and see the hallway of the old high school emerge from the fog in my mind’s eye.  It surrounds me, makes me feel like I’m standing there, two months ago exactly.  I shiver when he tells me Keir chose the place because he knew it’d be empty, and he knew how to get in.

“The boy, Matthew Townsend,” he goes on, “was dead when I got there.”

Every word adds a brushstroke to the scene until it’s as clear as my own memory.  It’s the spell that’s doing it.  I can feel it crouching in the back of my brain like a gargoyle, watching the vision unfold while I’m powerless to do anything to stop it, change it, making it real.

I can see the hallway of the old school, everything washed in the grey darkness of nighttime.  His feet, my feet, send echoes circling off the walls as I follow the faint smell of smoke down the hall.  When I stop outside of French room 2B, my hands reach out and open the door.

The fire Keir started is on the floor, singeing the slip-resistant linoleum in the middle of a black casting circle.  Desks sit clustered around it.  Matthew’s body is slung across the long table in the corner.  Seeing him there, so rigid and still, makes my throat close until I almost can’t breathe.

The door shuts behind me, drawing Keir’s attention away from the embers.

What took you so long?  He says as he snatches a knife off the floor and tosses it at me, hilt first.  My hands barely manage to snag the handle.

Get his blood, Keir says, sliding a ceramic bowl across the floor until it knocks into my shoe.  We’ll do you first.

My body draws near to Matthew, and I want so badly to open my eyes, break through this nightmare.  I watch my hand guide the knife to Matthew’s grey-blue skin and split it in a line.  There’s fingerprint-shaped bruises darkening along his neck.

“Keir strangled him before I got there,” he says.  “Just before.”

He’s dead, but Matthew’s eyes don’t seem vacant yet, like some part of him is digging his nails in, refusing to be torn out.

The ceramic bowl in my hands catches the blood that flows down Matthew’s elbow.

His voice shakes when he says, “Lifeblood had to come from an artery.  Keir taught me that.  The heart was best, but I just couldn’t put the knife between Matthew’s ribs, dead or not.”

My hands hold out the bowl to Keir and he takes it, mixing a fistful of ashes into it, something like pigment powder.  He holds the mixture over the fire, speaking in guttural words that don’t sound like any language I’ve heard before.  The darkness deepens in the room, as if it’s being called, clustering in the corners like silent observers.

Keir digs in his backpack and pulls out a pen, just a regular ballpoint that’s been emptied of its ink, but it has a needle on its end.  I sit in front of him, horrified as I gather my shirt up at the back of my neck.  Keir goes to work, dipping into the rust-colored paste and piercing a stinging pattern into my back.

“I knew how wrong it was,” he says.  “I knew I was breaking a part of myself that I’d never fix again.  It’s hard to explain.  Each puncture kind of felt like there was a wholeness filling me.  Like all my life I’d been half empty, you know?  I couldn’t keep going like that.  I’d rather be someone else, and let this other side take over, than deal with being an unfinished person.  I never really thought of stopping.  Not even once.”

In the room, Keir works the makeshift needle down to my lower back.

Almost done, Keir says, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his hand steady.  The last mark is tricky.

As soon as he’s done saying it, the fire in the middle of the room bursts like a mushroom cloud, stretching up in fury up to the speckled white ceiling.  The Mineral fiber tiles take up the flames like gasoline, and the whole room loses its breath and starts to choke.

“I knew it was Matthew,” he says, “driving the fire with all the hatred and anger for us that was too strong to move on, leave the place where his life had been stolen.”

The pen drops from Keir’s hand, skittering across the floor.  We’re both on our feet, running for the door.  The handle is jammed, swollen with the heat.  We try the windows, but the metal burns our hands.

“Matthew trapped us,” he says.  “His final revenge.”

I grab a chair and break it across a window, chipping out a hole in the glass the size of a dime.  It takes six more tries to smash a gap big enough to fit us.  I scrape my body through as shards tear at my elbows.  When I’m almost out, still hanging onto the windowsill, I turn back to Keir, but he’s not behind me.  He’s running to the body, refusing to leave it.

As soon as Keir touches Matthew’s skin, the fire retaliates, eating up every molecule of air left in the room before exploding out the windows.  Heat surges into my nose and mouth, burning down my throat, as I hurl myself to the grass outside.  After that, I drag my body across the parking lot, collapsing behind an electrical box.

“Sagestone High,” he tells me, “was gone before the fire trucks even got there.  I didn’t think there was any way Keir could’ve gotten out.  All the evidence was wiped away by the fire.  I thought it was some kind of gift.  A second chance almost.  I walked away after that.  To this day, I’ve never once looked at the tattoos on my back.”

