Sol Crafter's Blog, page 22

NOVEL: Vedran’s Hand, by Harper Kingsley – Chapter Three [fantasy]

Title: Vedran’s Hand

Author: Harper Kingsley

Genre: fantasy

Rating: Adult

Landing page: http://harperkingsley.net/blog/dragon-knight

Summary: A duel to the death is to take place between two unbeaten champions. The Emperor’s Hand, the man known only as Dragon Knight, has been tasked with giving out eighteen gold seals to men and women of his choice, allowing them to witness the legendary battle between Hezzero and Nasbeth. Everyone wants an invite, and they are willing to do whatever they have to in order to get one.

Meanwhile, machinations are going on behind the scenes and someone is planning for a new Emperor to be crowned. All they need is the death of Emperor Vedran Malvorta.

CHAPTER THREE

If there was one thing Dragon had learned, it was to repay his debts. Which is how he found himself leaving the palace and walking to one of the poorer sections of the city.

Neat cobblestone had given way to rough gravel, and he kept a close watch on his purse as he adroitly bypassed the clever fingers of thieves. There was the rich scent of heavily spiced meat roasting mixed with the sour stench of improper waste disposal and poverty.

He hadn’t been back to this section of the city in years, but after a few minutes of wandering he felt almost as though he had never left. He could see himself once again as that helpless child shivering in an alley, covered in human filth and certain that he was going to die.

It was the easiest thing to go back to a small, thatched roof house he had never thought to see again. The house was well-cared for, though the poorness of its owner was obvious the closer he came. The quality of the workmanship could not compensate for the cheap supplies used to build the small shack.

He drew in a deep breath and approached the wooden door, rapping smartly with his right hand. Then he waited, both hoping and dreading what was to happen.

His sharp hearing caught the sound of movement inside, then the thud of footsteps. The lock clicked over and the door opened to show a tall man with graying brown hair and a scarred lower lip. “Yes?”

“Hello, Master Vonn,” Dragon said slowly. He felt as though someone was pressing down on his chest; it was hard to breathe. “Do you remember me?”

Vonn looked around quickly, then met Dragon’s eyes. “You are the Emperor’s Hand.” He scratched the side of his head nervously. “I haven’t done anything illegal. I’ve always tried to be an honest man.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Dragon licked his lips. “You don’t remember when we first met?”

“Have we met before?” Vonn asked in puzzlement.

Dragon shook his head sadly. “No, not recently anyway.” He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a black silk sachet that he held toward Vonn. “For you. Each seal is good for one person and a guest. You should wait to open it inside.” He glanced around quickly, catching a few eyes that were watching him with a bit too much curiosity. “There are a few too many interested parties out here.”

Vonn still looked puzzled, but he took the sachet in both hands. “Thank you?”

“No, thank you for your kind-hearted nature,” Dragon said. He gave Vonn one last lingering look, then turned and walked away.

He wasn’t quite sure what he felt, but he had to blink his eyes quickly as he walked, fighting back a stinging burn.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that Master Vonn didn’t remember him. He had been a young boy when he had met the silver smith, desperate and alone. Why should anyone have remembered him?

* * *

As soon as he slid the lock in place, Vonn sighed and leaned his back against the door. He scrubbed a tired hand over his face and couldn’t help the way his shoulders slumped.

The minute he had seen that face, he had recognized the boy he had met briefly years before. He hadn’t known what had happened to that half-starved child, had never realized that the boy had risen so high in government.

He could still remember closing up his shop and heading home only to hear a strange snuffling sound in an alley as he walked past. Caution would have had him keep moving–noises in alleys were never a good sign–but something had sent him closer to investigate.

And there, curled up amongst the garbage had been the shivering form of a dirty child. Vonn probably would have left him there and sent the Night Watch back for him later, except the boy had lifted his head and Vonn had been captured by a face of heartrending beauty.

There was no way he could leave such a pretty boy in that alley, not when he knew what would happen. There were so many predators cruising the streets that wouldn’t hesitate to scoop up such a boy and entangle him in a life no one would want to live.

He had scooped the boy up in his arms and carried him home. He had cared for him and given him a spare set of clothes and kept him long enough for the emaciated look to leave him, though his arms and legs were still stick-thin.

The boy hadn’t spoken a single word, had just looked at him out of helpless green eyes and done whatever Vonn asked with a hesitant grace, as though just waiting for the abuse to begin. It had made something unpleasant twist in Vonn’s stomach to know that someone had already hurt the child.

He had been tempted to keep the boy, but he had known it would never work. He simply could not raise a child on his own, especially not one that had suffered such obvious abuse.

It had been one of the hardest things he had ever done to pack a small knapsack with food and lead the boy to the gates of the palace. His old friend Greeves had accepted the small bribe he’d managed to scrape together and that had been the last time he had seen the boy. Though he had thought of him a handful of times over the years, wondering if he was safe and happy, working as a messenger or maybe in the kitchens or stables.

He had never been able to forget those depthless eyes–eyes that had seen far too much for any age–but he had never expected to see them again. So his shock had been absolute when he opened the door to a slender figure sporting that familiar hundred mile gaze.

It had pained him to pretend not to recognize the boy he had known in the important man before him, but he understood the reality of the situation. Dragon Knight was the Emperor’s Hand and was thus as far above him as the moon in the sky and he had no place in the life of such an important man.

He knew that there were perils involved with knowing someone like Dragon Knight, because there was always an enemy trailing after such an important person. An enemy that would have no problem using someone like Vonn as leverage, and he really didn’t want to see himself or his family dead.

Vonn sighed heavily. He was glad that the boy had done so well with his life, but there was nothing there that should involve a man like him.

“Good luck, boy,” he murmured, then pushed away from the door to head back to the dinner he’d left on the table. He tossed the sachet down next to his plate and sat down.

He would look at it later, when he could get the image of those eyes to fade back into his memory where they belonged.

* * *

Brocade lace bit into her finger tips as she ran her hands back and forth over the hem of her dress. It was a habit she had thought she’d put behind her, but it always seemed to return when she least expected it.

She sighed in disappointment and went back to flipping through the books on the table in front of her. Beautiful stories of love and happy endings that she was beginning to think she was never going to see for herself because the man she loved kept disappearing before she could confess her feelings to him.

Emera chewed on her lower lip and furrowed her brow. She’d woken up early and gone in search of Dragon Knight, but he’d already left the palace just a few minutes past dawn. It made her wonder if maybe he was avoiding her.

She sat back on the chaise lounge and opened the newest book by her favorite author and tried to enjoy the story. But all she could think about was Dragon Knight.

“Ah, sister, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Emera drew in a surprised breath and lifted her head to find Selestra standing in front of her, beautiful in a deep burgundy gown. She blinked quickly. “You’ve been looking for me?”

Selestra laughed. “Of course. I know that we haven’t been as close as we should be and I want to rectify that.” She reached out to take the book out of Emera’s hands, tossing it on the low table before pulling Emera to her feet. “Come to my solarium with me.”

“Just the two of us?” Emera asked, cocking her head. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening or how she was supposed to respond.

“Yes, silly,” Selestra said cheerily. “I think that we should be friends and true sisters. Don’t you think so?”

Emera knew that Vedran felt badly about her inability to get along with his wife, and she did love her nephew Lulius dearly. It was just that Selestra had never before wanted to get to know her. They had been as distant as strangers and had never made any attempt to become family.

“Sisters,” she said slowly, then nodded her head resolutely. “We can be sisters. That sounds wonderful.”

Selestra held her hand and led her out of the library. Emera still felt nervous and unsure, but she would take this chance to be closer to her brother’s wife. She wanted this to work.

“We are going to have so much fun,” Selestra said. “I don’t know why we never tried this before, but I’ve always felt badly about not getting to know you better. We will be the best of friends.”

“All right,” Emera said.

* * *

“Look, look, I did it!”

“That you did,” Vedran said, smiling at his son. Lulius was all bouncy energy and a teeth baring grin as he danced around in his miniature green archer’s tunic. “Now, can you do it again?”

“Of course,” Lulius said with an affronted expression. He took his stance and fired an arrow toward the target, hitting one of the outer rings. “See?”

Vedran clapped his son on the back. “Good job!”

Lulius blushed lightly and rocked back on his heels. He was so excited about getting away from his tutors and being able to spend time with his father.

It made Vedran regretful to know that he wasn’t able to spend as much time with his son as he wanted, but the restless shifting of the dozen or so attendants waiting off to one side let him know that he needed to enjoy the time they had. His duties as Emperor would only allow him a few hours with Lulius.

He decided to focus all of his attention on his son while he could. Lulius was growing up so fast and it would only be a few short years before he would be a man.

“Oh, look!” Lulius pointed behind him.

Vedran turned and couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. “Dragon!”

Dragon Knight looked up. He had been striding swiftly passed the courtyard with all of his attention focused forward, but he changed course now and walked toward Vedran and Lulius. He was dressed in surprisingly plain clothes much at odds with his usual flamboyant style and there was gray dust on his boots and all the way up to the knees of his pants.

“What’s with that expression on your face?” Vedran asked concernedly.

Dragon’s somewhat introspective expression cleared and he shrugged. “Nothing. I just…” He shook his head. “I was disappointed that someone didn’t remember me. It’s silly.”

“Who would ever forget you?” Lulius asked. “You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Lulius!” Vedran said, touching the boy’s shoulder.

Instead of being insulted, Dragon laughed and ruffled the Crown Prince’s hair, which evoked some outraged whispering from the watching courtiers that they ignored. “I know, right? I’m so strange, I would have thought he would remember me forever, but I guess not.”

Vedran couldn’t help wondering who “he” was. “And who’s this man that managed to forget the legendary Dragon Knight?” It came out sharper than he’d expected.

Dragon looked at him for a long moment, then his mouth turned up at the corners. “No one important to me now.” He lay a hand on Lulius’ head and smiled widely at Vedran, a bright expression that he seldom showed. “As long as you never forget me, nothing else matters.”

Unable to resist, Vedran reached out his arm to brush the fingers of one hand down Dragon’s sleeve, letting go before their hands met. “I could never forget you.”

He gazed into those bright green eyes and thought that maybe he could look into them forever. Then the moment was broken by Lulius holding an arrow out to Dragon. “Play with us!” he said in childish demand.

Vedran saw the cheery smile Dragon gave his son and felt warm inside. It was nice that two of his most important people got along so well.

“How could I ever refuse you?” Dragon asked, taking the arrow. He accepted the adult-sized bow Vedran offered and stepped up to the shooting line and expertly fired and hit the bull’s eye.

“Wow, you’re so good,” Lulius cheered, clapping.

“He is,” Vedran said, “but I’m better.”

“Really?” Dragon arched his brow. “Why don’t you prove it?” He tossed the bow back toward Vedran, who caught it.

“What will you give me if I win?” Vedran asked.

Dragon clutched a hand to his chest with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Gambling, really? I would have thought you would have just wanted to prove to your son that you had some kind of martial skills, but instead you want payment?” He shook his head. “How sad.”

“Oh, shut up.” Vedran made a swiping motion toward Dragon, then stepped up to the firing line. He glanced down at Lulius. “I expect high praise and much applause for my awe-inspiring shooting skills.”

Lulius covered his mouth with his hands and giggled. “Then shoot, silly.”

Vedran glanced at Dragon. “See what you have done? My son once respected me above all others, and now he calls me names and thinks me silly.”

“You are silly,” Dragon said, “now stop your ridiculous stalling and shoot already.”

“Wounded by those I love, I am forced to shoot and prove my skills once and for all.” Vedran drew and fired, watching the arrow fly swiftly and strike the center of the target right next to Dragon’s. “There? You see that I am not all boasts.”

Lulius threw his arms around Vedran’s waist and hugged him as tightly as he could. “You were wonderful.” He glanced from Vedran to Dragon and back. “Will you teach me to shoot like that?”

“Of course,” Vedran said. “Every emperor must know how to protect himself.”

“We’ll turn you into the greatest warrior emperor the world has ever known,” Dragon said. “Archery first, then swords later.”

“Can we play with swords now?” Lulius asked.

Vedran glanced at the sundial posted in the middle of the courtyard. “We have several hours,” he said, ignoring the murmurs of his waiting courtiers.

He would spend the day with his son and best friend and he would not allow himself to be rushed. One day of freedom should not be beyond his reach.

Vedran's Hand: Chapters -




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NOVEL: Vedran’s Hand, by Harper Kingsley – Chapter Two [fantasy]

Title: Vedran’s Hand

Author: Harper Kingsley

Genre: fantasy

Rating: Adult

Landing page: http://harperkingsley.net/blog/dragon-knight

Summary: A duel to the death is to take place between two unbeaten champions. The Emperor’s Hand, the man known only as Dragon Knight, has been tasked with giving out eighteen gold seals to men and women of his choice, allowing them to witness the legendary battle between Hezzero and Nasbeth. Everyone wants an invite, and they are willing to do whatever they have to in order to get one.

