I.E. Castellano's Blog, page 11
December 9, 2013
Yuletide Magic
Before hearts entwined and battles fought, a little girl invoked the ancient magic of Yule.
A holiday themed short based in the magical world of the epic fantasy series, the World In-between.
Download a free copy at Kobo, Google Play and Smashwords.
Both Amazon and Barnes & Noble are charging 99 cents, for now. Hopefully, they'll "match the price" to free soon.
Coming soon, also free, to iTunes, Sony and Diesel Books.
Happy Holidays!
November 5, 2013
Immersed in Editing
Well beyond my deadline and well over
my anticipated word count, I finally finished the third book of my
epic fantasy series, the World In-between. Halloween night, I penned
the final words of Secrets of the Sages. Since then, I have been
immersed in editing.
“I am emptying the ocean with a
thimble,” Silvia says in this book.
Editing is all-consuming. Before a
copy of my manuscript sees a different computer screen, I edit. On
my desk, I keep paper and a pen ready for jotting down editing notes.
How did I spell certain words in other books of the series? Should
I capitalize shaman? What will be the spelling of Teresa’s
family’s last name? Et cetera, et cetera.
Manuscripts are funny things. They
evolve with each reading. When I write, I will have what I call
alpha reads. This is when I will read a few rawly written pages to a
few close testers (my family). They give me feedback. I learn what
works, what needs improvement and what sounded better in my head than
on the page. I scribble notes in the little white areas between the
lines. Lately, I began using a different color pen for notes.
My notes make my typed manuscript a
much better read than my handwritten one. Yet, I still change more
than what my notes indicate. The first line of my handwritten
Secrets of the Sages reads: “Uncle Berty, Mommy wants to talk to
you,” Hope said, holding out the receiver of the old white and
brass rotary phone. The first line of Secrets of the Sages is (thus
far): Magic infiltrated Berty’s life, yet it baffled him.
Who knows what subsequent read-throughs
will bring? What I do know is that chapters will form. They will
get fun little titles. Missing words will be found. Typos will be
corrected (hopefully). I will research spelling and grammar
underlined within the document. My hands will hurt and my eyes will
know fatigue well.
Culminating at roughly 90,000 words,
Secrets of the Sages smushes the magical and the non-magical worlds
between which Berty lives. I have yet to set a release date. The
cover is in production. Secrets, left to be forgotten, can destroy
the Land of Sages and crumble the Empire.
my anticipated word count, I finally finished the third book of my
epic fantasy series, the World In-between. Halloween night, I penned
the final words of Secrets of the Sages. Since then, I have been
immersed in editing.
“I am emptying the ocean with a
thimble,” Silvia says in this book.
Editing is all-consuming. Before a
copy of my manuscript sees a different computer screen, I edit. On
my desk, I keep paper and a pen ready for jotting down editing notes.
How did I spell certain words in other books of the series? Should
I capitalize shaman? What will be the spelling of Teresa’s
family’s last name? Et cetera, et cetera.
Manuscripts are funny things. They
evolve with each reading. When I write, I will have what I call
alpha reads. This is when I will read a few rawly written pages to a
few close testers (my family). They give me feedback. I learn what
works, what needs improvement and what sounded better in my head than
on the page. I scribble notes in the little white areas between the
lines. Lately, I began using a different color pen for notes.
My notes make my typed manuscript a
much better read than my handwritten one. Yet, I still change more
than what my notes indicate. The first line of my handwritten
Secrets of the Sages reads: “Uncle Berty, Mommy wants to talk to
you,” Hope said, holding out the receiver of the old white and
brass rotary phone. The first line of Secrets of the Sages is (thus
far): Magic infiltrated Berty’s life, yet it baffled him.
Who knows what subsequent read-throughs
will bring? What I do know is that chapters will form. They will
get fun little titles. Missing words will be found. Typos will be
corrected (hopefully). I will research spelling and grammar
underlined within the document. My hands will hurt and my eyes will
know fatigue well.
Culminating at roughly 90,000 words,
Secrets of the Sages smushes the magical and the non-magical worlds
between which Berty lives. I have yet to set a release date. The
cover is in production. Secrets, left to be forgotten, can destroy
the Land of Sages and crumble the Empire.