That’s what he says, anyway. I feel the spell losing its hold on me. My vision clears, like a gentle wind sweeping the fog away, and I open my eyes.

It’s just me now, in my own body, still stuck in my hospital bed, and him in the chair beside me.  He leans forward, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets like it hurts him too much to see me.

Something’s just been lost between us.  I can feel our innocence draining from the room, and a dark weight settling in its place.

“If you’d told me one day ago,” I say, “we might have been able to save you.”

Kate St. Clair grew up in Austin, TX, before she attended boarding school in California. She was accepted to the Chapman University Creative Writing program before she wrote SPELLED – Amethyst, Book One, released on April 1st 2014. SPELLED is a paranormal YA series published by Black Hill Press. When she’s not writing, Kate is riding horses, walking her dogs, or playing with her pet pig, Miley.

Buy on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Spelled-Contemporary-American-Novellas-Clair/dp/0615962025/

Buy from publisher: http://blackhillpress.com/book/spelled/

Liminal Lights

If you look carefully amongst the trees, you just might catch a flashing glimpse of a Liminal’s light. These faerie-like creatures live deep in forgotten forests, away from the prying eyes of humans. They make their homes in the top branches of trees. The last time you walked through the forest and spotted a birds’ nest or a squirrel’s den, suspiciously surrounded by the flickering lights of fireflies, you may have actually stumbled across a carefully concealed Liminal home.

As with all books, landscape and world building play important roles in setting the scene for “Liminal Lights”. For the most part, the Liminals exist on the edge of human existence. Technically, they aren’t supposed to interact directly with humans or let themselves be known, but sometimes, it’s unavoidable. Normally, you won’t see Liminals lurking about in the day. They easily hide in the light, using the brightness to camouflage their own powerful glow. Their own homes, located above the usual line of vision for ordinary people, shelter them from prying eyes. When a Liminal does need to venture into the realm of humanity, he does his best to conceal himself in the glow of streetlamps or the piercing rays of sunlight. Adults are less likely to recognize these mythical creatures, as their imaginations are jaded, but children and creative types can easily discern their shapes, even if they have difficulty believing their eyes.

Book one does not highlight the fantasy landscape of Liminal homes, rather it shows how easily this species slip into the fabric of human lives and surroundings. Even though they are intended to stay on the periphery, when their existence is threatened, their choices are slim, and somewhere along the way, the two worlds must meet.

J.M. Bogart believes there’s a spark of magic in every person, regardless of age or background. Her upper Middle Grade novels are written with bright and imaginative youth in mind. She hopes to provide fun and appropriate content combined with challenging language and concepts for readers drifting in those precocious middle years.

Ms. Bogart spends her days writing, editing, and caring for her very busy family. She used to dream of the day when Mary Poppins would swoop in to help with the children, but now that they are older she wishes those chaotic days filled with giggles and sunshine hadn’t disappeared quite so fast. You can follow J.M. Bogart on Facebook, Twitter, and her blog.

Publisher Website: Morning Rain Publishing

Cairns in the Desert: What Happened Here?

Cairns can mark anything from a trail waypoint to a memorial for the dead: What Happened Here?

Writing prompt, inspiration, or just something to enjoy. Your choice! If you come up with anything you want to share, post it in the comments.

Weirdville – Author Q&A

Enter to win a $50 Amazon gift card! Click HERE to enter; the giveaway is international, and the winner will be contacted through email.

The Weirdville series is comprised of scary chapter books for kids, including: “The Doll Maker”, “House of Horrors” and “Fright Train”. Each book can be read as a stand-alone.

How did the world of the Weirdville series come about? Did the books emerge from the setting, or did the setting evolve from the books?

The books evolved from the setting. I used to read a lot of R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike books when I was a kid. They both wrote scary books for kids, which had one thing in common: setting. Each book told a different story but they all took place in the same street or town.

That’s how I came up with the idea of Weirdville. All stories would take place in the same town, but they would involve different characters.

How did the setting evolve during the writing process? Was it all mapped out beforehand, or has it emerged in the telling?

The setting evolved as I started writing. At first, Weirdville was just an idea, but as it grew, items began to get added to the town, like a doll shop, a haunted graveyard, and a fair. Readers will find out a lot more about Weirdville and the scary places the town has to offer in the next few books.

As each book is a stand-alone, do the uncanny events in the Weirdville series follow the same rules of magic?

Well, each monster that has been featured so far, is completely different, so they each follow different rules of magic. For instance, in the first book there’s a doll maker feeding on the energy of little kids, who can only be destroyed in one particular way. In the second book, there’s a demon that can only be destroyed a certain way as well. Each monster has its own rules.