Meanwhile, machinations are going on behind the scenes and someone is planning for a new Emperor to be crowned. All they need is the death of Emperor Vedran Malvorta.

CHAPTER TWO

With a groan, Dragon Knight dragged himself into wakefulness. His head pounded from the wine he’d drunk the night before and his nose wrinkled at the scent of stale sex that clung to his skin. He needed some khava and a bath to make him feel more himself.

Pulling the cord on the wall, he summoned a servant. “Bring me a pot of khava and a light meal to the baths,” he ordered.

The woman bobbed a nod and hurried off while Dragon was slipping his arms into his blue silk robe and felt around for his slippers with his feet. He wondered if his nakedness had embarrassed her, but really didn’t care.

Yawning, he made his way through the hallways and down the stairs to the palace baths. There were several men already there, but he ignored them. All he wanted was to be clean.

“Dragon Knight, so you’re back, are you?” the affable voice of Lord Ferendal Sorcha boomed.

Dragon blinked and looked to find the man seated across from him in the largest bathing pool. With an internal shudder at having to deal with the man so soon after waking, Dragon shrugged out of his robe and toed off his slippers before stepping naked into the water, hissing a little as he became used to the heat.

“I enjoyed my time in the courts of Hyneria, but I thought that it was time I returned home as my duties were completed,” Dragon said, laying down on the submerged bench.

“And what exactly were those duties?” Lord Herold Pendai asked suggestively.

“You know that I do not discuss my duties for the Empire with anyone but the Emperor,” Dragon reminded them.

“Oh, but Dragon Knight, surely you can tell us some of the other things you did,” Ferendal said. “Did you enjoy your time with the Hynerian king? It is said that he’s a good looking man, just your sort.”

Dragon’s muscles had gone tense, but he kept anything from showing on his face. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think I quite understand what you’re talking about. Please explain.”

Ferendal waved a hand as though it didn’t matter. “I was just curious about how you spent some of your extra time at the Hynerian courts, that is all. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to… I just wondered if all the tales about the Hynerian king were true.”

Not looking at the man, Dragon said, “King Noa des’Alvez was a very gracious host extending every courtesy for the representative of a foreign power.”

“And did you extend every courtesy back?” Herold asked, the smirk obvious in his voice.

“I was polite,” Dragon duly replied.

“Polite, eh?” Herold chuckled a little. “Why don’t you slide over here and be polite to me?”

Dragon Knight sat up with a splash, glaring across the intervening space at the two laughing men. He could feel the other men in the back listening and watching, waiting to see how he would respond to the insults. “Would you care to clarify that sentiment a little more?” he asked, his voice almost painfully courteous even as his muscles trembled with the need to hurt. He could only be grateful that he hadn’t brought Silva Morte or the pools would have been ruined forever.

Herold waved his hand with a laugh. “No need to get upset, just a simple joke.” There was no fear in him; he truly didn’t believe that Dragon Knight could hurt him.

Dragon just looked at the man for a long moment, trying to get his control back. He knew that Vedran didn’t want him to fight with the lords of the Empire and he had always held to that. But Herold had insulted him and he wasn’t sure he should forgive it or even if he wanted to forgive it. Finally he just lay back down, letting the water wash through his pale hair. He closed his eyes and lay his hands on his stomach comfortably.

He had almost allowed himself to drift into complete relaxation when he felt a hand high on his thigh. His eyes snapped open and he glared at Herold. “Remove your hand immediately.”

The noble gave him a decidedly impudent look, a leer pulling his lips unattractively. “Oh, don’t be like that. They say you’re the Emperor’s Hand. So what part of you wraps around his hot little…”

There was no conscious decision made. It was as though a light had suddenly gone off in his head. When things cleared back up, Dragon blinked to find that he had thrust his hand completely through the man’s chest, the bloody heart clenched tight in his fist.

He stared into Herold’s wide eyes as the man aspirated his last bloody breath and began to slump forward, very much dead.

It was only a matter of course for him to pull his fist back out of the man’s chest, toss the bloody organ to one of Herold’s gaping friends, and rinse his hand off in the water. “Now that was rather unpleasant, wasn’t it? Perhaps one of you should return this mess to its family, hm?”

He rose dripping from the water, wrapping his robe around himself as he padded gently out of the room. He could hear the sudden tumult behind him, but he found that he didn’t even care. He knew that none of them would try anything with him now.

They were too afraid.

Not even the knowledge that there would be consequences could steal his satisfaction from him. He was tired of the whispers and rumors, and if they would not stop questioning his role in the Empire, at the very least they would cease to be so vocal in their wondering.

And no one would dare to insult the Emperor in his presence ever again. Not if they valued their life.

* * *

He was meeting with his ministers when a messenger hurried into the sitting room and delivered a scroll. The red ribbon denoted that it was fairly important.

“Please excuse me,” he said, pulling off the ribbon and tossing it on his desk in front of him. He drew in a silent breath before breaking the seal. “Enjoy the tea service.”

He ignored the curious looks the ministers gave him and they turned their attentions to the rather lavish bounty of pastries and sliced fresh fruit.

Vedran unrolled the scroll and began to read. He could feel his eyebrows trying to climb toward his hairline and his mouth went dry.

Dragon Knight had killed Lord Herold Pendai in the baths in a brutal display of strength.

There was no doubt in Vedran’s mind that he was going to be hearing from his lords. They would be baying for Dragon’s blood. Not that he would ever allow them to have a single drop.

He rolled the parchment back up and leaned forward to place it in the black lacquer box he kept for just that purpose. It would stay with the other important scrolls and remind him of the day Herold Pendai had been silenced forever.

He smiled at his ministers. “Now, where were we?”

First Minister of Agriculture Lord Daesun Retta cleared his throat and placed the cucumber sandwich he’d been eating on the edge of his small plate. He fastidiously wiped his hands clean on a napkin when he spoke, “We were discussing the famine in the South Province.”

“Ah, yes,” Vedran said, forcing his mind away from thoughts of Dragon Knight. “Authorize them grain and rice from the Imperial Storehouse. Also ensure they receive some dried pearapples to prevent sickness. They will need the fruit.”

“As you wish, Sire.” Retta bowed his head, then made a note in his journal.

“Deploy some troops to ensure order is maintained as well,” Vedran said. “We do not need any kind of situation.”

He remembered the food riots that had taken place a decade before. Numerous people had been hurt and nine people had lost their lives. He never wanted to see a repeat of a situation like that, not if he could stop it.

“On to other things,” he said, looking each minister in the face as he spoke. “Please make all of the preparations for the upcoming duel. We will be having some foreign delegates in attendance and it would be best if we made a good impression.”

“Of course, Sire,” Mattimeo Arreck, the Second Minister of Domestic Affairs, hastily agreed, nodding his head. “It will be as you wish.”

Vedran gave him a close look, taking in the drop of sweat on his wide brow and the nervous tremble to his upper lip. Once he was sure he’d made himself very clear, he lifted his stylus and began writing on the pad of paper on the desk in front of him. He had so very many things on his schedule that he had to make notes throughout the day.

He glanced up. “Is everything prepared for the arrival of the foreign delegates?”

“Yes, Sire,” Second Minister Arreck said. “Quarters have been arranged for them and guides have been assigned for each group. Preparations for tomorrow’s ball have already begun.”

“Good.” Vedran nodded. “If that’s all, you may see yourselves out.”

They rose in a flurry of formal work robes and bowed their way out, none daring to turn their back. He watched them go, his lips a hard line as he controlled himself until the door clicked shut behind them and he was finally alone.

Vedran rose to his feet with a sigh and walked from around his desk to go over to the large window that faced the inner courtyard garden. There were so many beautiful flowers and trees that he could stand here for hours on days when he simply needed to get away from the stress.

This garden view was the closest he ever came to the freedom he’d enjoyed in his youth.

He looked down at the large blossoms he’d had the gardeners populate the flowerbed outside his window with. Flashy orange flowers that instinctively drew the eye and had been extremely rare before he’d shown an interest in them.

Such an odd looking flower, yet so striking as well. Six vivid orange petals folding back like a star with black fuzzy stems rising from the centers. They were beautiful, but that wasn’t why they had become his favorite.

No, they were his favorite flowers because each blossom embodied the memories of his past. Each flower reminded him of the sweetest of summers and the halcyon days he refused to lose forever.

Focusing on the flower closest to the window, he couldn’t help remembering the first time he’d seen a tiger lily.

It had been shortly after Dragon had come to him and they were still just getting to know each other. They had been staying at the Black Hills Training Camp where he had been stationed until he was eighteen.

He had been panting lightly as he led Dragon through the woods on a cool down walk. He hated to admit it, but even at twelve years old Dragon Knight had been in phenomenal physical condition and was was quick to pick up skill with a sword.

“Here it is!” he called, leading the younger boy into a forest glade that had a narrow stream running through it.

“It’s good,” Dragon Knight said. His head was tipped back as he looked around and Vedran couldn’t help smiling. That was high praise coming from Dragon.

It really was a picturesque glade with verdant green grass and plenty of sunlight and water for flowers. Vedran had discovered it with Kameris and it had quickly become one of his favorite places. Its location a few miles from Black Hills also meant that it was well-within his security perimeter, so he was allowed to wander around freely, but didn’t have to deal with Imperial Guards all over him.

“This is great!”

Vedran laughed as Dragon scampered back and forth, poking into every nook and cranny and touching everything. He looked so happy, his face lively and bright.

Vedran watched him for a while, then finally turned away and walked over to the stream, pulling his shirt off over his head. His skin prickled with chilled-sweat and he hurriedly knelt and began splashing water on his face and neck. He washed his arms and chest quickly, then pulled his shirt back on, shivering slightly.

It was a beautiful day with the sun shining brightly, but there was still a briskness to the air.

He looked around until he found the perfect patch of grass and lay down on his back. He thought about taking a nap, but he didn’t feel tired, just lazy.

The clouds were so puffy and white against the rich blue of the sky. It really was the perfect day for cloud watching and daydreaming.

His vision was suddenly blocked by a close-up blur of vivid orange. He had to move his head a little to the side to see that it was a mass of strange flower blossoms.

“And what is this?” he asked.

The flowers moved back a little and Dragon’s shy, upside-down grin took their place. “I found these and wanted to give them to you. They’re very pretty.”

“That they are.” Vedran slowly sat up, giving Dragon and his flowers time to get out of his way. He turned to face the boy, who looked faintly grubby yet triumphant.

Dragon looked at the flowers contemplatively. “What are they?”

“I’m not sure,” Vedran said, standing up. “We can look them up when we go back to camp.”

“Do we have to go so soon?” Dragon asked, his mouth making a little moue of displeasure.

Vedran glanced up at the sun, gauging the time, then sighed. “I think so. If we disappear for too long someone is bound to think that something has happened to us. I’d really rather not have a bunch of guards burst upon us.”

They lingered long enough for Dragon to use the stream to wash his dirty hands and face, then they slowly walked back to camp. Dragon bounced around like an excited puppy and Vedran really couldn’t have helped his indulgent grin if he tried.

Later they placed the flowers in a vase and put them on the table in front of them while Vedran paged through a heavy book of plants. Dragon Knight sat next to him, pretending to read a smaller book while really playing with the red tassel he’d stolen off one of the curtains.

“Here they are,” Vedran said in triumph, tapping a picture.

“Let me see!” Dragon nudged in close against his arm and Vedran obligingly tilted the book toward him.

He could see Dragon’s mouth awkwardly shaping the words as he tried to read and waited patiently. “T-tiger… lily…” Dragon grinned at him. “They’re tiger lilies.”

“I guess so.”

Dragon reached out with a careful finger to delicately brush one curled petal. “They’re so pretty.” He smiled at Vedran. “I picked them for you because you deserve beautiful things.”

“That’s so thoughtful of you,” Vedran said. He was honestly touched by the gesture because it was so rare that anyone really thought of him, rather than the position he would someday fill. “Thank you.”

It was a memory he guarded in his heart as the years passed and their lives changed. Dragon’s bright grin and the sweet innocence that had seemingly been lost forever.

Standing in his office, Vedran couldn’t resist reaching a hand toward the tiger lilies outside, but instead of velvet petals, he pressed his fingertips against cool glass. They suddenly seemed so far away.

Dragon had been such a sweet boy that had always tried so hard to please the people around him. And like the tiger lilies Vedran could see but not touch, Dragon Knight had changed with the passage of time, hiding that sweetness away until some people had voiced doubt about whether he even had a heart.

Yet whenever Vedran saw the tiger lilies, he was reminded of the boy Dragon Knight used to be and the kindness the man hid deep inside. And that was why they had become his favorite flower.