October 22, 2013
Poetry Wednesday 23 Oct 13
Toxic Vision
by Patrick Loafman
Clouds, steel gray as the sides of salmon, brushed themselves
against the swollen bellies of mountains, and the full moon fell
into the river and sizzled.
Then I was hiking somewhere upriver to where bearded old men
become spruce trees, until everything became too vivid
and I collapsed, falling to the skin of the earth, my head rattling
the bells of chocolate lilies, their tongues oozing nectar into my ear.
Beneath the bitter umbrellas of oxalis, I could see stardust and red mites.
Moss braided itself into a green rope, and I climbed further down this toxic
vision, turning glistening pages of liverworts, shattered wings of cicadas,
searching the undersides of the smallest leaves for a window or a mirror.
I kept descending down this green rope into smaller and smaller forests,
into the gray tangle of mycelia. Maybe, I imagined, this is death’s journey,
to enter the earth’s pores like water.
Patrick Loafman is a author, wildlife biologist and artist. This poem is adapted from a paragraph from his new novel Somewhere Upriver. Read more about his novel, see his gourd art and watch videos on him playing gourd musical instruments at http://ploafman.wix.com/patrickloafman
by Patrick Loafman
Clouds, steel gray as the sides of salmon, brushed themselves
against the swollen bellies of mountains, and the full moon fell
into the river and sizzled.
Then I was hiking somewhere upriver to where bearded old men
become spruce trees, until everything became too vivid
and I collapsed, falling to the skin of the earth, my head rattling
the bells of chocolate lilies, their tongues oozing nectar into my ear.
Beneath the bitter umbrellas of oxalis, I could see stardust and red mites.
Moss braided itself into a green rope, and I climbed further down this toxic
vision, turning glistening pages of liverworts, shattered wings of cicadas,
searching the undersides of the smallest leaves for a window or a mirror.
I kept descending down this green rope into smaller and smaller forests,
into the gray tangle of mycelia. Maybe, I imagined, this is death’s journey,
to enter the earth’s pores like water.
Patrick Loafman is a author, wildlife biologist and artist. This poem is adapted from a paragraph from his new novel Somewhere Upriver. Read more about his novel, see his gourd art and watch videos on him playing gourd musical instruments at http://ploafman.wix.com/patrickloafman
October 21, 2013
A Letter Home
Characterization exercise for my work-in-progress space opera, Where Pirates Go to Die.
Mom,
I don't know if you'll ever read this. Had to write anyway. Seems like something a good son should do.
I'm sure you're wondering how good of a son I actually am. I know I disappointed you and Dad, and for that I am terribly sorry.
You never got to hear my side of the story. The one where I claim my innocence. Flyers ripped me from the interplanetary transport. Without warning was the way they wanted it.
They wouldn't let me correspond while I was incarcerated. Not that being on this ship is any less of a prison. But, at least I have some sort of future. It's not the future you and dad wanted for me. I'll never be able to go back to that life.
There are a lot of things I will never be able to do again. I have accepted that fact. That doesn't mean that I don't miss you or my work, however trivial it seems now.
If this reaches you, I hope it reaches you well. Destiny is taking me another way. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but perhaps this is what I need to do.
All my love,
Lorne
Mom,
I don't know if you'll ever read this. Had to write anyway. Seems like something a good son should do.
I'm sure you're wondering how good of a son I actually am. I know I disappointed you and Dad, and for that I am terribly sorry.
You never got to hear my side of the story. The one where I claim my innocence. Flyers ripped me from the interplanetary transport. Without warning was the way they wanted it.
They wouldn't let me correspond while I was incarcerated. Not that being on this ship is any less of a prison. But, at least I have some sort of future. It's not the future you and dad wanted for me. I'll never be able to go back to that life.
There are a lot of things I will never be able to do again. I have accepted that fact. That doesn't mean that I don't miss you or my work, however trivial it seems now.
If this reaches you, I hope it reaches you well. Destiny is taking me another way. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but perhaps this is what I need to do.
All my love,
Lorne
August 4, 2013
A Writer’s Exercise: Foggy Inspiration
Fog on a summer’s night mesmerizes.
From the time it rolls in until the sun burns it off, I imagine all
sorts of possibilities.
People always ask from where I get my
inspiration. The answer is simple. Most of the time, I look out my
window.