What other fantasy worlds have you read that have inspired you? What aspects of the setting draws you to them–the landscape, politics, religions, cultures, etc?

I’ve read many fantasy books that inspired me. Culture and politics draw me in the most. I don’t care that much about landscape, but more about what makes a civilization. I particularly love the world of the Song of Ice and Fire series.

Sometimes it’s good to be the king or queen, but that often isn’t the case in fantasy worlds. If you had to live in one of your favorite fantasy worlds, would you want to rule it?

I wouldn’t like to rule the world of Song of Ice and Fire, because sitting on the Iron Throne usually means a death sentence. I’d like to be close to the throne though, but not so close I actually had a chance of ruling.

Part of creating unique and memorable world is finding those vivid details that thrust the book off the page and into the reader’s mind. What are 5 interesting facts about Weirdville that set it apart?

First of all, Weirdville is just about the scariest place you can imagine. The dead don’t say dead, demons are lured to town, and all the scary things you can think of, can actually happen there. It’s like evil has decided to claim town, and in a way, it did.

The reason why evil has made its home in Weirdville is because of something that happened in the past, and that will slowly be revealed throughout the book.

Weirdville is a small town, but it has a forest on the outskirts of town. Its closest neighboring towns are miles away.

The city is run by the Weirds, the notorious family who founded the town. The Weirds have always been a little off, and they harbor dark secrets.

The Weirds have family members living all over the world, and now and then, they come to visit. But these visits are never good news, and bring new terrors to town.

What can readers look forward to in the future of this series?

The next three books in the series will release this year. Book four, “Drowning in Fear” will release in July. Book five, “The Clumsy Magician” releases in September, and “Grave Error” releases in December, as well as an omnibus edition. Each book can be read as a stand-alone.

Readers can expect more scary stories, and slowly, the history of Weirdville, and its many secrets, will be revealed.

Majanka Verstraete begged her Mom to teach her how to read while she was still in kindergarten. By the time she finished fifth grade, she had read through the entire children’s section of her hometown library.

She wrote her first story when she was seven years old, and hasn’t stopped writing since. With an imagination that never sleeps, and hundreds of possible book characters screaming for her attention, writing is more than a passion for her.

She writes about all things supernatural for children of all ages. She’s tried to write contemporary novels before, but something paranormal always manages to crawl in.

Majanka is currently studying for her Master of Laws degree, and hopes one day to be able to combine her passions for law and writing. When she’s not writing, reading or studying, she likes watching “The Vampire Diaries” and “Game of Thrones,” spending time with her friends, or playing “World of Warcraft.”

Links

Author Website: http://majankaverstraete.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Majanka-Verstraete/398570476832115

Twitter: @iheartreads

Goodreads:

The Doll Maker: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18163241-the-doll-maker

House of Horrors: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18518799-house-of-horrors

Fright Train: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18518899-fright-train

Amazon:

The Doll Maker: http://amzn.to/1ifFrIG

House of Horrors: http://amzn.to/1oqcwUI

Fright Train: http://amzn.to/1cWDoKf

On Publisher’s website:

The Doll Maker: http://evolvedpub.com/product/the-doll-maker/

House of Horrors: http://evolvedpub.com/product/house-of-horrors/

Fright Train:  http://evolvedpub.com/product/fright-train/

The Earl’s Curse

Kaireen Ramsley pressed her face to the window of the carriage hoping to catch her first glimpse of Tynghedu Castle. Rain lashed the windows and lightening lit the sky making it possible to see the countryside but the castle remained hidden.

The narrow road twisted its way up a steep cliff leading to the ancient fortress high above the Northern Wales coast. Winter was fighting spring’s approach leaving the trees bare of new leaves. The naked branches looked like the hands of wraiths reaching out for her. The longer she looked the larger and more menacing they seemed to become.

Kaireen let the curtain fall back into place with a snap as she sat back in the comforting cocoon of the dark carriage interior and suppressed a shiver. She told herself to stop letting her fanciful imagination take over. It had been a long journey from Edinburgh to this remote corner of Wales. Kaireen took off her spectacles and rubbed a hand over her face as she let out a tired sigh; in her excitement to arrive she hadn’t eaten or slept in the past twenty-four hours.

Kaireen replaced her spectacles and reached into her receptacle to make sure she hadn’t lost the letter of introduction her father had written to the Earl of Farthington. Although the earl had tracked her down and requested she come and restore the castle gardens, Lord Ramsay felt it would be best for her to have the letter.

After reassuring herself that she hadn’t lost the letter she pushed her spectacles up her nose and smoothed any hairs that had dared escape from the snood she wore. The driver was slowing down so they must be getting close to their destination.

