Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 378
November 19, 2015
November 18, 2015
The King's Challenge #109
TKC 109
The light in the clearing vanishes as swiftly as it appeared. Night sounds return, but Hanna and I are caught in darkness.
Stumbling, we climb the rise to our camp. I have no doubt daylight will reveal a host of bruises and scratches on my legs, arms and hands.
Without speaking, we pack up in the dark and take to the path again. We will not find sleep now; our minds are too busy.
As the sun rides the eastern peaks, Hanna says, “I don’t like it. There are too many ifs in this thing.”
“Sorcery is the main ingredient,” I murmur. “Belief in self is all well, but it takes a bit more than that to deploy the frequency needed to stop an asteroid. A woman made of light? That’s magic. Voices of those who failed? That’s magic, too. A Spire able to defend? Smacks of great feats.”
Hanna is looking at me. She says not a word.
I gaze ahead. “I now know I have abilities. I have seen and felt. Does that make me a witch? I do not think so, for those talents are of the natural world. Am I a sorceress? Does that term even exist? It implies years of practice, of knowing, and therefore cannot describe me. What am I, Hanna, and can I do this?”
Hanna too gazes ahead. “Joseph is the reader. He tells of the Rainmakers, the Healers and the Sages. All are part of who you are, talent-wise, and they are accepted in an underground manner by the more knowledgeable of Massin’s highlanders. The Elemental side, though, is where it gets tricky. There is the ability to employ frequency and to determine truth. A true Elemental is also a healer, sage and is able to summon rain.”
“I am an Elemental? Hanna, I have not summoned rain.”
“Yet,’ she grins.
The light in the clearing vanishes as swiftly as it appeared. Night sounds return, but Hanna and I are caught in darkness.
Stumbling, we climb the rise to our camp. I have no doubt daylight will reveal a host of bruises and scratches on my legs, arms and hands.
Without speaking, we pack up in the dark and take to the path again. We will not find sleep now; our minds are too busy.
As the sun rides the eastern peaks, Hanna says, “I don’t like it. There are too many ifs in this thing.”
“Sorcery is the main ingredient,” I murmur. “Belief in self is all well, but it takes a bit more than that to deploy the frequency needed to stop an asteroid. A woman made of light? That’s magic. Voices of those who failed? That’s magic, too. A Spire able to defend? Smacks of great feats.”
Hanna is looking at me. She says not a word.
I gaze ahead. “I now know I have abilities. I have seen and felt. Does that make me a witch? I do not think so, for those talents are of the natural world. Am I a sorceress? Does that term even exist? It implies years of practice, of knowing, and therefore cannot describe me. What am I, Hanna, and can I do this?”
Hanna too gazes ahead. “Joseph is the reader. He tells of the Rainmakers, the Healers and the Sages. All are part of who you are, talent-wise, and they are accepted in an underground manner by the more knowledgeable of Massin’s highlanders. The Elemental side, though, is where it gets tricky. There is the ability to employ frequency and to determine truth. A true Elemental is also a healer, sage and is able to summon rain.”
“I am an Elemental? Hanna, I have not summoned rain.”
“Yet,’ she grins.
November 17, 2015
The King's Challenge #108
TKC 108
The night’s surprises are not over. As I am about to ask how to enter the Spire, the ethereal woman leans forward.
“Lyra,” she says. “Belief is frequency. Faith is frequency. If you doubt, you will fail. If you trust yourself, you will succeed.”
I draw a breath. That has always been my understanding in all life’s conundrums. “I hear you, Sassen, but a little practical help will go a long way in easing my mind.”
She smiles wide. “Women are more practical, aren’t we?” Her smile vanishes immediately. “If you succeed, Lyra, I may move on, for you will be the lore keeper then. Please make it happen; I am weary of waiting.”
“Do I then become an apparition?” I gasp. The notion does not sit well. I then choose to fail, rather than wait as a ghost until the next catastrophe brings another to take my place.
Sassen lifts a hand. “No, this isn’t my form of waiting. This is me. I am a being of light.”
Both Hanna and I gape.