Each bloom was a memory and a regret. Promises kept and unkept, some left unvoiced but resounding deep within him.

He kept the tiger lilies around him all the time because he wasn’t allowed to do the same with Dragon.

Vedran sighed and turned away from the window, slowly walking back toward his desk. Sometimes he dreamed about what his life would have been like if he had been just a man. There were so many things he would have liked to see and do.

But he was the Emperor. His life was tied forever to his people and there was no breaking those chains. Not even for all of his regrets and might-have-beens.

* * *

He received quite a few frightened glances when he entered the ballroom. It seemed that the palace gossips had spread word about what had taken place in the bathing chamber.

Dragon had spent the last day and a half languishing in his quarters, so this was the first time anyone had seen him since the “incident.” Or cold-blooded murder, as it had been bandied about, not that he cared overly much.

He’d spent his time finishing a book he’d been meaning to read and had received a marvelous massage that had left him limp and lazy. He hadn’t felt so relaxed in a very long time, and even though some of his tension was already returning to him, he still felt looser than he had been.

For a while there, he’d felt drawn so tight that it was a wonder more people hadn’t ended up dead.

The palace tailors had delivered a set of beautiful clothes and he felt sinfully decadent as he strolled through the mass of courtiers toward where he’d spotted Kameris’ head above the crowd. Silk always felt so nice against his skin and green was definitely his color when contrasted with the rich, almost wet looking black.

“And how has your evening been?” he asked, coming to stand next to his friend.

Kameris turned to give him a shrug. “I’ve eaten. I’ve drunk. And I think I might dance with some lovely ladies soon.” He quirked an eyebrow at Dragon Knight. “Care to tell me about the excitement you had yesterday?”

Dragon shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. A very foolish man dared speak offensive words about the Emperor. He paid with his life.”

Kameris winced. “What kind of fool would insult the Emperor around you?”

“Lord Herold Pendai,” Dragon said. “It was the last mistake he will ever make.”

“He never was the smartest of men,” Kameris said, shaking his head. “I suppose I will have to offer condolences to his grieving family.”

Dragon scoffed loudly, then took a quick step forward to grab a drink from the tray of a passing server. He turned to face Kameris. “Why bother?” he asked, taking a sip.

“There’s no reason to be cold,” Kameris said. “Those poor children are fatherless now.”

“And maybe they won’t grow up to be treasonous to the Empire,” Dragon said, arching an eyebrow coldly. “If they’re lucky they will be loyal, productive members of society. Otherwise they will just end up like their father.”

He could feel the shock of the people covertly listening to them, but he was sure that his message had been received. He had no mercy for those that were disloyal to the Emperor and he didn’t care if the person he killed was an adult or a child. A treasonous dog was a treasonous dog, and his blade was always sharp.

He saw Kameris flick his eyes past his shoulder and smoothly turned, taking a simultaneous step backward until he was standing next to his friend.

If there was one thing no one expected to have come up to them at a ball, it was a Paladene Warrior-Priest. Even without visible weapons, the tall, bald-headed man exuded an air of danger, every visible inch of his skin marked with the swirling rune tattoos that protected him in battle. He might have been handsome if he didn’t have a hugely disfiguring scar bisecting his face–it looked as though someone had tried to cut him in half starting from the top.

“May we assist you?” Dragon asked politely. The man had been staring too long for comfort.

The Warrior-Priest nodded his head gracefully, his plain brown robe fluttering around him. “I recognize you as the Dragon Knight. I am Kaerden Llyang. You slew my master in armed combat.”

“Perhaps you should be more specific,” Dragon said, giving him a bland look. “I participated in several skirmishes and killed many.”

Kaerden barked a bitter laugh. “So it is true. You are the unkillable warrior you have been named.” He bowed his head briefly, showing Dragon Knight the scarred top of his skull. “I greet you most humbly. We of Paladene salute your remarkable powers in battle and offer you every respect.”

“I have great respect for the Paladene people as well,” Dragon said coolly. “You are a nation of strong warriors and I would not want to face you in battle. It does nothing for one to kill so many of your strongest warriors when they would be better served in protecting your nation’s border from the demon menace.”

“Your words are truthful,” Kaerden admitted. “We too wish nothing more than peace between our nations.”

“That is very good.” Dragon waved his arm. “Please enjoy this celebration of peace. Let it remind you later of how our two peoples should get along like friends and allies.”

“May you always be so wise, Dragon Knight.” Kaerden gave a respectful bow. “I shall take my leave of you.” He nodded once, then spun on his heel and strode back through the crowd toward where he’d left his own people.

“Don’t you think that was perhaps a little rude?” Kameris asked quietly.

Dragon shrugged. “I was never very good at making speeches and indulging in pleasantries. I am the Emperor’s Hand. I am not his Voice.”

Kameris sighed and turned to take a plate from a passing server. He nibbled on a bite of cheese as he spoke, “You are an incredibly frustrating man, but perhaps you speak the truth. I have never noticed that you possessed any skill in debate.” He chuckled. “In fact, if you didn’t have such an amazing skill with a blade, I rather think you might have had to seek a career in some form of manual labor.”

“I swear to you that I am not that bad. I’ve had the same education as you’ve received.”

Kameris chucked. “Yes, but you always excelled far more in the physical arts than any other pursuits.”

Dragon rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You’re lucky you’re my friend.”

He fought the urge to duck away when Kameris slung a companionable arm around his shoulders. “I tell myself that every day.” Kameris’ eyes lit up when he spotted something across the room and he pulled away, nearly tossing his empty plate toward a passing servant. “If you’ll excuse me, I see some exceedingly attractive young women just crying out for my attention.”

Kameris slapped him on the shoulder and strode off with a purpose. It made him smile as he watched Kameris approach a group of giggling, fluttering maidens.

Even from clear across the room, Dragon could see him pouring on the charm. It made him shake his head as he drifted his own way through the crowd, barely noticing as they parted before him like a frightened school of fish before a lazy shark.

* * *

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said honestly.

Selesta smiled, brushing her free hand down her pale blue gown. The seamstresses had spent hours sewing on the small gems that sparkled and caught the light as they passed through the double doors to much fanfare and bowing. Her dark hair had been swept up in some complicated manner that had it looking like waves against the shore of her crown.

“Thank you,” she said. Her stormy blue eyes looked warmer than usual in the amber light and Vedran couldn’t help reflecting on how beautiful she looked, her edges softened somehow. Usually there was something so hard about her, sharp and cutting; tonight that had all been smoothed away and she seemed to him to be much better company.

They strolled through the parted crowd toward their golden thrones, her hand on his arm and their every footstep measured.

The Emperor and Empress of Astoria climbed the short steps and turned to sit upon their thrones. A breath caught and held through the crowd released and the processions began, the herald announcing each country’s embassy as they approached.

Already Vedran could tell that it was going to be a long evening.

Some instinct had him turning his head as Dragon Knight’s warm presence appeared at his side, standing close to his throne. “How has your evening been?”

Dragon quirked his lips, his green eyes warm on Vedran’s. “Tolerable.”

Sitting there with his Empress on the throne at his right and Dragon on his left, Vedran finally felt as though he could relax. Some breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding released and he was able to face the processions of foreign dignitaries with a suitable amount of gravity.

Things moved quickly, though he saw out of the corner of his eye that Dragon wasn’t really paying attention to the ambassadors. He was very conscious of any possibility of attack, but he could really have cared less about the very important men and women themselves.

It sent a feeling of uncontrollable fondness through Vedran. There was a very good chance that Dragon was never going to change, and that would be all right.

Vedran could handle all of the political intrigue as long as Dragon Knight was there to protect him.

Then the Paladene ambassador was there with a handful of Warrior-Priests at his back. Vedran had met the man before–some cousin of a cousin of the king–but what he really wasn’t liking at the moment was the way the man’s eyes immediately went to Dragon Knight and lingered there.

“It is a pleasure to meet such a powerful lord,” the ambassador said, though his eyes kept flicking to Dragon, “and your legendary warrior. Already you have become part of many of our stories. Your name is well known far across the land, the unkillable Dragon Knight.”

Vedran gripped the arm of his throne tightly, glad that his sleeve would cover the white tension of his knuckles. He felt a surge of something go through him, a dark emotion that made him want to lash out at the man.

“I would never go so far as to say that I am unkillable.” Dragon’s face was calm and there was barely any inflection to his voice. “Instead, I would say that I am simply strong in my convictions.”

“And what are those?” the Paladene ambassador asked. His eyes were as avid as a bird, hungry things that wanted to devour all that they saw.

In return, Dragon Knight’s eyes were like gimlets in his expressionless face. “I believe in my country and my people. Most of all, I believe in my Emperor and the vision he has for us.”

“Your loyalty is commendable.” The ambassador looked at Vedran. “You should be pleased to have such a loyal and capable servant.”

Vedran felt a bit put out, though he didn’t let it show on his face or in his voice. “I am very pleased with him.”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged before the ambassador drifted off, leaving a bad taste in Vedran’s mouth. There had just been something so unpleasant about the man.

“I see you made quite an impression on the Paladene people,” he said, barely turning his head.

Dragon’s lips quirked into a slight half-smile. “They are simply easily impressed.”

“So modest,” Vedran said.

Dragon’s laugh was rich velvet. “You are probably the only one that has ever thought so.”

“I’m possibly the only one that knows just how kind-hearted you are,” Vedran replied.

“You look at me through shrouded eyes.” Dragon shook his head ruefully. “I find that I like that vision of me the best.”

Vedran wanted to reach out his hand and brush his fingers against Dragon’s, to remind him that he was just a man and not a legend. “You have never changed,” he said. “Not in my eyes.”

They stayed like that: Vedran on his throne, and Dragon Knight at his side. It was a peaceful moment that Vedran was glad to add to his memories of his best friend.

Then the moment was broken as Selestra commanded in her brittle voice that the dancing recommence.

Vedran's Hand: Chapters -




OneTwoThree

NOVEL: Vedran’s Hand, by Harper Kingsley – Chapter One [fantasy]

Title: Vedran’s Hand

Author: Harper Kingsley

Genre: fantasy

Rating: Adult

Landing page: http://harperkingsley.net/blog/dragon-knight

Summary: A duel to the death is to take place between two unbeaten champions. The Emperor’s Hand, the man known only as Dragon Knight, has been tasked with giving out eighteen gold seals to men and women of his choice, allowing them to witness the legendary battle between Hezzero and Nasbeth. Everyone wants an invite, and they are willing to do whatever they have to in order to get one.

Meanwhile, machinations are going on behind the scenes and someone is planning for a new Emperor to be crowned. All they need is the death of Emperor Vedran Malvorta.

CHAPTER ONE

The man known as the Emperor’s Hand was certainly not what people expected on first sight. He looked more like an expensive courtesan than a topless fighter and the Emperor’s most trusted champion.

He was younger than most people thought he would be, and too pretty by far. He dressed in the height of fashion and looked as though he had never swung a sword in his life. To see him, he looked like yet another worthless noble living off the wealth of his family. Few would have ever thought that he had built himself up from nearly nothing, using his family name to earn the chance to serve the Emperor, but becoming the Hand on his own.

The name that he was known by was Dragon Knight. He had been an orphan even before he came to the palace, so there was no one to remember of what family line he had originated from. All anyone knew was that he was the Emperor’s most loyal servant, fulfilling any need that arose.

So when he was summoned before the Emperor, he did not hesitate a moment to answer the call.

“You sent for me, Sire?” he said, kneeling before the golden throne.

“Ah, Dragon, it is good that you are here,” Vedran said, looking up from the scroll he was reading to give his most loyal servant a warm and welcoming smile. “I have a little job I want you to do for me.”

“Yes, Sire, what do you wish for me to do?” Dragon bowed his head, exposing his bared neck as an offering, showing the trust that he only placed in the Emperor. No one else would ever see him in such a vulnerable position.

“Hezzero has challenged Nasbeth to a duel that is to be held in the Imperial Coliseum,” Vedran said. “I want you to oversee the duel, and in that capacity I am giving to you eighteen golden seals that you are to gift to whoever you think best. Each seal will allow one person with a guest to enter the Coliseum to witness the duel.”

“What criteria would you like me to use for the gifting?” Dragon asked.

Vedran smiled at him. “That is up to you,” he said. I trust that whoever you choose will be the appropriate choice.”

Dragon bowed his head again. “As you wish, Sire. I will ensure that those that are chosen are the best ones to view the duel.”

“Whoever you choose will always be the best,” Vedran said, his eyes sparking for a second with something Dragon didn’t dare name.

Dragon moved gracefully forward on his knees to press a kiss against Vedran’s offered ring. It was the sigil of the Empire, representative of the power that he served so faithfully. The hand that wore it was the hand of his oldest and greatest friend, his master since he was an orphan child and Vedran was Crown Prince Vedran Malvorta.