I watch the fog hug the streetlamp,
then reach to kiss the window’s screen. Eventually it fills the
void between the buildings, shrouding the brick and clapboard in a
hushed whisper.
The sky begins to lighten. A blue-gray
glow settles into the mountains. Retreating into the valley, the fog
leaves a shiny roof that reflects the light of the newly liberated
streetlamp.
Headlights pierce through the dense air
before plunging into the valley. They emerge with a heightened
Doppler effect, which barges through my window.
A still breeze rocks the opened blinds
gently. Spreading a chill, it mocks summer. I pull my covers over
my head.
In my writing, I often use what lurks
outside my window. I made a mist only Declan could see. My heroes
wade through an unfamiliar fog laden valley that hides fears just
beyond their view.
The elements creep into my books to set a mood or
to create obstacles. What is real can be fantastical with only a
stroke of a pen.
June 24, 2013
To Type or Not to Type
Regular readers of this blog know that
I hand write all my manuscripts before I type them. Typing, for me,
is my first edit. Novels have a lot of words that need to be typed.
So far, I have published just over a quarter of a million words.
After typing the first 30,000 words of Secrets of the Sages, I
decided to give up typing novels to try something new.
For about the past week, I have been
using speech recognition software. I got Dragon Naturally Speaking
12. The regular retails for $99 while the premium version is $199.
My consensus, thus far, is good.
I use it with my own headset. Not a
pricey bit of plastic, but it does exactly what I need it to do.
Since my vintage version of Word has gone wonky, I am now using Open
Office. After going through the tutorial and reading an excerpt of a
novel by Lewis Carroll, I began to dictate my hand-written
manuscript.
My book was already started in
manuscript format—double spaced and first line indent at a half
inch. All I needed to do was read. My words magically appeared on
the page, well sort of. I had to teach it my character’s names and
places that I had already entered into Open Office’s spell check
dictionary.
Every so often, it mistranslates. I
read a few lines, then correct. Correcting is easy. The program is
instinctive to use. I do have to remember to say my punctuation and
say “cap” before some of my character’s names. But that is
what I get for naming characters commonly used words, such as hope.
I have been racing through my
manuscript. Typing would have taken much longer. Another bonus with
this software is that it spells things correctly for you. I love
that feature. It saves me from doing extra work.
If the dog barks or a loud truck passes
by, even with a noise canceling microphone it messes up. Once in
awhile, what I have written does not always flow from my mouth.
After having a good laugh, I correct the mistakes. I find myself
only having to type in my ancient Fairy language and in what I call
the ancient tongue in my fantasy series. My main beef with the
program is that it uses straight quotes instead of curly ones. I
can’t seem to get it to use the latter. It is something that I
will have to fix in the next round of editing.
The software learns the more you use
it. It tries to figure out which word you meant by using context.
All in all, I am very happy with it. I would recommend Dragon
Naturally Speaking software to anyone who wants to make life a little
easier.
I hand write all my manuscripts before I type them. Typing, for me,
is my first edit. Novels have a lot of words that need to be typed.
So far, I have published just over a quarter of a million words.
After typing the first 30,000 words of Secrets of the Sages, I
decided to give up typing novels to try something new.
For about the past week, I have been
using speech recognition software. I got Dragon Naturally Speaking
12. The regular retails for $99 while the premium version is $199.
My consensus, thus far, is good.
I use it with my own headset. Not a
pricey bit of plastic, but it does exactly what I need it to do.
Since my vintage version of Word has gone wonky, I am now using Open
Office. After going through the tutorial and reading an excerpt of a
novel by Lewis Carroll, I began to dictate my hand-written
manuscript.
My book was already started in
manuscript format—double spaced and first line indent at a half
inch. All I needed to do was read. My words magically appeared on
the page, well sort of. I had to teach it my character’s names and
places that I had already entered into Open Office’s spell check
dictionary.
Every so often, it mistranslates. I
read a few lines, then correct. Correcting is easy. The program is
instinctive to use. I do have to remember to say my punctuation and
say “cap” before some of my character’s names. But that is
what I get for naming characters commonly used words, such as hope.
I have been racing through my
manuscript. Typing would have taken much longer. Another bonus with
this software is that it spells things correctly for you. I love
that feature. It saves me from doing extra work.