“There were and are many beings, my friends. In the current era you are simply more tangible than we were. Now,” and Sassen slaps at her thighs, “let us be practical. There is a trapdoor you need to find. Look along the lower ridges, and enter there. This will save you a climb to the peaks, for there is no door to enter the spire from the outside. The entrance is inside the mountain. Next; beware of the voices. There is no one inside, and the voices cannot physically harm you, but they will attempt to waylay and distract you from your goal. They are the leftovers from other wanderers, those who failed.”
“Where is the mechanism of control once we are inside?” Hanna asks.
“In Lyra’s mind,” Sassen murmurs.
The night’s surprises are not over. As I am about to ask how to enter the Spire, the ethereal woman leans forward.
“Lyra,” she says. “Belief is frequency. Faith is frequency. If you doubt, you will fail. If you trust yourself, you will succeed.”
I draw a breath. That has always been my understanding in all life’s conundrums. “I hear you, Sassen, but a little practical help will go a long way in easing my mind.”
She smiles wide. “Women are more practical, aren’t we?” Her smile vanishes immediately. “If you succeed, Lyra, I may move on, for you will be the lore keeper then. Please make it happen; I am weary of waiting.”
“Do I then become an apparition?” I gasp. The notion does not sit well. I then choose to fail, rather than wait as a ghost until the next catastrophe brings another to take my place.
Sassen lifts a hand. “No, this isn’t my form of waiting. This is me. I am a being of light.”
Both Hanna and I gape.
“There were and are many beings, my friends. In the current era you are simply more tangible than we were. Now,” and Sassen slaps at her thighs, “let us be practical. There is a trapdoor you need to find. Look along the lower ridges, and enter there. This will save you a climb to the peaks, for there is no door to enter the spire from the outside. The entrance is inside the mountain. Next; beware of the voices. There is no one inside, and the voices cannot physically harm you, but they will attempt to waylay and distract you from your goal. They are the leftovers from other wanderers, those who failed.”
“Where is the mechanism of control once we are inside?” Hanna asks.
“In Lyra’s mind,” Sassen murmurs.
November 16, 2015
Elaina's Notes on Reviewing
As stated before, I do believe our books deserve reviews. That is the author part of me talking, of course, but knowing how I feel, I therefore do leave reviews - as a reader. Reviews are how we tell others what we thought about a book and perhaps we then encourage other readers … andwe encourage our authors to keep writing.
Yet it is a fact that reviews are subjective. What I enjoy reading, you may not. Something I find less than interesting, you may enjoy. This is how we are; we are all different, and I love that we are all different. From a review point of view, though, maybe you question how I rate reviews I do post.
I don’t review everything I read. Some books do not in any manner create a spark of interest for me. Others are written, well, badly, and I simply abandon the book. I will not leave a terrible review; this is just how I am. If a book, in my opinion, does not merit three stars or more, it will not receive a review. I know how much work goes into writing a novel, series, short story, poem or novella, and to trash the writer’s years of work just doesn’t feel right.
I therefore post reviews of books that did in some way speak to me.
Now you ask, but how can you give a contemporary or horror novel 5 stars and then the next day a fantasy or crime novel also receives those 5 stars? These reads are completely different from each other, are they not?
The answer is that my rating isn’t about genre. I read all kinds (although my favourite is Fantasy) and every genre has a different way to tell a story and therefore elicits reactions that will be different also. I base my rating on my reactions.
A sweet romance may cause me to sob into my pillow, while an epic fantasy may have me swinging swords in my dreams. Reaction. Emotion. Therefore both deserve five stars.
Thus, don’t judge whatI read when looking at my rating; use the stars to judge my reactions to the story. Now you know J
Yet it is a fact that reviews are subjective. What I enjoy reading, you may not. Something I find less than interesting, you may enjoy. This is how we are; we are all different, and I love that we are all different. From a review point of view, though, maybe you question how I rate reviews I do post.
I don’t review everything I read. Some books do not in any manner create a spark of interest for me. Others are written, well, badly, and I simply abandon the book. I will not leave a terrible review; this is just how I am. If a book, in my opinion, does not merit three stars or more, it will not receive a review. I know how much work goes into writing a novel, series, short story, poem or novella, and to trash the writer’s years of work just doesn’t feel right.