Now they were both men, one an emperor, the other his most loyal servant. They no longer had the kind of freedom they had enjoyed when they were young, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still close, it just meant they had to be more careful about how they showed their affection, or if there was any for others to see.

“Be careful out there,” Vedran whispered just for Dragon’s ears.

Dragon raised his eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of his friend’s face. “Always,” he breathed, knowing that Vedran felt his assent against his skin.

Dragon rose to his feet and backed slowly away from the throne, never once turning his back on the Emperor. “Your will is my command,” he intoned, the traditional phrase of leaving for a servant of the Emperor.

Vedran picked up a scroll he had set aside and went back to reading it. He didn’t look at Dragon again, his body screaming that he had no more interest in Dragon, but the eyes that he hid told a different story. He wanted more than anything to run to his friend, to hug him again, to laugh with him, to once again be as carefree as they were when they were children, back before the well-being of the Empire intruded on their friendship.

The Emperor’s Hand, known as Dragon Knight, left the throne room without a single glance back. He had been given a task to perform and he would complete it to the best of his ability.

He was barely through the double doors that guarded the audience chamber when Emera was on him, all bubbling enthusiasm and youthful invulnerability.

“Dragon! Dragon!” She threw her arms around him and hugged him hard. “I haven’t seen you in nearly two months! Where have you been?” Her face scrunched up in childish anger that quickly melted away into a delighted grin. She was always so happy to see him.

“I have been on the Emperor’s business, Princess,” he said, granting her a smile. He knew that he was nearly her only friend other than her brother and Kameris.

She slapped him on the arm. “Well, you should have told me before you left. I kept thinking you were going to come walking in, and you haven’t until now. I missed you so much and I didn’t know where you were.”

“Why didn’t you ask Kameris?” he asked.

She shrugged and pouted. “He wouldn’t tell me where you were, just said it was the Emperor’s business. He wouldn’t even tell me when you were supposed to be back. I was going out of my mind with missing you.” She hung on his arm, laying her cheek against his sleeve as she gazed up at him.

He smiled down at her. Princess Emera Malvorta was a pretty young woman with an exuberance for life that simply could not be ignored. She threw herself head first into everything that she did and never really seemed to consider the consequences of her actions. Which meant that trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went and Dragon was always the one that had to save her from whatever she managed to get herself into.

“I missed you too,” he said. “You always make me smile and I really needed a smile during this last mission.”

“What happened?” she asked.

He squeezed her gently. “You know I can’t tell you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, classified mission.”

Dragon tugged her along with him. “Come with me. I will buy you the largest, most delicious pastry at the bazaar.”

“Ooh!” she squealed, hurrying him along even more. “Let’s go!”

He enjoyed her enthusiastic response to everything that life brought her. If it was up to him, she would never have a reason to frown.

The bazaar was busy at any time of day, though they managed to find a table at an open air bistro and settled in against the comfortably padded chairs. The richly dressed man and woman received a few curious looks, though none dared approached once they spotted the hard-eyed men and women that lurked in the princess’ shadow, prepared to give their lives in her protection.

Dragon Knight bought a sweet, fruity drink and a honey and nut pastry for Emera, and a mug of khava for himself. He had no real liking for sweet things, though he enjoyed the way the princess’ eyes lit up when she received her treat.

There was something relaxing about being in her company. She was just so uncomplicated that he never had to fear dissimulation on her part because she was just exactly what she appeared: a pretty girl that looked up to him as her older brother’s dearest friend.

“What did brother tell you you had to do?” Emera asked, leaning back in her chair.

Dragon Knight shrugged. “Hezzero and Nasbeth are having a duel on the Greens. There are going to be eighteen outside invitations and I’m supposed to decide who they go to since I am overseeing the whole fiasco.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the eighteen golden discs, each marked with the personal seal of the Emperor and hung with a thin, woven chain.

“Wow!” Emera reached out to take one, but Dragon hurriedly tucked them back into his pocket. She pouted a little, but let it go. “How are you going to choose who gets one?”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Well, think fast or there’s gonna be trouble. Everyone’s gonna want one of those invites.”

Dragon nodded. “I know. I really wish Vedran hadn’t given this task to me. It’s a headache just waiting to happen.”

Emera laughed. “That’s what you get for being the Emperor’s Hand. All the impossible tasks are automatically assigned to you.”

Dragon sighed and sipped his khava. The weather was a little cool, which made him appreciate the hot drink. He had never been very fond of the cold, and it looked like it was going to be a rough winter this year.

“Do you know why Hezzero and Nasbeth are fighting?” Emera asked.

“Hezzero accused Nasbeth of being the one that killed his brother last year during the Paladene Incursion,” Dragon Knight said.

Emera stroked her chin thoughtfully. Her brow was lightly furrowed, which gave her face a rather quizzical air, like a young owl. “If Hezzero thinks Nasbeth killed Tark, then why did he wait so long to call him out? I would think he would have done it right after they got back.”

Dragon shrugged. “Hezzero said he just got information about it a month ago.”

“From who?”

“He wouldn’t say. I’m a little suspicious about the suddenness of the accusations, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Hezzero’s not listening to anyone, and Nasbeth had no choice but to accept the challenge after all the insults Hezzero threw at him. Now they’re going to have a fight to the death at the Imperial Coliseum with the Court and eighteen witnesses all in attendance.”

“Wow,” Emera said. “Everyone is going to want to be there, and you’re the one they’re going to have to go through. You’re not going to have any peace until this is all over.”

“I know,” Dragon said. “I really wish Vedran hadn’t done this to me. I don’t really appreciate the circus my life is about to become.”

Emera laughed and lightly slapped his hand. “When is the duel?”

“Five days,” he said.

“Well then, that’s not very long at all, and once it’s all over you’ll have your peaceful life back the way it was.”

“I can only hope.”

Emera grinned.

* * *

Kameris waited until Dragon Knight was halfway through the door before pouncing, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Once he had Dragon down, he began lightly slapping the other man on the cheeks, making him flinch.

“Hey, you garzak, what do you think you’re doing?” Dragon demanded, bucking his hips to throw him off. Kameris could tell it wasn’t a serious attempt or he’d be halfway across the room with a fist-sized hole through some part of his anatomy.

“Come on, admit it, you like the power and control of being the one to decide who gets to see Nasbeth and Hezzero’s duel.” Kameris leaned forward until his mouth was next to Dragon’s ear. “Does all that power give you a hard on, or what?”

Dragon growled and suddenly flung him off, sending him rolling and sliding across the floor until he hit the wall with his back. “That is nowhere near funny, Kameris. You know this whole appointment has upset me, and I really do not need your attempts at humor making things worse.” Dragon rose gracefully to his feet, as though he hadn’t been lying full out on the floor just seconds before.

Kameris chuckled and rolled to his own feet. “Aw, D, I didn’t mean to hurt your delicate feelings.”

Dragon gave him a disgruntled look and crossed the room to the cabinet next to the window where he fetched himself a bottle of red wine. “You know how far from delicate I truly am,” he said, popping the cork and drinking directly form the bottle. “Just because I like the finer things, everyone assumes that I am as fragile as I appear.”

“You’re just too pretty,” Kameris cooed, fluttering his eyelashes. “You need to ugly yourself up. Maybe a few nasty facial scars or…” He stopped at the killing glare Dragon was giving him. “It was just an idea, no need to get hostile.”

“I am not going to let anyone think that they’ve bested me just so I can have some disgusting scars to show off. If anything, scars like that would be a sign of an inability to use a sword properly, or at the very least an inability to duck.”

That, and you don’t want Vedran to see you at less than your best, Kameris thought, then hurriedly buried the irreverent idea. A person never knew when someone was Listening, and thoughts like that about the Emperor and his Hand were nothing but trouble. Besides, they were his friends and he knew the painful truth of things, and it really was nothing to laugh about.

Sighing quickly, he threw himself backward into a comfortable chair. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asked.

Dragon smiled at him. “I was thinking we could pay a little visit to Lady Merris’ fine establishment. I have a bit of energy I would like to work off.’

Kameris rolled his eyes. Of course Dragon would want to visit the most expensive pleasure house in the city, especially after an audience with the Emperor and accepting such a headache of a task.

“All right, let’s go,” Kameris said. “Those lovely ladies are going to need a chance to rest up after you’re done exhausting them with pleasure.”

Dragon laughed, but it was nothing like his real laugh, which Kameris hadn’t heard in years.

Sometimes Kameris missed the days before Vedran became Emperor, when it was just the three of them against the world. Dragon used to really laugh then. Vedran would smile and tell jokes and it was less like he was carrying the burdens of the world on his shoulders. And Kameris had had his two best friends and there were a lot less lies for any of them to live.

Lady Merris was happy to see them, as usual. A visit from Dragon Knight was invariably a profitable one since he had unlimited access to the Imperial Treasury.

Kameris remembered all the objections the Imperial Advisors had made when Vedran had ordered that Dragon be given full access to anything he wanted. It had been like someone had knocked down a hornet’s nest for a few days until Vedran had stepped in and commanded that his orders be obeyed. Dragon was to have whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, no questions asked.

And how did Dragon use that great largess? To pay for whores and fancy clothes. Unlimited funds at his fingertips, and all he wanted was pretty clothes and sex. It made Kameris wonder what the people of the Empire would think if they knew about the untold power the Hand could have, but didn’t even try for.

Kameris had heard all of the whispers and rumors told about the Emperor’s Hand. To most people, Dragon Knight was a complete mystery, the Emperor’s shadow, with no family and no past. He had just appeared one day at the Crown Prince’s side as a child and had stayed there as Vedran rose to power.

Other than the few people that had survived seeing Dragon Knight in action, there were few that really believed he was anything more than an Imperial ornament. They saw his pretty face and body and labeled him useless, unable to believe that anyone so beautiful could have any more purpose than to be visually appealing.

Watching Dragon disappear up the stairs with four of Merris’ best, Kameris couldn’t help but to see why people would believe the rumors about Dragon Knight. The man spent far too much time in the pleasure houses and all of the proprietors knew him by name.

With a sigh, Kameris allowed himself to be led away by a buxom redhead. It would be several hours before Dragon was ready to leave and there was no sense wasting the opportunity to find his own enjoyment.

Sometimes he wished that things could be different. In a better world, Vedran and Dragon Knight wouldn’t be so miserable all the time. None of the lies would ever have been told and there never would have been any hurt feelings. In a better world, things could magically go back to the way they were when they were children, when they were happy, back before everything went out of control.

Allowing the redhead to undress him, Kameris pushed aside his melancholy thoughts and focused on the girl and her rather obvious charms.

Pounding his fist on the closed door, Kameris yelled loudly, “Are you done in there, D? It’s time for us to get back.”

“Just come in,” Dragon Knight’s voice ordered in exasperation. “I swear, I sometimes have to wonder if you were ever trained in the niceties of polite company. Screaming at me through the door, bothering everyone.”

Kameris grinned at him cheerfully once he got the door open. “I truly doubt there’s anyone here that’s sleeping, and if they are, they better wake up before they end up owing a fortune for services rendered.”

Dragon was lying on the large bed, the red satin sheets pooled over his bare lap. The four women rested beside him, their hair spread around them as they slept curled together. Four women, all exhausted by one man. Kameris could almost be jealous.

“Come on, Dragon, we have to get back before second bell if you plan on conducting interviews tomorrow.”

“Interviews for what?”

“To decide who receives the invitations,” Kameris sighed.

“Oh, that. What will be, will be,” Dragon said, stretching and sitting up. Muscles flexed under the smooth flesh, not a single scar in evidence. Some people would take the lack of scars to mean a lack of experience, but Kameris knew it just mean Dragon Knight was that good. No one had ever managed to get the best of him, and if they did, they were never able to leave a permanent mark.

Few people ever got the opportunity to see the Dragon Knight go all out, and those that did understood perfectly why he was the Emperor’s Hand. He was never so beautiful as when he wad a sword in his hand an enemy against the Empire to face. He danced divinely, his passion undeniable, and his purpose fully disclosed.

Dragon Knight was a weapon in the service of the Empire. His beauty was just a camouflage for his lethality.

As Dragon rose from the bed and began dressing with a calm efficiency, Kameris could only wonder how more people couldn’t see his true nature. It was just hard to believe that so many people could be that blind, unable to see the predator in their midst even as he evaluated them for consumption.

From the first moment he had seen him, Kameris had known that Dragon was dangerous, and never mind that he was just twelve at the time, four years younger than him and Vedran. Even as a child, Dragon was not someone to mess with.

“Very well then,” Dragon said, shrugging into his jacket, “let’s go.” He walked out the door, not giving the women a single backward glance. His time with them was done and he had no more interest in their charms.

Kameris flashed the women a toothy smile before following Dragon out. “I still don’t know how you do it,” he said as they were walking down the stairs. “Four women all exhausted from a single night with you, and you could probably go another ten rounds before having to sleep.”