If the dog barks or a loud truck passes
by, even with a noise canceling microphone it messes up. Once in
awhile, what I have written does not always flow from my mouth.
After having a good laugh, I correct the mistakes. I find myself
only having to type in my ancient Fairy language and in what I call
the ancient tongue in my fantasy series. My main beef with the
program is that it uses straight quotes instead of curly ones. I
can’t seem to get it to use the latter. It is something that I
will have to fix in the next round of editing.
The software learns the more you use
it. It tries to figure out which word you meant by using context.
All in all, I am very happy with it. I would recommend Dragon
Naturally Speaking software to anyone who wants to make life a little
easier.
June 10, 2013
A Birthday Celebration
Tricentennial is a year old this month.
To celebrate, I am offering the ebook for 99¢ throughout the month of June and into July.
Tricentennial’s patriotic
nature is great for Independence Day reading.
Twenty years into the New Era, Xavier Kelton lives in a carefree world until his father uncovers a problem in commonly used nanotechnology. When his world crumbles, Xavier tries to keep his family together inadvertently starting another American Revolution.
Tricentennial
can be found at Amazon, Apple iTunes, Kobo, Smashwords, Sony, and
Barnes & Noble.
May 28, 2013
Writing Workshop—Getting into Character
Character Building Exercise: A monologue of one of the main characters in my upcoming space opera, Where Pirates go to Die.
Naria: Captain of the Tigerlily
The rumors are true. I have no man to complete me, nor a child to fulfill me. That is probably why I turned to pirating. If you believe that, I also have a moonshare to sell you. No one is going to tell me what kind of life a woman is supposed to lead. I bought the Tigerlily. I restored her and enhanced her. I also handpicked her crew—the best of the best at what they do.
You think I care what anyone thinks about how I live my life? I am the Captain of this ship. My ship, my rules. Don’t like them? There’s the airlock.
My ship is my pride and joy. Yes, it’s old, but she’s modified. What is so special about the Tigerlily? First, it has a hematite alloy bonded to the titanium hull. Gives her that pretty black sheen. Second, it can maneuver out of the Flyers’ laser snare. How? Like I’m going to tell you. Her secrets are my secrets. I’ll take them to my grave.
Why did I become a pirate? Well, it wasn’t because I woke up one day and realized how crappy my life was. I relish in the thrill of the heist. There is a certain satisfaction when your laser hits just the right spot to drop a man. Or woman. Though I do not rely solely on laser weaponry. I have a soft spot for the archaic weapons. Gripping the handle of a sharp piece of cold metal is an art form. When it rubs against warm flesh, veins shake nervously.
You don’t approve? My methods are very effective. Oh, you think I should have a civilized hobby. Perhaps gem setting? I do love the feel of jewels dripping from my fingertips. Maybe you meant something more mundane like robot coding. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it doesn’t earn anyone an asteroid load of lons.
Lons rule the Galaxy. The more lons the better. Sure, a sextillion of zeros in your bank account won’t keep you warm in the vacuum of space, but it keeps the engines running.
I know that judgmental look. You want to judge me? You can do it with a laser thrust up your final frontier.
Naria: Captain of the Tigerlily
The rumors are true. I have no man to complete me, nor a child to fulfill me. That is probably why I turned to pirating. If you believe that, I also have a moonshare to sell you. No one is going to tell me what kind of life a woman is supposed to lead. I bought the Tigerlily. I restored her and enhanced her. I also handpicked her crew—the best of the best at what they do.
You think I care what anyone thinks about how I live my life? I am the Captain of this ship. My ship, my rules. Don’t like them? There’s the airlock.
My ship is my pride and joy. Yes, it’s old, but she’s modified. What is so special about the Tigerlily? First, it has a hematite alloy bonded to the titanium hull. Gives her that pretty black sheen. Second, it can maneuver out of the Flyers’ laser snare. How? Like I’m going to tell you. Her secrets are my secrets. I’ll take them to my grave.
Why did I become a pirate? Well, it wasn’t because I woke up one day and realized how crappy my life was. I relish in the thrill of the heist. There is a certain satisfaction when your laser hits just the right spot to drop a man. Or woman. Though I do not rely solely on laser weaponry. I have a soft spot for the archaic weapons. Gripping the handle of a sharp piece of cold metal is an art form. When it rubs against warm flesh, veins shake nervously.
