Sybrina Durant's Blog, page 263

Journey To Osm – The Blue Unicorn’s Tale Reader Review by Victoria M.

  Journey To Osm – The Blue Unicorn’s Tale
 Reader Review by Victoria Mariposa

Journey to Osm: The Blue Unicorn’s Tale by Sybrina Durant is a magical fantasy story that is well written. The plot of the story begins when Miral gives birth to a unicorn with neither metal nor magic. Not only that, the baby unicorn is small and weak. This is after Alumna, the oracle, had received a vision that the baby unicorn would grow to be strong. What then, given his current stature, was he going to do if confronted with the worst Magh army?

I loved how the author built her characters and scenes gradually, pulling me in with each page. Also, the story is quite thrilling. It kept me at the edge of my seat the whole time. I can definitely see this being turned into a movie. That you Sybrina Durant for such a great read!

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Unicorn Book Feature – Lore of the Unicorn by Odell Shepard

Sybrina’s Unicorn Book Pick



Unicorns!  How we love them. . .Luckily for all of us unicorn lovers there are hundreds of unicorn books available for all age groups.  I have gathered information about as many as I can find and have placed them here for you in one convenient spot on my blog.  Today’s Unicorn Book Feature is













Lore of the Unicorn

 By Odell Shepard






ON the table before me there lies a long straight wand of ivory. Cut to the length of a walking-stick, it is somewhat more than two inches in diameter at the top and it tapers evenly to a blunt point. Smooth-backed ridges, not more than a quarter of an inch in height, spiral round it counter-clockwise, making about two turns and a half between one end and the other. As a whole, it is a twisted spear. One can fancy that it has been taken in powerful hands and wrung, as one wrings a wet cloth. Thomas Fuller, having seen another such ivory wand as this, said excellently that to his dim eyes and at some distance it seemed “like a taper of wreathed waxe”. This walking-stick has been fitted at the upper end with a gilded silver cap which bears the arms of a certain noble house and a motto in Welsh. Four inches below the cap a hole has been bored through the stick—one would say, at first, to receive the cord to which some gentleman of the grand old days attached the silken tassel that adorned his cane. I scarcely think, however, that this particular stick ever tapped its way along Birdcage Walk or through the gardens of Versailles, partly because there are no signs of wear on its point and partly because it weighs something like three pounds. More probably, the cord that went through this hole was used not to carry a tassel but to hang the stick against the wall in some great house of three or four centuries ago. And yet I do not doubt that some of the former owners of this wand carried it about with them, but when they did so they carried it neither for comfort nor display; rather, it was their companion on dark nights and in perilous places, and they held it near their hearts, handling it tenderly, as they would a treasure. For indeed it was exactly that. It preserved a man from the arrow that flieth by day and the pestilence that walketh in darkness, from the craft of the poisoner, from epilepsy, and from several less dignified ills of the flesh not to be named in so distinguished a connection. In short, it was an amulet, a talisman, a weapon, and a medicine-chest all in one. Small wonder that such a wand as this, in the days when such things were appreciated, sold for twenty times its weight in gold, and that one alone, as Thomas Dekker said, was “worth a city”. Small wonder that perfect sticks like this were to be seen only in the treasure-chambers of popes and emperors and kings, or, when some opulent church like St. Mark’s of Venice did manage to acquire one, that it should be shown to the public only on gala days and beneath a pall of purple velvet. The stick before me, although of ivory, was not cut from an elephant’s tusk or even from the tusk of a mammoth or mastodon. It grew as it is, and according to the most learned. opinion of many generations it grew single on the brow of a beast so glorious, so virtuous, so beautiful, that heaven vouchsafed the earth, as in the case of the phoenix, only one specimen at a time. For this is the horn of the unicorn.




Get it at Sybrina’s Blue Unicorn Book Store.








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Sybrina’s Blue Unicorn Book Store – Unicorn Wig

Unicorn Wig


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Where you’ll find unicorns, more unicorns and nothing but unicorns! Visit now.

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Journey To Osm – The Blue Unicorn’s Tale Reader Review by Seraphia

  Journey To Osm – The Blue Unicorn’s Tale
 Reader Review by Seraphia







Journey to Osm is a beautifully written tale of a herd of unicorns waiting on their prophesied savior to be born. He will be the one with the horn and the magic to save them all from the evil who wishes to destroy them all and enslave the world. The author builds such a beautiful world in this story. We meet unicorns, pendragons, two-leggeds (humans) and other strange creatures. This story tells the reader about young Blue who is made to not feel as if he belongs simply because his horn is not metal when he is born. “No metal. No magic.” You will feel the sadness that he feels as he seeks to hide from the herd and learn the extent of loss that they have all suffered at the hands of an evil man who seeks more and more power.


The story flows so well and kept me engaged the entire time. I kept turning page after page to learn what was going to happen next. There are moments of where I am annoyed or disappointed with certain characters, but for me, it helps make them even more “real” or at least relatable as believable characters. I love the romance that the author throws into the story. You see it coming when you learn of Blue’s stable-mate and how they came to be so close. It’s heartbreaking but beautiful at the same time.


There is nothing that I don’t like about this story. The author never becomes too focused on one particular part. The story flows well and keeps the reader engaged from beginning to end. I love the twists and surprises that the author throws into the story. It’s a wonderful story to read.


I am rating this book 5 out of 5 stars. If you are a fantasy lover this is a book to pick up. If you love stories about unicorns then this is a book to grab. I’m sure that you will enjoy.