Dragon shrugged unconcernedly. “I have a high threshold for both pleasure and pain. The same ability that allows me to withstand torture also means that it takes more for me to receive release.”

“From their satisfied expressions, I don’t think the women look down on the ability.” As they walked down the stairs, Kameris bumped shoulders with his friend, knocking him against the banister, and shot him a grin.

Dragon snorted and opened his mouth to say something when the front doors slammed open.

“Dragon Knight! Bring me Dragon Knight!” the mountain of a man thundered. He was dressed in rough cured leather breeches, furry boots, a tan shirt, and a dirty brown fur around his shoulders. Behind him stood four other men, all roughly dressed and tough looking.

“And who might you be?” Kameris asked, stepping in front of Dragon.

“Are you Dragon Knight?” the man demanded, his right hand holding the hilt of his barbarian-style sword.

“And if I was, what would you do about that?” Kameris asked mildly, using his body to completely block Dragon from view.

“I heard Dragon Knight had eighteen invitations for the duel between Nasbeth and Hezzero. I want five of them,” the big man growled.

“Why do you think you should have them?” Kameris asked.

“Because if Dragon Knight doesn’t give me those invitations, I’ll make him,” the man growled, his meaty hands curling into ham-sized fists. “Me and the boys are going to see that duel no matter what.”

“Is that so,” Dragon Knight said, shoving Kameris out of his way and standing forward. “And how exactly will you make me give you those invitations?”

“You’re Dragon Knight, the Emperor’s Hand?” the big man asked in disbelief, staring at the much smaller man. “I heard tell Dragon Knight was as pretty as a girl, but I didn’t put much store by it. But look at you!”

Kameris winced when the man laughed. He wanted to tell the man to stop before it was too late, but he knew that wouldn’t work. The man had already formed an opinion about Dragon Knight based on physical appearance and he wasn’t going to change it until he was on the ground either spitting up blood or dead.

Dragon seemed to vibrate with anticipation for the violence to come. There was no other time when he was so alive as when he was teaching someone the error of their ways. It was kind of frightening how involved he got when he was fighting. It was as though he completely shut out the rest of the world.

“So,” Dragon purred, “you think that you’re going to force me to give you five invitations to the duel?” He laughed, a spine chilling sound. “I really do not think so.”

The man looked unnerved for a moment, then straightened his shoulders with a growl. “It don’t matter what you think. I’ll get those invitations and either you’ll give ‘em to me freely or I’ll take them for myself.” He stepped forward, half drawing his sword in preparation for things to come.

Kameris might have tried to stop things, but he knew better than to get in Dragon’s way. So he hurriedly moved to the side and readied himself to watch what was going to happen.

Even knowing how fast Dragon Knight was, he still managed to be surprised when the big man reached for his blade and Dragon blurred forward.

Dragon Knight’s sword was out of its sheath before the bigger man could even finish drawing his own, and with a SWISH! SWISH! KWIK! it was over.

Dragon had literally sliced through the other man’s blade to remove his head.

The four companions took one look at what had become of their leader and turned and ran away.

“Well that was certainly disappointing,” Dragon said with a snort of derision. He flicked his sword, flinging off the small amount of blood marring the blade, then sheathed it. “I was hoping for something a bit more energetic. It really wasn’t worth drawing Silva Morte for that.”

Kameris blew out a breath he didn’t remember holding. “I really didn’t expect you to draw that blade.”

“And what else was I supposed to do?” Dragon asked. “That oaf was attempting to steal the invitations that had been entrusted to me.”

“But still… Silva Morte…” He was very disturbed that that sword had been used.

Silva Morta, or Silver Death, was Dragon Knight’s official blade, the one he used in his more darker capacities as the Emperor’s Hand. Once he drew it, the blade was always used to take a life. It could not be sheathed until someone was killed.

“It’s just a sword,” Dragon said. “Besides, I knew I was going to kill the man, so why not use the appropriate instrument for the task?”

Kameris sighed. Dragon simply didn’t understand and probably never would. “Whatever. Let’s get you home before Vedran orders out the guard to find you.”

Dragon shrugged and followed him out into the cold night air. They both just stepped over the dead body as though they no longer saw it. Lady Merris would call the Night Watch and they would send someone out to collect the body.

Slinging one arm across Dragon Knight’s shoulders, Kameris leaned down to speak in the ear of his much shorter friend. “So, do you have any idea who you’re going to give those invitations to?”

Dragon flashed him a suddenly cheeky grin that was as cute as it was rare. “Nope. I just figured they could go to whoever asked the nicest.”

“Maybe you could sell them?” Kameris suggested.

Dragon rolled his eyes. “What would I need with money?”

Kameris shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be for you. I could use some money.”

Dragon slapped him lightly on the arm, then snuggled back into the shared warmth. “You are still a complete child sometimes.”

Kameris grin was unrepentant. “I know.”

* * *

Watching out his window, he breathed a sigh of relief to see Dragon Knight and Kameris return to the palace. He always worried that something was going to happen to them when he wasn’t there to watch their backs.

With a heavy sense of regret, he accepted the mantle of responsibility back on his shoulders and turned to return to bed. It was late and he knew tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

The various foreign diplomats were arriving for the signing of the non-aggression treaty and the state ball afterward. At least the Paladene Incursion had had one positive affect.

Vedran's Hand: Chapters -




OneTwoThree

Tag Party details for participants

What is a Tag Party?

On the day chosen to start off the party (Monday, May 7th, 2012) a picture will go up on the event page with various characters in a bingo-like square. Entrants “tag” the numbered pictures with what fictional character they most think it looks like/reminds them of, making sure to list the source.

Those who would like to play either give their answer through Twitter, or in the comments on the entry page if they do not have a Twitter account. The hashtag for the game will be given out on Monday, so as not to ruin the fun (no premature hashtagging here!) Then the public at large gets to cast their votes, and on Friday, May 11th, 2012, the prizes will be given out to the peoples’ choices.

That’s where you come in.

I am currently looking for awesome prizes to award our fun-loving entrants. Mostly digital in nature so there’s no shipping involved, I’m looking for ebooks and people willing to supply them, no pirate booty please.

If you decide to contribute, your prizes will be listed on the entry page with a link to your blog or website, though this is a game open to EVERYONE, so maybe you’d like to create a post to link to that describes the kind of prize you’re offering, some things about you, and just a general outline of what your blog is all about. Please keep your post PG-13. If your blog is straight up NSFW, but you still want to contribute a prize, we can work something out. I’m willing to make a post on my blog for you. Just let me know.

The straight deets:

All prizes will be listed in the Prize Vault with a link to the contributor’s blog or website.
You can include a link to your Twitter or public Facebook page.
All you have to do is send me a copy of the ebook or details of whatever prize you’re offering.

If you would like to join the party, please leave a comment here or email me at HarperKingsley0.0 @ gmail.com and I’ll get back to you.

“Heroes & Villains” by Harper Kingsley [superhero, science fiction, mm]

Title: Heroes & Villains

Author: Harper Kingsley

Genre: superhero, science fiction, gay

Word count: 135,000+

Novel rating: M

Excerpt rating: PG-13

Summary: Starburst – loser, joke, failed superhero.

Darkstar – powerful, dark legend, supervillain.

Both Vereint Georges

Vereint has spent his entire life dreaming about being a superhero, and now he’s registered his name and set out to make his dream a reality.

Except nothing is going quite the way he planned.

No one respects him. His name – Starburst – is mocked far and wide. And Blue Ice – the hero he’s looked up to for years – thinks he’s nothing but a loser and a joke.

So what other choice does he have but to force the world to respect him?

And to that end he transforms himself into the world’s most feared supervillain. Darkstar.

Set in a world where metahumans are fairly common, Vereint has been gifted with extraordinary power. Unfortunately, with great power does not come great popularity. Not until the good boy goes bad… then the wannabes pop out of the woodwork and bring terror to the world at large in his name (“AS DARKSTAR WILLS THE DARKSTERS FOLLOW.”)

Reminiscent of the comic books of old, the world of “Heroes & Villains” is actually a pretty grim one. With one okay from the CMPF (Central Metahuman Policing Force) a metahuman found breaking the law can lose all of their basic human rights. If they’re lucky, they’re executed. If they’re not lucky… well, no metahuman wants to end up in Butcher Bay.

The good guys in “Heroes & Villains” aren’t so good, and the bad guys aren’t so bad. And Vereint is just a guy that wants to get ahead in the world.

EXCERPT:

He walked away, stiff-backed, toward one of the recruitment booths for a group calling itself “The Society Of Sociopaths.” Anyone whose acronym was SOS either had to be interesting… or stupid. He kind of wanted to see which.

“Are you interested in our group?” the heavily cowled man behind the table asked.

Vereint looked over the brochures arranged on the tabletop, some of them looking expensively glossy and full colored. These guys had gone out of their way to make themselves look appealing to people that didn’t know any better. “I’ve never heard of your group before,” he said, “are you guys new?”

“New? Us? No way. We’ve been around since the beginnings of organized crime. Our group is one of the most respected groups in the metahuman community. We have very strict recruitment standards, which is why we’re not too well-known outside of meta circles.”

“Really?” Vereint asked. “So why are you recruiting here?”

“We’ve recently lost a few of our members in a wide-scale super battle versus the League of Superheroes. Because of that, we made the hard decision to open our doors to new recruits, so attendees of Gatcha-con are lucky enough to be given the first opportunity to sign up for consideration. The sign-up is here, but there is a rigorous testing period, then the recruit will be considered by the full Society of Sociopaths council before any final decision is reached.”

Vereint flipped through a pamphlet, reading some of the information inside. It wasn’t really that awe-inspiring, but he could see how someone who didn’t know any better could be sucked in.

“This seems very interesting,” he said. “You guys have been around for a long time, huh?”

“Oh yes. We’re one of the original super groups,” the guy said. “We are very respected in the meta community and anyone that joins our group is destined for nothing but greatness.”

“And what was your name?” Vereint asked.

“I’m Major Malfunction,” the guy said. “My power is the ability to cause any electronics device to malfunction.”

“Wow, that must be hell on anyone with a pacemaker,” Vereint said.

The guy’s mouth twisted nastily. “You have no idea. One trip near the old folks home and I can make people drop like flies.”

“Do you do that often?” Vereint asked, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. The guy was just a little too greasy for his peace of mind. Plus, he was talking about killing old people.

“Not really,” Major Malfunction said. “King Alpha, the head of the Society, doesn’t really like that kind of publicity. He’s not really into the flashy stuff. It’s one of the reasons why he’s not so fond of Darkstar,” he gestured at Vereint’s outfit.

“Really,” Vereint said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of King Alpha, and I have a pretty good memory for names.”

“Well, he doesn’t like the publicity, like I said. He would rather be the power behind the scenes. All the major heroes and villains know who he is.”

“Really. Including Darkstar?”

The guy smiled brightly. “Oh yes. They like to keep it all hush-hush, and King Alpha doesn’t like to toot his own horn so he hasn’t really been yelling it around. But a couple months ago Darkstar was messing around in Society territory, and King Alpha put him in his place.”

Vereint didn’t even try to stop the surprise from crossing his face. “He beat up Darkstar? Is that what you’re really saying?”

“I don’t know if I would say he gave the guy a beat down, but pretty much, yeah.” Major Malfunction grabbed one of the pamphlets and flipped through it to a certain page. He tapped an image. “Here, this is a picture of King Alpha. Do you honestly think a pussy like Darkstar would be able to stand up to someone that awesome?”

Vereint dropped the pamphlet he held onto the table and took the one Major Malfunction held out. The man pictured certainly was hugely muscled and impressive looking, all ripply and tendony. He also didn’t happen to be anyone Vereint had ever seen before, either in costume or out.

“Wow, dude looks big,” he said.

“Yeah. This picture doesn’t even do him any justice,” Major Malfunction said. “I’m not very little, and King Alpha is close to twice as tall as me. They had to custom build all the furniture he uses at Society headquarters.”

“Impressive,” Vereint said through gritted teeth. “And King Alpha beat Darkstar with no trouble at all?”

Major Malfunction quickly glanced around before leaning in close. “The League of Ultimate Evil is trying to keep it quiet, but King Alpha made that pussy cry. There’s talk that he fucked him up so bad he almost died. That’s why he hasn’t been in the news lately, no close-ups anyway.”

“Why would the League want to keep it quiet, though? They don’t really have anything to do with Darkstar,” Vereint said.

“That’s what they want you to think,” Major Malfunction scoffed. “They’re all in each others’ pockets. Darkstar is their personal pet project. They’re the ones that built him up, that’s why he was able to rise so fast in the city. They’re going to wait a little while, then they’re going to make Darkstar their new puppet. It’s the kind of thing they’ve been doing for years. It’s one of the ways they’ve kept power in the city.”