Kaireen felt the carriage turn left then heard the hollow thumping of hooves on a wooden bridge followed by the sharp ring of hooves in a tunnel paved with cobblestones.

Pulling back the curtain she saw they were going through a narrow medieval gate house lit by torches that danced wildly in the wind. Kaireen could almost believe she had come to the castle during the time it was built.

They emerged from the gatehouse into the courtyard. Kaireen gasped at the size of it. It seemed endless as she tried to see it in the dark of night. A bolt of lightning split the sky casting the yard in its brilliant glow.

Standing by a crumbled wall was an oddly dressed man. Kaireen leaned forward to get a closer look at him as another bolt of lightning cast its glow over the yard. The man seemed to have disappeared.

The Earl’s Curse by Donna Hatch-Moore. After we lost our home to a fire we were forced to live in our car. while my husband worked I stayed in the car with our pets. I read a lot of books and then started to write my own book. I wrote it long hand then would type the pages on an old manual typewriter I found. I wrote every day while my husband looked for work. The result was my first book, Twice In A Lifetime.

Today we are still homeless but now live in an old motorhome. My husband has found full-time work and I still write every day although now I write on a laptop my husband surprised me with for Valentine’s Day.

donnahatchmoore.net

Twitter: @donnahatchmoore

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Earls-Curse-Donna-Hatch-Moore-ebook/dp/B00JLORB9O/

The Trials of Caste

“Here, there is much mention of kobolds in this last prophecy,” he said as he began to flip the pages to the writings of one who called himself ‘Morgra, Keeper of the Covenant.’  In his heart he could feel that Two-Toes’ prophecy had given him the keys to this Canticle, and that its mysteries would be held from him no longer.

As Kiria looked on, Lord Karthan silently read the Canticle of Morgra, the pull of destiny growing in his heart.  Looking over the words, his mental faculties were increased and intensified.  In a moment, it was as if his understanding had taken on a new dimension, as if words were objects and references were the events themselves playing out in his consciousness.  Words of the Canticle spawned visions in his mind, the ebb and flow of destiny unwinding in the dealings of the races was revealed to him, and the unseen urgency of this period of time in the world of Dharma Kor’s long life span was laid bare before his eyes.

There in front of him, interlaced into the Canticle, was the destiny of his race.  There in the words of the Canticle the purpose of his race’s creation was laid bare, and the part that The Creator wanted them to play in the affairs of this world was made clear.

Then, as suddenly as this great understanding was given, it was taken back from him.  It was as if great doors with bars and locks had closed in his mind.  He was left with only a deep sense of purpose.  With tears in his eyes, Lord Karthan closed the old journal and sat back in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief.  Though the knowledge had been taken back, still the shadow of the power he had felt remained.

As the intensity of the experience began to ebb, he was suddenly aware that his daughter was speaking to him as she stood there re-reading the parchment containing Two-Toes’ prophecy.

“Well, if I read Two-Toes’ prophecy right, even though the map shows that the stone was lost somewhere in the northern valley, perhaps it, and indeed all five stones, may very well be at Palacid.  And I can only think of one dwarf tomb where this key to Palacid is, I guess, and that would have to be in the Hall of the Mountain King up in the northern valley.  Perhaps that is the quest you’ve been seeking for the yearling group,” Kiria offered.

Lord Karthan looked at Kiria intensely.  “What?”

“We should send the yearling group to find the Kale Stone?” she said hesitantly.  Lord Karthan could feel the lingering confirmation that the idea she offered was not only the course of action he should choose for the yearlings’ quest, but would begin them all on the path to fulfilling these prophecies… and their destinies, as well.

“Yes!” Lord Karthan stood up.  “The yearling group shall recover the Kale Stone!”  He knew what must be done, and when he met with the gen’s council, he knew he would make the decision that would put his gen on the path toward fulfilling their destiny.

As he stood over his desk, pondering on the now dead words of the Canticle in his mind, trying to perceive the suddenly hidden meaning within the ashes of the echoes within his heart, Lord Karthan became aware of voices downstairs in the entryway to his house.  It was his chief elite warrior talking with one of the guards, bringing news that the council was gathered for the deciding of this year’s quest.

Unaware of the great event which had just occurred in the chambers of her father’s soul, Kiria stood and walked to the door of the library to answer the summons for her father.

Joel Babbitt is an officer in the U.S. Army and a bishop in his church.  He has spent his entire adult life living and teaching principles of leadership and team building in a warrior environment.  Joel and his family live in Maryland, USA.

www.authorjoel.com

www.facebook.com/authorjoel

@AuthorJoel on Twitter