You don’t approve? My methods are very effective. Oh, you think I should have a civilized hobby. Perhaps gem setting? I do love the feel of jewels dripping from my fingertips. Maybe you meant something more mundane like robot coding. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it doesn’t earn anyone an asteroid load of lons.
Lons rule the Galaxy. The more lons the better. Sure, a sextillion of zeros in your bank account won’t keep you warm in the vacuum of space, but it keeps the engines running.
I know that judgmental look. You want to judge me? You can do it with a laser thrust up your final frontier.
May 17, 2013
Peeking Through the Portal
The World In-between
brought us from the modern mundane world through the portal to the magical Land of Sages. There, we discovered the quaint Sages’ Grove with the Empire Tree at its center. We journeyed to the magic hating walled city of Calledin. Then, we ventured into the dark Dragonlands.
Bow of the Moon showed us glimpses of the Elf stronghold, Irmingard with its moat full of magic and blinding white ramparts. We raced to colorful Fairyland, which straddles the border of the Land of Sages and the Dragonlands. Beyond both lands, we traversed the mysterious God Mountain. Finally, we traveled further than the known world and lived to tell the tale.
Secrets of the Sages will take us to the hot, barren grasslands of the Outlands where the Ghost Tribe finds you. We are summoned to the underground city of Grunnan—the last Dwarf state on either side of the portal.
From Secrets of the Sages:
Rounding a bend, they entered a large room full of multiple tracks. On the rough walls hung torches whose flickering light illuminated thick timber supports. They approached one of the half dozen mine carts.
As Colvin opened the cart door, Berty glimpsed at the hammer and pickaxe crossed in front of a keystone that was embossed on the metal. Inside were three benches. Two on either end, where occupants would face each other, and one in the middle on which a person could sit either way. The Dwarf had Edwin and Declan sit on the rear bench, while Berty sat on the middle bench. Closing the door, Colvin sat next to Berty.
With a push of a lever, the cart began to move. The last time Berty traveled in a mine cart, his advisor took him to the Empire Vaults.
Before leaving the large room, the tracks converged. They entered a tunnel, which held two tracks. The wooden supports and torches started to whiz by as the cart picked up speed. When the torches ended, cool air rustling through his hair told Berty that they moved much faster than when he visited the vault.
Every so often, he could feel the cart lean as it rounded bends. He was not sure how far they had been traveling, but his legs told him that he had been sitting in the cart for awhile. Eventually, his eyes detected light somewhere up ahead. The cramps in his legs relaxed hoping that they had reached their destination.
The cart slowed slightly. Torchlight illuminated levers between the tracks. Reaching, Colvin moved a couple. When the tunnel widened, the cart rode on the Dwarf’s chosen track. Their speed decreased further, making the rough rock walls less blurry.
The tunnel opened into a gigantic cave. Rushing water echoed in the cavern. The track wove through stalagmites spiking from the ground and columns formed by the meeting of stalactites and stalagmites. Berty’s eyes detected a soft light, but he could not find the source.
A forest of cave formations gave way to an imposing expansive clearing. In the distance, Berty spied an underground El Dorado. Rays of sunlight spilled into a crack in the earth above. Mesoamerican style pyramids glittered with a golden hue. Crossing the clearing quickly, the cart zipped towards the golden city.
Some tracks led to the golden steps that cascaded down the side of the first pyramid. Their track took them inside a golden tunnel that cut through the pyramid.
“Welcome to Grunnan,” said Colvin. Pulling a lever, they switched tracks. “This takes us straight to the Prince.”
“Is Grunnan made entirely of gold?” asked Declan.
The Dwarf smiled under his fiery beard. “All the stone is covered with thin sheets of a gold alloy. It is a secret blend of metals that helps keep our city safe.”
“Gold allows for magic to travel easily,” said Declan.
“When need be,” Colvin responded. “The gold also is easier on the eyes underground.”
The mine cart stopped inside a golden room. Dwarves wearing brownish-gold armor heavily guarded the room and its many exits.
Opening the door, Colvin jumped out. “Mind your head, Lieutenant. Dwarf construction does not take into account the height of Elves.”