“Whoa, that’s some heavy stuff. So if the League is trying to make a… a supervillain monopoly, then why doesn’t your Society of Sociopaths use your amazing powers to stop them?” Vereint asked.

“Because we’re not stupid. The League of Ultimate Evil is in the pocket of the League of Superheroes. They work together so that they can both be known as the primary super groups. Darkstar is their newest toy, and pretty soon the League of Superheroes is going to pick who’s going to be his nemesis and they’re going to be the only news happening in the city. Best bet is that Darkstar is going to be paired with Lady Arcana.”

“Why her?” Vereint asked, genuinely curious.

Major Malfunction shrugged. “Because she’s the hottest thing most of those sweaty fisted virgins have ever seen. Whenever she and Darkstar battle it out, all anyone’s going to be able to think about is the two of them duking it out buck naked like wild animals.”

Vereint thought about Lady Arcana a moment. Sure, she was pretty hot, but she was also the coldest fish he had ever run across in his life. And there was no way she was even close to his power levels. “You don’t think a fight between Darkstar and Lady Arcana would be a little one-sided?”

“Nah,” Major Malfunction said confidently. “The media talks up Darkstar’s power levels. All anyone cares about is that he’s good-looking, and that’s why his story has been spun so far out of belief. In reality, he’s only a little stronger than Beta-class. I could probably take him out if I wanted to go there.”

“You really think you could take on Darkstar?” a disbelieving voice demanded loudly.

Vereint turned to see that Masque had somehow wandered up without him noticing. She had ditched the disguise and was wearing her regular outfit, probably just to deal with the situation she had noticed developing. She was focused on the guy in front of him and his awesome claims.

“Yeah, what of it?” Major Malfunction asked, glaring at her. He either didn’t recognize her as the real deal, or was foolish enough to think that he could take her on. Vereint wasn’t quite sure which. “What are you doing here, hero? This con isn’t exactly for your kind.”

“I just came over when I heard you being stupid,” Masque growled. There was a bit of a crowd gathering behind her as they realized that a real superhero was in attendance. “You do realize that Darkstar is a pretty big name and that there’s plenty of people that would fuck you up just for saying his name, right?”

“Oh yeah, and why should anyone care that I called him a pussy?” Major Malfunction asked.

Masque shook her head, her blond ponytail whipping back and forth. “Because some of the small-timers and minions think that if they do things like beat up and kill anyone that disses him, they’ll get on his good side. So if you keep up the strong talk, someone might just ace your spade.”

Vereint snorted into his hand. She had a flair for the dramatic and liked to use some pretty weird talk. It was funny.

“I can handle anyone that comes my way,” Major Malfunction said. “I’m one of the top members of the Society.”

“The Society?” Masque asked, sounding genuinely confused. “The Society of what?”

“The Society of Sociopaths!” Major Malfunction waved his hand at the banner. “We’re one of the original super groups.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” Masque said, shaking her head. Someone in the crowd drifting around her laughed and said something snarky to a friend.

The bits of Major Malfunction’s face that showed flushed with embarrassed anger. “Don’t fuck with me, bitch! I know you know who we are. King Alpha even said he could hear you talking about us at one of your secret meetings.”

“He heard us talking about your group?” Masque asked. “When was that?”

“A couple of weeks ago. Don’t lie to me. King Alpha used his superhearing and overheard your little group talking about us, planning your conspiracy with the League of Ultimate Evil.”

“What conspiracy?” Masque asked. From her expression, she realized she’d stepped into a whole lot of crazy. “And why would we do anything with the League of Ultimate Evil? They’re our enemy. And oh yeah, they’re evil.”

“No they’re not.” Major Malfunction slammed his hand down on the table in front of him. “Everyone knows you’re all in each others’ pockets. You work together to try to push all of the other super groups out of the city. You’re all like gangsters. And you’re jealous of your authority, everyone knows it.”

“You’re crazy,” Masque said after a long moment. She looked around, trying to spot an escape route. “I’m gonna go.” She gestured with her thumb over her shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere, bitch,” Major Malfunction growled suddenly, leaping the table in front of him. “You’re a superhero and you decided to show your face. And now I’m going to beat the crap out of you and everyone here is going to see just how pathetic the League of Superheroes really is, especially when compared to some real superpowers.”

Vereint backed away, giving the guy room to face off with one of the premier superheroes of the world. He thought it might be amusing to see her hand the idiot his ass.

Major Malfunction swung his fist around and slammed it into Masque’s face. She didn’t even make a move to block him and certainly wasn’t moved by his effort.

Just eyeballing the guy, Vereint was sure Major Malfunction had only slightly stronger than normal strength, not enough to do any real damage to Masque.

She stood looking at the man for a long moment, then reached out and grabbed his wrist, twisting it smoothly back and to the side. He screamed like he was being killed. “I don’t really want to hurt you,” she said. “It’s obvious that you have some serious mental issues that you need to deal with.”

“You bitch! I’ll kill you!” he screamed, bringing his other arm around to try and hit her.

She blocked him with negligent strength. “I don’t think you’ll be doing anything of the sort.”

“What’s going on here?”

Vereint cringed a little. There was nothing like a little Captain Victorious to make him want to get the hell out of view.

Masque turned to face her colleague cum leader. “Oh, Vic, this guy was talking big about Darkstar. I thought it prudent to tell him that that wasn’t a good idea, especially considering what happened a few weeks ago. But instead of listening to me, he got all aggro and attacked me.”

Vereint was curious about what had happened a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t like he could ask them for the information. He made a mental note to find out later.

“That’s reasonable,” the Captain said. He ran disgusted eyes over Major Malfunction’s squirming, cursing form. “We don’t really need any serious trouble from a bunch of Darkstar’s little fans. And if he somehow managed to offend Darkstar himself…” He shook his head.

Vereint wondered if he should be offended or not. It sometimes just seemed as though a lot of people thought he was a few bricks short of a brick shit house. They all just assumed that since he was a supervillain he didn’t have any self-control and would spaz out over every little thing.

Major Malfunction suddenly twisted in Masque’s grip to face him. “Hey man, you help me and I’ll make sure you get an in with the Society!” he yelled.

When Captain Victorious and Masque both turned to face him, Vereint wished more than anything that the idiot had just kept his mouth shut. Disguising himself as himself only worked so long as the person looking at him didn’t know him.

He saw the Captain’s eyes focus on him, then widen in surprise. He held his hands out. “Look, dude, I’m not really here for any…”

“Darkstar,” Masque breathed in an unfortunately carrying voice.

There was a surprised murmur from the crowd and Vereint realized he wasn’t going to get out of this by pretending to be anything other than himself. “Hey, Captain Vic,” he said, grinning and waving a little. “You wanna know the worst thing about this whole situation? I didn’t even get a chance to buy some funnel cakes from the booth over there.”

Captain Victorious didn’t really look scared, just very, very nervous and aware. He held up his big hands, palm out. “Don’t hurt anyone, please. All these people here, they’re basically just a bunch of nerds in dress up. Most of them aren’t ever going to do anything more than this playing pretend they do here at the con. They don’t really mean any harm.”

Vereint ran his own eyes across the crowd, his gaze caught by the teenagers from before staring at him with their mouths agape. They looked shocked and horrified that he really was Darkstar and they had mouthed off to him earlier. There was a widening wet spot at the front of Morocco’s tight pants.

Vereint felt bad for the kid, so he thoughtfully didn’t focus too hard on him or his friends. “When did I get a reputation for being such a monster?” he asked. “Honestly, when have I ever done anything to warrant such fear?”

“You’ve been terrorizing this city for the past year,” Captain Victorious growled as though that were the perfect answer.

“I don’t think I’m that bad,” Vereint said, pressing one hand dramatically to his chest. “I’ve always thought that I was a very understanding and wonderful individual. I’ve always tried to be the best me that I could be.”

“That’s practically poetic,” Captain Victorious sneered.

Vereint wagged his finger at him. “Hey now, there’s no reason to be so rude. I’ve always been nothing but nice to you.”

He could tell just by looking that more than anything Captain Victorious wanted to beat his ass. But the Captain was just unsure enough about the outcome of the fight that he didn’t want to be the one to start things that didn’t really need to take place. Though it would feel pretty good to make the Captain cry, especially if it was in front of a crowd of people.

“If you’re not here to cause trouble, then why are you here?” Captain Victorious demanded.

Vereint shrugged. “This is a supervillain convention, isn’t it? And I like to think of myself as a pretty super member of the whole villain thing. Sure, I might not be the most well-known villain,” he smiled charmingly, “but I think I can make some shit happen if I want to.”

“What were you planning on doing here?” Captain Victorious asked suspiciously.

“Why do I get the impression that you don’t really trust my motives?” Vereint asked. “I thought it would be kind of cool to come to Gatcha-Con, so here I am. No nefarious plans or anything like that. Just another nerdy con attendee taking the chance to meet up with other like-minded individuals. Why do you always have to be so suspicious of my motives?”

“Because you’re a bad guy,” Captain Victorious growled. “You cause trouble and strife wherever you go.”

“That’s mostly not my fault,” Vereint excused. “Sometimes stuff just happens and I get caught up in the moment. For the most part, I live a pretty quiet life and try my hardest not to cause problems wherever I might go.”

“Tell me the truth, what are you doing here? What do you have planned for these poor people?”

Vereint looked around. “Sure, they’re kind of freaking me out with the googly eyes right now, but I don’t think these people are that poor. I mean, anyone that’s willing to spend fifty dollars for a three-inch tall plastic statue of yours truly can’t really be that short on cash, you know. And just like I said, I was hoping to maybe get some funnel cake.” He held up the plastic bag hanging around his wrist. “I’ve already gotten some Pocky, so I’m pretty much set in the snack department.”

He leaned against the edge of the table next to him. “I guess I can be pretty much done here just so it doesn’t cause a big problem for you. The real question here, though, is whether you’re just going to let me go, or if you want to fight me. Whatever your decision, I’ve got no problem beating the shit out of you if that’s what you really want.”

It was a pretty near thing. Captain Victorious obviously wanted to lunge forward and try to remove Vereint’s face with his fist. But Masque clasped a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to some sense of sanity.

“I think we’re just going to let you go today,” she said. “I personally wouldn’t mind beating the complete and utter shit out of you, but there’s way too many people here and we don’t want anyone to get hurt. But the next time we meet…”

“I will destroy you,” Captain Victorious threatened, his voice falling into a low growl.

“Ooh, I like the voice, it’s very dramatic. You’ve totally got me trembling in my boots, that’s for sure.” Vereint couldn’t help the smarmy smile that twisted his lips then. “Is that the same voice you use when you’ve got Masque and Lady Arcana in bed together? Though I hear they’re more into each other than into you. Is that really true? ‘Cause that’s fucking sexy if it is. Two smoking hot ladies getting it on; I would pay good money just to watch, not even participate.”

“You’re disgusting,” Masque snapped.

He gave her his most charming smile, watching the way she couldn’t seem to help how her lips wanted to smile back at him. “I don’t think it’s disgusting,” he said. “Do you really think it’s disgusting?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes focused on his through his mask. A rosy flush colored her cheeks and not even the small black mask over her eyes–with the white lenses that covered the eye holes–could hide the almost hypnotized look she was sporting. “Well, I guess it’s not that bad,” she finally said, her pink tongue flicking out to moisten her lips. She leaned unconsciously a bit closer in his direction. “You might have said it a little better, but I don’t think there’s any reason for anyone to ever be ashamed of their sexuality.”

“See, that’s why you’ve always been one of my favorite members of the League of Superheroes,” he purred.

She smiled back at him. “I don’t think you’re as bad as everyone’s been saying lately. Honestly, from the things people have said I would have thought you would be a real monster, but… you’re actually pretty charming, you know?”

“Am I?” he asked.

She nodded. “Uh huh. I think that’s one of the reasons why you’re so popular with the public. You’re always so nice to old people and children, and unless someone moves against you, I don’t think there’s ever been a story where you’ve hurt anyone without reason.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You’re very flattering.”

She shifted a little closer. “I don’t think it’s flattery to tell the truth,” she said. “What do you think about…”

Captain Victorious gripped her shoulder and jerked her back a few feet. “Masque! He’s charming you. Wake the hell up!” He shook her a couple of times, sending her head bobbing on her neck.

She blinked hard, then looked around, shrugging the Captain’s hands off her. “I’m all right now,” she said. She glared at Vereint, her little chin setting hard with determination. “Don’t try that again.”

He held his hands out. “Try what? I didn’t do anything.”

She growled at him, a low sound that rumbled up from her chest. “You know what you were doing. Don’t try it again, or I’ll cut you in half.”