I therefore post reviews of books that did in some way speak to me.
Now you ask, but how can you give a contemporary or horror novel 5 stars and then the next day a fantasy or crime novel also receives those 5 stars? These reads are completely different from each other, are they not?
The answer is that my rating isn’t about genre. I read all kinds (although my favourite is Fantasy) and every genre has a different way to tell a story and therefore elicits reactions that will be different also. I base my rating on my reactions.
A sweet romance may cause me to sob into my pillow, while an epic fantasy may have me swinging swords in my dreams. Reaction. Emotion. Therefore both deserve five stars.
Thus, don’t judge whatI read when looking at my rating; use the stars to judge my reactions to the story. Now you know J
Review - The Fool's Journey
This is a meandering tale about a woman who sees ghosts and falls in love after leaving her formal life in the city and moving to Wales.
I found it easy to read and interesting, although I wished for more scene breaks in the narrative. Sometimes we are here, then there, and there is no break between. Other than that, a lovely read.
3 Stars
Amazon
The King's Challenge #107
TKC 107
Gradually the ethereal Sassen moves to sit and as she does so a small glowing stool appears. She sits and smiles at us. “I am weary of always standing.”
I do not know what to think. “What do you mean the others failed? Failed at what?”
She peers at me through the veil. “The Spire, of course.”
I too sit. Leaves puddle around me. “There were others before?”
“Yes. This isn’t the first time our world has faced disaster. In the past, when it was most desperate as it is for you now, others realised there is a haven here. Naturally you cannot simply survive in Arc, not at first. With time you may grow food and build shelters, but initially you are able to die swiftly. The Spire is succour for some, defence for others, a weapon for yet others. It depends on what you need. Using the Spire requires certain talents, however, and I was the last to succeed.” Sassen sighs then. “Many died in failure.”
I swallow, for now fear of failure becomes real to me. “Tell me about the Spire.”
She spreads her hands. “It is a tower older than this world. It was brought here from another place, but that history is now forgotten. It is about frequency. Find the right resonance and you find what is most needed.”
“What did you need?” Hanna whispers, coming to sit beside me.
“We needed a siege wall. There was a war and we faced extinction. Desperate times, indeed.” Sassen points up. “The ring of mountains? That is the siege wall I created with the aid of the Spire.” Her arm falls back. “It worked, but we were too few and eventually all those who came here passed into dust and beyond memory.”
“How does frequency prevent an asteroid’s annihilation?” I ask.
Sassen smiles sadly. “That is your task to discover. I hope you succeed.”
Gradually the ethereal Sassen moves to sit and as she does so a small glowing stool appears. She sits and smiles at us. “I am weary of always standing.”
I do not know what to think. “What do you mean the others failed? Failed at what?”
She peers at me through the veil. “The Spire, of course.”
I too sit. Leaves puddle around me. “There were others before?”
“Yes. This isn’t the first time our world has faced disaster. In the past, when it was most desperate as it is for you now, others realised there is a haven here. Naturally you cannot simply survive in Arc, not at first. With time you may grow food and build shelters, but initially you are able to die swiftly. The Spire is succour for some, defence for others, a weapon for yet others. It depends on what you need. Using the Spire requires certain talents, however, and I was the last to succeed.” Sassen sighs then. “Many died in failure.”
I swallow, for now fear of failure becomes real to me. “Tell me about the Spire.”
She spreads her hands. “It is a tower older than this world. It was brought here from another place, but that history is now forgotten. It is about frequency. Find the right resonance and you find what is most needed.”
“What did you need?” Hanna whispers, coming to sit beside me.
“We needed a siege wall. There was a war and we faced extinction. Desperate times, indeed.” Sassen points up. “The ring of mountains? That is the siege wall I created with the aid of the Spire.” Her arm falls back. “It worked, but we were too few and eventually all those who came here passed into dust and beyond memory.”
“How does frequency prevent an asteroid’s annihilation?” I ask.
Sassen smiles sadly. “That is your task to discover. I hope you succeed.”