Berty carefully exited the cart. While waiting for the others, he realized that his head was very close to the gold ceiling. Declan glanced upwards at the ceiling that was also only a few inches from the top of his head. Getting out of the cart, Edwin had to hunch to stand and walk.
All three of them ducked as they followed Colvin into a claustrophobia-inducing staircase. The golden tunnel that encased the stairs looked to go on forever.
To distract himself from feeling like the gold walls were going to close in on him, Berty said to Colvin, “This area is heavily guarded, but I did not see any guards as we approached the city.”
“The Royal Battalion protects only the Palace and the Royal Family,” Colvin said.
“Who protects Grunnan?” asked Berty.
“The city does not have an official guard. If need be, we Dwarves will head into battle. However, Grunnan is equipped to protect itself,” Colvin explained. “The Dwarves who built this place were masters of their trade. Any Dwarf who learns their secrets and knowledge are known as a Master tradesmen in his field.” He glanced at the three men following him. “Mind your heads,” he told them.
Bending to avoid hitting his head, Berty stepped out of the staircase. A grandiose room with plenty of room for their heads greeted them. Gold columns supported a gold vaulted ceiling. Shining shallow bowls holding fire dotted the golden floor. Members of the Royal Battalion stood guard throughout the room.
They approached many golden steps that led to a golden throne encrusted with large jewels.
“My Lord, welcome to the Royal Palace of Grunnan,” said Goscislaw’s low growl. The Dwarf Prince hurried down the many steps to greet his guests. “I am glad that you were able to come on such short notice. Please, come with me.”
Secrets of the Sages is the third book in the World In-between epic fantasy series. Look for it this year.
Bow of the Moon showed us glimpses of the Elf stronghold, Irmingard with its moat full of magic and blinding white ramparts. We raced to colorful Fairyland, which straddles the border of the Land of Sages and the Dragonlands. Beyond both lands, we traversed the mysterious God Mountain. Finally, we traveled further than the known world and lived to tell the tale.
Secrets of the Sages will take us to the hot, barren grasslands of the Outlands where the Ghost Tribe finds you. We are summoned to the underground city of Grunnan—the last Dwarf state on either side of the portal.
From Secrets of the Sages:
Rounding a bend, they entered a large room full of multiple tracks. On the rough walls hung torches whose flickering light illuminated thick timber supports. They approached one of the half dozen mine carts.
As Colvin opened the cart door, Berty glimpsed at the hammer and pickaxe crossed in front of a keystone that was embossed on the metal. Inside were three benches. Two on either end, where occupants would face each other, and one in the middle on which a person could sit either way. The Dwarf had Edwin and Declan sit on the rear bench, while Berty sat on the middle bench. Closing the door, Colvin sat next to Berty.
With a push of a lever, the cart began to move. The last time Berty traveled in a mine cart, his advisor took him to the Empire Vaults.
Before leaving the large room, the tracks converged. They entered a tunnel, which held two tracks. The wooden supports and torches started to whiz by as the cart picked up speed. When the torches ended, cool air rustling through his hair told Berty that they moved much faster than when he visited the vault.
Every so often, he could feel the cart lean as it rounded bends. He was not sure how far they had been traveling, but his legs told him that he had been sitting in the cart for awhile. Eventually, his eyes detected light somewhere up ahead. The cramps in his legs relaxed hoping that they had reached their destination.
The cart slowed slightly. Torchlight illuminated levers between the tracks. Reaching, Colvin moved a couple. When the tunnel widened, the cart rode on the Dwarf’s chosen track. Their speed decreased further, making the rough rock walls less blurry.
The tunnel opened into a gigantic cave. Rushing water echoed in the cavern. The track wove through stalagmites spiking from the ground and columns formed by the meeting of stalactites and stalagmites. Berty’s eyes detected a soft light, but he could not find the source.
A forest of cave formations gave way to an imposing expansive clearing. In the distance, Berty spied an underground El Dorado. Rays of sunlight spilled into a crack in the earth above. Mesoamerican style pyramids glittered with a golden hue. Crossing the clearing quickly, the cart zipped towards the golden city.
Some tracks led to the golden steps that cascaded down the side of the first pyramid. Their track took them inside a golden tunnel that cut through the pyramid.