He couldn’t help laughing a little. She was glaring at him with everything she had and it was more cute than terrifying. “I guess you caught me,” he said. “I don’t know what I could have done to offend you, but I promise to never do it again. Pinkie swear.”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

He gave her a charming smile. “God, but I love it when you’re dominant like that. You’ve already got the leather catsuit, all you need now is the whip and chains.”

Masque clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“Aw, your words are like candy. Have you ever thought about being a phone sex operator? I mean, you are getting pretty up there in years and you can’t be a superhero forever. Phone sex could be your retirement plan.”

“I am not fucking old!” she snarled.

“Temper, temper,” he said, wagging his finger at her. “You know, being unable to control your anger is a sign of senility.”

She snarled and it wasn’t nearly as sexy as he had thought it would be. In fact, the way her face contorted with rage and that vein bulged in her forehead pretty much nixed any idea he had had that she was hot when she was angry. “Shut the fuck up!” she screamed. “I am not fucking old or senile or a lesbian dominatrix or anything else you want to call me.! What I am is completely pissed off and if you don’t shut your hole I’m going to shut it for you.”

Vereint mock-winced. “Whoa, lady, I don’t think I want you anywhere near my hole.”

Earlier she had been the one to hold back Captain Victorious, but now their roles were reversed. “Calm down,” the Captain said, pulling her back from her lunge at Vereint. “He’s trying to provoke you. We really don’t want to get into a physical confrontation with him, not with this crowd of people.” He gestured at the mass of con attendees that had been attracted by the drama. Most of them had never been in the presence of real superheroes or villains before, not ones with any power anyway.

Vereint grinned at the Captain. “You afraid of the bad PR if I beat your ass in public?”

Captain Victorious sneered back. “I don’t know who you think you are, but we both know who you’re always going to be. You were a B-class superhero, and no matter how hard you push at being an A-class supervillain, you’re always going to be second-class. So why don’t you get the hell out of here before things get ugly?”

“Whoa man, is that how you always talk to the bad guys you deal with?” Vereint asked. “Your chatter doesn’t make me want to walk away without causing trouble. Instead, it makes me want to kick your ass and embarrass you in front of all these people here.”

“Is that really Darkstar?” someone in the crowd asked. “This isn’t just some publicity stunt?”

Vereint turned to the man that had spoken. He was probably pushing thirty and was about seventy pounds overweight, a fact that was most unpleasantly highlighted by his skintight vermillion bodysuit. His little black cape barely brushed the bottom of his ass, so it didn’t do much good at hiding the horror. Still, Vereint managed to give the guy a pleasant smile. “Hi, how you doin’ today, fella? My name’s Darkstar. And I want to play,” he said the last in a creepy sing-song voice.

The guy blanched under his black eye-mask and stumbled backward. “Holy shit, it’s really him!”

A stir went through the crowd and Vereint couldn’t help but to smile. The whole being instantly recognizable thing was still pretty much a thrill. It always just kind of gave him a happy whenever his name was spoken in that fearful yet reverently awed way. He just wasn’t cool enough to be blase to it.

“Wh-what are you going to do with us?” a black woman wearing a large and overly curled blond wig asked. She was at least six feet tall and was wearing a silver bodysuit with dark blue piping that was at least halfway unzipped down the front to reveal obviously enhanced breasts. Her heavily made up face wasn’t really pretty, might even have been considered unattractive in different circumstances, but was currently oddly fascinating. The persona she was putting across was just too interesting to be ignored.

Without really thinking about it, Vereint drifted across the floor until he was close enough to reach out and brush his fingers through her awful wig. It was just as hair sprayed and terrible as he had imagined it to be, but he had just needed to experience it for himself. “If you’re really lucky,” he purred, “I won’t do anything to you. If you’re unlucky… well, I guess then we’re going to party.”

“Whoa, I didn’t think Darkstar used awful lines like that in real life,” someone in the crowd whispered. Another voice laughed in response.

Vereint grit his teeth, his happy mood sinking a little. He hated to be criticized. But when you were in the meta business there was always someone with an opinion out there, and they had no problem expressing what they felt even when no one asked.

“I don’t think you quite grasp the seriousness of your situation,” he said loudly. “You may think that we somehow know each other and are thus best friends forever, but in all honesty I don’t give a fuck about any of you as much as I do about pigeons being Alka-Seltzer bombed, and I don’t give a fuck about them. So why don’t you can it with the witty commentary before I personally show you all why I was voted this year’s Greatest Supervillain in the Yucksies. Understand?”

There was a gentle murmur of assent from the crowd. Most of them probably weren’t as scared of him as they should be, but they seemed to be taking a careful approach to him, which still translated into them shutting up and doing what he said. So even if he wasn’t completely satisfied with the response he got, at least he wasn’t going to have to make an example of someone. He always hated having to do that, but he wasn’t going to let anyone walk all over him either. That way led to a loss of crowd control, not just here, but everywhere that people had heard about his total lameness.

Sometimes he could really see why he had sucked as a superhero. He had been so afraid of offending someone that he hadn’t done all the things he should have. He should have fought for respect and not let anyone take it away from him. He had let the rest of the League of Superheroes walk all over him, and because of that he had never become his own man.

But when he had decided to go supervillain, he simply had not given a fuck. His definition of a supervillain meant he got to do anything he wanted and use any means necessary to do it, including playing at being a monster, and sometimes having to really be one.

It wasn’t the greatest moment in his life, but he had made examples of people before. He didn’t really like using his powers like that, but if he couldn’t keep crowd control, then he should just throw his supervillain title away. Because then he wouldn’t just have been a B-class–possibly C-class–superhero, he would be a B-class supervillain too. And that would be just too lame for him to bear.

He rose up a few feet in the air. There was something about looming over people that made them more likely to do what he wanted. Plus he was easily visible to the rest of the crowd and no one would be dumb enough to just assume he was part of a publicity stunt.

“If you all remain calm and just stay the hell out of my way, I think we will get along perfectly fine. But if I hear you making snide remarks about what I am wearing, what I am saying, or anything else about me, I promise you that I will be anything but kind. At least have the intelligence to wait until I am gone before being an asshole, because that just shows you don’t really think I might boil one of you alive from the inside out. And I think we would all hate for anything like that to happen, right?” He smiled unpleasantly.

He could almost smell the fear in the room now. He probably shouldn’t have enjoyed it, but there was something so cool about being able to completely dominate a room. They would do anything he told them to, that was how afraid they were.

They belonged to him.

“Seriously, what are you going to do?” Captain Victorious demanded. “Are you really going to start a fight in here, with all these people?”

“I thought you guys had been painting me as a real monster at your League meetings? Don’t you really believe I’m so terrible that you have to get me off the streets at all costs? So you don’t want to face me yourselves, but you tell your newbie members to try and take me on? What kind of assholes are you really?”

“That is totally not the way it is!” Masque shouted, though the way she looked around at the crowd when she said it didn’t exactly engender confidence. “We have never advocated that anyone start a super battle with you. We make sure our members know just how dangerous you are, but that you don’t usually attempt to kill a bunch of people every time you make an appearance. We emphasize that most of the time, if they just pretend they don’t see you, you won’t make a big scene.”

Vereint thought about that, then didn’t know if he really liked the way he was being handled. “So what you’re saying is that the League of Superheroes doesn’t take me seriously? You all think that I’m some kind of joke or something? So I should go out there and do something to make you all take me seriously no matter what situation I’m in?” He had honestly never thought of the idea before, but now that he had he didn’t really want to change his situation, because it was pretty sweet.

What she had said was that he could be out and about and be recognized by the League of Superheroes, but unless he was causing havoc, they would basically pretend like they didn’t know who he was or what he was doing. And that was actually pretty cool. He had a good situation going for him, one that he didn’t really want to change.

Still there was nothing like spooking a world known superhero to make his day just a little bit shinier.

“If you guys should have let me go about my business, then why did you guys bug me today when I was just standing here? Couldn’t you have just pretended not to recognize me?” Vereint asked. “I wasn’t hurting anyone and none of these people were in the kind of danger that they’re in now. They would have been able to go about their lives without having to worry about me melting them into a pile of goo. Which is something they totally have to worry about now.”

“Whoa now, there’s no reason to get all crazy.” Captain Victorious held up his hands. “We both know there’s nothing of value for you here at the con, so you’ve basically got a bunch of hostages for no real reason. You’re not going to start a super battle so you can get away with a bunch of stuff, because there’s nothing here you really want. There’s no real reason to invite trouble when there’s no need for it. We should have just let you alone.”

“Which is just what I asked you: Why did you guys start it today?” Vereint asked.

“Look, it was kind of a mistake,” Captain Victorious said. He was still holding on to Masque’s arm just in case. “There was a lot of surprise involved with seeing you here. When you come to one of these things, you don’t really expect to see any really famous people. It’s mostly newcomers or people whose careers never quite picked up and they just want some exposure, you know? So seeing you here? Kind of a shock.”

“So you had to out me in front of a whole crowd of normals? Great, I’m real thankful for that. So now what am I supposed to do: terrorize the place, or sign autographs?” Vereint raked a hand through his hair. “Are you guys looking to start a super battle, because I was kind of hoping for a quiet day today. You know, stress free and everything. Kind of a day of pacifism to make up for the fact that I usually enjoy kicking way too much ass to be karmically healthy.”

Captain Victorious studied him for a long moment. “You’re really not here for any nefarious reasons?”

“Nefarious? Really?” Vereint rolled his eyes. “Allow me to reiterate myself once again: I was just here to enjoy the con. If you want me to turn all supervillain and do something to add to my rep, just let me know and I’ll be glad to do it.”

“No, no, that’s not what we want,” the Captain said hurriedly, waving his hand. “I don’t think any of us here are really prepared for an all out brawl with a bunch of civilians here.”

“Personally I think that I’m always ready for an all out brawl, it’s just not what I was planning on today. So if you want to be my personal change of plans, I have no problem with kicking your asses before I leave. Or you could be cool and I’ll just leave. This con is pretty much over for me anyway.” He waved a hand at the crowd. “I don’t think any of those people are going to forget who I am any time soon and I just don’t want to deal with the drama of a bunch of fanboys trying to get my autograph or the crazy ones that really believe they’re in the same league as me.”

He was getting so tired of having to repeat himself that he thought being able to bring the hurt on them would have made him feel better. “Look, do you guys want to fight, or should I just go?”

Captain Victorious looked around with an indecisive expression on his face. “We can’t have any problem here,” he said to Masque, who quickly nodded.

“Then I’m gone,” Vereint said, rising up into the air. “Maybe we’ll have more fun next time.”

He turned to where the terrified teens were still huddling, probably going over everything they’d said to him and all the stories about what he might do to them if he was mad enough. He pointed a commanding finger at them, trying to look as stern as possible. “Hey kids, stay in school. And just say no to drugs–the hard ones at least.”

They looked as though he’d just shot them in the face. It made him have to fight back a crazy giggle. “Laters!” he called, flying toward the open double doors and the freedom beyond.

He left behind a babble of shocked voices and pointing fingers as even those that hadn’t been in the merchant’s hall realized that he was the real Darkstar. It made him laugh a little to himself as he broke for the outside and was finally able to go to real speeds.

The con hadn’t quite been what he thought it was going to be, but it wasn’t all that bad either.

He hadn’t been bored at least.

Re: Con-Air [movie, action, American] John Cusack, & Nicolas Cage

I would just like to state for the record that the best thing about the movie “Con-Air” was Steve Buscemi.

There was just something so enthralling about his creepy serial killer cannibal guy character (he did eat people, didn’t he? He totally seemed like he did on the creep meter). I just couldn’t look away whenever he appeared onscreen.

So there’s like Nicolas Cage running around trying to help John Cusack’s cop-guy character and John Malkovich is the bad ass guy they’re trying to stop. There’s all of these convicts running around on a hijacked prison plane, then stuff about taking over an airport – it’s been a long time for me -  and there’s lots of explosions and car chases and some people end up dead.

“Con-Air” is just an action popcorn flick of no real importance to the world at large. All I can remember is that it was fun to watch and Nic Cage had longish hair and I think Monica Potter was in it as the pretty young wife.

But Steve Buscemi totally stuck out. And that’s something he’s always done for me.

“Fargo,” “The Big Lebowski,” “Reservoir Dogs,” “Charlotte’s Web,” “The Sopranos,” “Big Daddy,” “The Adventures of Pete and Pete,” “Monsters Inc,” the list goes on and on. And in every single one of the movies or television shows Steve Buscemi has appeared in, he has always done a most excellent job.

He is a real icon.

Which is why, whenever I think of “Con-Air,” it’s not John Cusack or Nicolas Cage I think of. It’s Steve Buscemi in that white jump suit sitting down with that little girl at the end, a scene more than a tad reminiscent of Frankenstein’s monster.

Filed under: Movies Tagged: Con-Air, movies, Steve Buscemi

Excerpt of “Daisy” from “Pomegranate 01″ [romance, light mm]

Title: Daisy

Author: Linnea Kingsley

Genre: romance, light mm

Summary: Duke Harry Landaugh is grateful to Cordelia VanPein for saving his life and vows to find her a good marriage match. His intended victim: Baron Denis Buckles, a rather foolish yet gentle young man.

 

Arriving at Lady Pennywhistle’s ball was something he could have done without. To be the focus of all those avid eyes and know they wanted to snatch away his title of “bachelor.” It was faintly terrifying, and he hated the idea of being hunted.

All the daughters and their mamas wanted to snag a Duke, especially one as rich as he happened to be. And to that end, he could see them circling him like wolves around a wounded antelope.

It was only a matter of time before one of them grew bold enough to leap at him and try to steal a bite.

Harry didn’t feel even remotely like a coward when he made a strategic beeline toward a familiar figure in a frock coat and top hat.

“Save me, Reggie!” he cried dramatically.

She looked at him out of skeptical blue eyes and he was once again struck by her porcelain doll beauty. She didn’t look like one of those bland baby-faced dolls, no. She had the sharply defined features of the much more expensive dolls, the one of a kind dolls that cost a small fortune and usually only belonged to the most discerning of collectors.

Sir Reginald Boot — never Bootsy, that was a moniker saved for her wastrel brother George — arched a finely drawn brow at him. “And what exactly am I to save you from?”

Harry leaned against the wall beside her and waved a hand around the ballroom. “All of them. Save me, Reggie, for they plan to see me miserably wed.”

She snorted. “I honestly do not see the issue you have with the state of matrimony. I have been married to my dear Felicia nigh on fifteen years and I will gladly admit that it has been the perfect union.”

“That’s because she’s your heart’s match. I, on the other hand, want nothing to do with this harpy’s brood. They would happily consume me in my sleep.” He sighed sadly. “My life truly has become a most difficult one.”

Reggie plucked a glass of punch from the tray of a passing server. She curled her dove gray gloved fingers around the delicate handle, holding the cup with a careless kind of grace. “Why do you indulge in this ridiculous behavior? We both know that none of these here can ever force you into any kind of arrangement.” She gave him a sharp look. “What is going on?”

Harry sighed and stood straight. “You know me far too well.”

“Unfortunately,” she drolled.

“As I was saying,” he continued,” I was hoping to beg your assistance in something very near and dear to my heart.”

“And what does Jensen have to do with this?” she asked.

“Oh, you do think that you’re funny.” He rolled his eyes. “No, dear friend, I am attempting a match of my own.”

“Truly?” She sipped her punch, her bright red lipstick leaving no trace on the clear glass rim. “And who might your victims be?”

“Denis Buckles and a delightful young lady of my acquaintance, Cordelia VanPein.” At Reggie’s ‘go on’ look, he shrugged. “She’s just in from the country and staying with her aunt and uncle. All are of gentle breeding, though the state of their finances are rather deplorably nonexistent.”

“And why exactly are you attempting to pair a penniless chit with Buckles?” she asked. “Do you honestly believe you’ll manage to pry him out of the clingy grasp of his dear mama?”

Harry shuddered. “I dread facing that dragon woman, but I honestly feel that Buckles and Cordelia would be the most perfect of matches.”

She turned to face him straight on. “Why is this so important to you?”

He could barely meet the directness of her gaze — very few could. She truly made a formidable figure, which probably explained how she had become the King’s Chief Inspector; no criminal dared face her when she gave them that piercing look.

Finally, he sighed in defeat. “Cordelia is a truly lovely girl and she saved my life when I found myself in a spot of trouble. Her parents have sent her to town to find a suitable match.”

“And you think that match is Buckles?” she asked disbelievingly.

Harry shrugged. “He very well could be. A handsome man of good social standing with a fairly personable nature. It makes him a wonderful catch.”

“But do his title and money make up for the serious lack of intellect?” she asked.

“I’m fairly certain that Cordelia has more than enough for the both of them to share.” Harry grinned cheekily. “Besides, even in the case of a future divorce, she still won’t be wanting for money.”

Reggie laughed. “Oh Harry, there’s our prince of practicality. I was really starting to worry about you.”

 

Filed under: Novellas, Sneak Peeks, Upcoming Projects Tagged: Daisy, Linnea Kingsley, novella, Pomegranate 01

Echo, by Sol Crafter [mm contemporary romance]

Title: Echo

Author: Sol Crafter

Genre: mm contemporary romance

Available from: Amazon or Smashwords .

Summary: Painfully shy, Cole Heath has always had a hard time connecting to people outside of his family. So when he meets Anderson Bester for the firsttime, he doesn’t really think anything of it. He certainly doesn’t imagine that he’ll end up falling in love.

Excerpt of “Echo” by Sol Crafter

After work he went home to his lonely apartment where he changed into jeans, a tee shirt, and comfortable sneakers. Then he heated himself up a bowl of canned chili in the microwave and settled in front of the TV.

Later he might go on the Internet and indulge in the only kind of human interaction that didn’t leave him sounding like an idiot.

There had been a low-level murmur of noise coming from the apartment next door, but it suddenly started getting very loud. They were playing music, but all he was getting was the pounding bass.

He sighed and turned up the volume on the TV, figuring he would ignore the noise. Except it was getting louder too, and louder, and louder.

When it reached the point that photos were vibrating on the walls, he figured enough was enough.

Mary Paterson was his neighbor’s name and she was a very understanding lady. She was always incredibly patient with his speech problems.

The man that answered the door to Cole’s knock was no one he knew. He could feel his courage curdling away. Especially when he realized just how good-looking the guy was–tall and lean with fair skin and even features. He could have been a model or something.

The opening of the door released a cacophony of sound and the sight of dozens of people dancing and milling around. It seemed Mary was having a party.

“Can I help you?” the brown haired guy asked, cocking his head.

“Can I help you?” Cole echoed. He really hated talking to new people. “Yeah, can you maybe turn down the bass? It’s vibrating through my wall.”

The man blinked. He was holding a sweating beer bottle in one hand and looked as though he’d just run his fingers through his hair. “Oh, yeah, okay. I’ll have it turned down.”

“I’ll have it turned down,” Cole echoed. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.”

“Dude, what’s up with repeating what I say?” the man asked.

Cole sighed, but felt like he had to answer. “Dude, what’s up with repeating what I say? Sorry about that, I have a speech condition called echolalia. I can’t help repeating the last thing a person says before I speak.”

“So it’s a kind of OCD?” the guy looked interested in the idea. “It’s like Echo from Greek mythology.”

“It’s like Echo from Greek mythology,” Cole said, nodding. “That’s actually where the name came from. Anyways, if you’ll just turn down the bass–I can’t really hear the music, so that’s not a problem–that would be much appreciated.”

“Okay.”

Cole nodded once at the guy, then turned to go back to his own place. He had to wipe sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans.

* * *

Watching the cute guy go, Anderson kind of wanted to call him back. But he had looked so uncomfortable standing there. It was obvious he suffered from major shyness.

But he’d really been very cute.

Anderson closed the door, then walked over to the stereo himself and lowered the bass. Then he went to find Mary.

She was in the kitchen pouring liquor into a punch bowl with some ruby red grapefruit juice, pineapple juice, and about a dozen freshly mashed strawberries.

“Why didn’t you tell me your neighbor was so cute?” he demanded. The strawberries were taunting him, so he snagged one from the punch with his fingers.

Mary slapped at his hand, but didn’t really try to stop him. “Are you talking about Cole?”

“If that’s his name, then yes,” Anderson agreed, sucking his fingers clean. “He’s the one that repeats what you say.”

“Yeah, Cole. He’s a real doll, but completely shy.” Mary crossed to the freezer for half a bag of crushed ice. “I would have invited him if I didn’t think he would totally freak out. He doesn’t do well around large groups of people.”

Anderson couldn’t help a feeling of regret. “He was incredibly cute. Too bad he’s so young.”

Mary snorted. “Please, he’s like twenty-seven.”

“Really? I thought he was like eighteen or nineteen.” Anderson really was shocked. The guy looked like a teenager, but was actually a year older than him. “He looked like a kid.”

Mary laughed. “Yeah, he fooled me too the first time I saw him. I nearly asked him if his parents were home.”

“Wow, twenty-seven,” Anderson mused. He’d mentally put the guy on the “Do Not Touch” list because he thought he was a kid. Now he wished he’d invited him to stay for Mary’s party. It would have given him a chance to flirt.

“Oh God, you’ve got that look on your face,” Mary groaned.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Anderson said virtuously.

“Yeah right. And I’m suddenly getting the feeling that you’re going to be hanging around my house a whole lot more. And you eat like a pig, by the way.” Mary shook her head and went to break out another set of plastic cups.

Anderson couldn’t help smiling as he watched her bustle around her small kitchen.

Mary had been unfortunately cursed with orangey-red hair and a fat ass from her mother. She had a sprinkling of freckles over her entire face, but had extremely lovely green eyes. She was the stereotypical buxom Scottish lass. She looked like she could whip up a mean haggis.

Her accent was pure California.

The first time he met her, Anderson was expecting a heavy burr. He got Buffy the Vampire Slayer instead. It had been one of the funniest moments of his life and pretty much sealed her fate as his best friend forever.

Whether she liked it or not.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she ordered. “It’s creepy. Here,” she pointed to the punch bowl, “take that out to the masses.”

He gave her a snappy salute before hurrying to obey. He could hear the natives getting restless as they realized the only thing left was light beer. He didn’t want to be murdered for not appeasing the gods of alcohol fast enough.

He knew practically everyone here, since he and Mary shared the same group of friends. Despite her rather boho off hours appearance, Mary Paterson was an up-and-coming corporate lawyer. Which is how they met.

Anderson had been repping Bester International and Mary had been assigned to handle the legal end of things. They’d just kind of clicked on first meeting and that was that.

BFFs.

It made him laugh.

Go pick up a copy from Amazon or Smashwords.

Filed under: Novellas, Self-Publishing Tagged: Echo, excerpt, novella

Hurrays, it’s a “Tag Party!” Writers, bloggers, sign up now!

What the heck am I talking about? I’m talking about a Tag Party! (Or “Par-tay!” for the hyper cool.)

On Monday, May 7th, 2012 a picture will go up with various characters in a bingo-like square. Entrants “tag” the numbered pictures with what fictional character they most think it looks like/reminds them of, making sure to list the source (like in Highlander!)

Those who would like to play either give their answer through Twitter, or in the comments on the entry page if they do not have a Twitter account. The hashtag for the game will be given out on Monday, so as not to ruin the fun (no premature hashtagging here!) Then the public at large gets to cast their votes, and on Friday, May 11th, 2012, the prizes will be given out to the peoples’ choices.

That’s where you come in.

I am currently looking for awesome prizes to award our fun-loving entrants. Mostly digital in nature so there’s no shipping involved, I’m looking for ebooks and people willing to supply them, no pirate booty please.

If you decide to contribute, your prizes will be listed on the entry page with a link to your blog or website, though this is a game open to EVERYONE, so maybe you’d like to create a post to link to that describes the kind of prize you’re offering, some things about you, and just a general outline of what your blog is all about. Please keep your post PG-13.

If your blog is straight up NSFW, but you still want to contribute a prize, we can work something out. I’m willing to make a post on my blog for you. Just let me know.

At the end of the game, the winners will be able to pick and choose what prize they want to receive. The number 1 winner obviously gets first choice

If you would like to join the party, please leave a comment here and I will email you with the deets.

Filed under: Tag Party Tagged: freebies, game, tag party

Why I Write

Why do I write? Because writing makes me happy and gives me something I desperately crave – an outlet for all of the people and worlds living in my head.

Writers aren’t exactly people…they’re a whole lot of people trying to be one person.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

To be honest, I don’t ever expect to become rich off of my writings. I don’t exactly see myself as being the next J.K. Rowling or Laurell K. Hamilton or Stephen King.

I just like to write.

I do hope to reach the point – soonish rather than later – where I will be able to pay off all of my debts and make a fairly comfortable living. I would like to be able to give the Kid a good education and a nice place to live. Most of all, I never want to worry about him going hungry again.

But even if I was living in a gutter somewhere, I would still write, because it is my passion and my joy.

Even if there was no one to read the words, I would still write them down. On a computer, in a notebook, in the dirt on the floor… the words would still flow out of me and always will.

That being said, I really do appreciate it when someone reads something I’ve written. Whenever I sell a book, I feel a jolt of pleasure at the idea that someone out there is meeting the people I created and traveling the world they live in. And I hope they experience the same richness of feeling that I did as I wrote every word and imagined every action or scene.

Feedback is always appreciated, but to just know that someone is reading something I’ve created… that’s enough.

~Peace, love, joy

Filed under: Journal, Real Life, What's up buttercup? Tagged: RL, writing