“Welcome to Grunnan,” said Colvin. Pulling a lever, they switched tracks. “This takes us straight to the Prince.”
“Is Grunnan made entirely of gold?” asked Declan.
The Dwarf smiled under his fiery beard. “All the stone is covered with thin sheets of a gold alloy. It is a secret blend of metals that helps keep our city safe.”
“Gold allows for magic to travel easily,” said Declan.
“When need be,” Colvin responded. “The gold also is easier on the eyes underground.”
The mine cart stopped inside a golden room. Dwarves wearing brownish-gold armor heavily guarded the room and its many exits.
Opening the door, Colvin jumped out. “Mind your head, Lieutenant. Dwarf construction does not take into account the height of Elves.”
Berty carefully exited the cart. While waiting for the others, he realized that his head was very close to the gold ceiling. Declan glanced upwards at the ceiling that was also only a few inches from the top of his head. Getting out of the cart, Edwin had to hunch to stand and walk.
All three of them ducked as they followed Colvin into a claustrophobia-inducing staircase. The golden tunnel that encased the stairs looked to go on forever.
To distract himself from feeling like the gold walls were going to close in on him, Berty said to Colvin, “This area is heavily guarded, but I did not see any guards as we approached the city.”
“The Royal Battalion protects only the Palace and the Royal Family,” Colvin said.
“Who protects Grunnan?” asked Berty.
“The city does not have an official guard. If need be, we Dwarves will head into battle. However, Grunnan is equipped to protect itself,” Colvin explained. “The Dwarves who built this place were masters of their trade. Any Dwarf who learns their secrets and knowledge are known as a Master tradesmen in his field.” He glanced at the three men following him. “Mind your heads,” he told them.
Bending to avoid hitting his head, Berty stepped out of the staircase. A grandiose room with plenty of room for their heads greeted them. Gold columns supported a gold vaulted ceiling. Shining shallow bowls holding fire dotted the golden floor. Members of the Royal Battalion stood guard throughout the room.
They approached many golden steps that led to a golden throne encrusted with large jewels.
“My Lord, welcome to the Royal Palace of Grunnan,” said Goscislaw’s low growl. The Dwarf Prince hurried down the many steps to greet his guests. “I am glad that you were able to come on such short notice. Please, come with me.”
Secrets of the Sages is the third book in the World In-between epic fantasy series. Look for it this year.
May 14, 2013
Poetry Wednesday 15 May 13
INTO ABYSS
At which point does low end,
Where does abyss begin?
How deep is the void in the fowl's eyes,
That prey on the darkness so quiet.
A winter season so withering, speechless its morning, fear in its quake.
I wonder is this the paradise Hell speaks of,
No heart for love, no mind for good.
Where selflessness is the charity, donation for disaster,
Every blood drop, from the tip of the knife is hate's revenge on love.
Schizophrenic peace, must be wars sanity,
Deprived soul, a wind in a vessel quilt together.
The scream to be let go, but trapped till death decays the bond that holds.
Pleasure the inner covet, the flesh weak, and quick to envy.
So it embarks on a journey into ego,
Unknowingly it will reach low.
Unsatisfied by the taste, goes on to find the ingredient to enhance the aromatic artefact.
Only to find the journey is to a place at the end of low,
And the beginning of abyss where this lonely fortress holds.
By David Worlanyo
Find David on Facebook.
At which point does low end,
Where does abyss begin?
How deep is the void in the fowl's eyes,
That prey on the darkness so quiet.
A winter season so withering, speechless its morning, fear in its quake.
I wonder is this the paradise Hell speaks of,
No heart for love, no mind for good.
Where selflessness is the charity, donation for disaster,
Every blood drop, from the tip of the knife is hate's revenge on love.
Schizophrenic peace, must be wars sanity,
Deprived soul, a wind in a vessel quilt together.
The scream to be let go, but trapped till death decays the bond that holds.
Pleasure the inner covet, the flesh weak, and quick to envy.
So it embarks on a journey into ego,
Unknowingly it will reach low.
Unsatisfied by the taste, goes on to find the ingredient to enhance the aromatic artefact.
Only to find the journey is to a place at the end of low,
And the beginning of abyss where this lonely fortress holds.
By David Worlanyo
Find David on Facebook.