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Unicorn Book Feature – Acorna by Anne McCaffrey

Sybrina’s Unicorn Book Pick



Unicorns!  How we love them. . .Luckily for all of us unicorn lovers there are hundreds of unicorn books available for all age groups.  I have gathered information about as many as I can find and have placed them here for you in one convenient spot on my blog.  Today’s Unicorn Book Feature is












Acorna

The Unicorn Girl

 By Anne McCaffrey and Margaret Ball






“Something’s Alive In There!”

She was just a little girl, with a tiny horn in the center of her forehead, funny-looking feet, beautiful silver hair, and several curious powers: the ability to purify air and water, make plants grow, and heal scars and broken bones. A trio of grizzled prospectors found her drifting in an escape pod amid the asteroids, adopted her, and took her to the bandit planet Kezdet, a place where no questions are asked and the girl might grow up free.

But Kezdet has its own dark secret. The prosperity of the planet is based on a hideous trade in child slave labor, administered by “The Piper” — a mystery man with special plans for Acorna and her powers. But free little girls have a way of growing into freedom-loving young women, and Acorna has special plans all her own. . .

Get it at Sybrina’s Blue Unicorn Book Store.








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Lone Star Book Blog Tours – Light From Distant Stars by Shawn Smucker

LIGHT FROM DISTANT STARS
by
SHAWN SMUCKER
Genre: Christian Fiction / Magical Realism / Rural Fiction
Publisher: Revell
Date of Publication: July 16, 2019
Number of Pages: 400

Scroll down for Giveaway!
 

When Cohen Marah steps over his father’s body in the basement embalming room of the family’s funeral home, he has no idea that he is stepping into a labyrinth of memory.

Over the next week, Cohen’s childhood comes back in living color. The dramatic events that led to his parents’ separation. The accident Cohen witnessed and the traumatic images he couldn’t unsee. And the two children in the forest who became his friends–and enlisted him in a dark and dangerous undertaking. As the lines blur between what was real and what was imaginary, Cohen is faced with the question he’s been avoiding:

Is he responsible for his father’s death?

Master story weaver Shawn Smucker relays a tale both eerie and enchanting, one that will have you questioning reality and reaching out for what is true, good, and genuine.

 


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Chapter Two of
Light from Distant Stars
By Shawn Smucker
Click to visit the Lone Star Book Blog Tour to read chapter one!

PART ONE
Monday, March 16, 2015

Darkness was upon the face of the deep.
Genesis 1:2

two
The Preacher
When Cohen was a small boy, lying on the floor under the church pews on a humid summer Sunday night, the bright ceiling lights shone. He listened to his father’s voice boom through the quiet, the heavy pauses filled with scattershot responses. “Amen!” and “Preach!” and semi- whispered versions of “Hallelujah!” so hushed and sincere they sent goose bumps racing up his skinny arms. 

Under the pews, on the deep red carpet, drowning in the hot, stuffy air, young Cohen drifted in and out of sleep. It was as if he had descended beneath some holy canopy and settled into the plush red carpet surrounded by a rain forest full of trees, which were actually the legs of pews and the legs of people and women’s dresses draped all the way to the floor, rustling ever so slightly with the sermon. He could smell the hairspray and the cologne and the sweat mingling like incense, a pleasing offering to the Lord. 

Far above him, like branches moving under the weight of resettling birds, people waved paper fans created out of their Sunday evening bulletins, folded an inch this way, an inch that way, stirring the air. But to no avail. Sweat came out of their pores. Sweat welled up in droplets like water on a glass. Sweat trickled down, always down. And even there, from the floor, Cohen could imagine it: the sweat that darkened the underarms of Mr. Pugitt’s light blue collared shirt, the sweat Mrs. Fisher blotted from her powdery temples, the sweat that made his father’s bald head shine like a beacon, and the sweat that sweetened the nape of Miss Flynne’s slender neck. 

Ah, his Sunday school teacher, Miss Flynne! Cohen was only nine years old in 1984, but he could tell that something about Miss Flynne opened doors into rooms where he had never wandered. Why couldn’t he speak when she looked at him? Why did the lines of her body push his heart into his throat? She was all bright white smiles and straight posture and something lovely, budding. 

His mother was not all smiles, not in 1984 and never before that and never since. Sometimes, from his place of repose under the church bench, he could peek out and see his mother’s stern face, eyes never leaving his father. The intensity with which she followed his father’s sermon was the only thing that could distract her enough to allow him to slip down onto the floor. No one else seemed to notice her lips, but Cohen did, the way she mouthed every single word to every single one of his father’s sermons, as if she had written them herself. Which she had. 

Sometimes, when Cohen’s father said a word that synchronize with his mother’s mouth, she would pause, her eyes those of a scorned prophet, one not welcomed in her own town. Cohen could tell it took everything in her not to stand up and interrupt his father, correct him, set him back in the record’s groove. But she would shake her head as if clearing away a gnat and find the cadence again. Somehow their words rediscovered each other there in the holy air, hers silent and hidden, his shouted, and Cohen’s mind drifted away. 

If Cohen rolled over or made too much noise or in any way reminded his mother of his existence there beneath the canopy, she hauled him back up by his upper arm or his ear or his hair, whatever she could reach, hissing admonitions, hoisting him back to the pew. He felt the eyes of the hundreds of other people on the back of his own neck, sitting there like drops of sweat, their glances grazing off his ears, skimming the top of his head, weighing down his shoulders. There was a certain weight that came with being the only son of a popular country preacher. There were certain expectations. 

His sister Kaye was always there, waiting for him in the canopy, only four years older than him and sitting completely still. She had an unnatural ability to weather even the longest of sermons without so much as twitching, without moving a single muscle. Sometimes she didn’t even blink for long minutes at a time. He knew. He watched her, counting the seconds. When they got older, she told him her secret to this, the things she thought about to keep her in that central spot, the stories she made up. She told him about the things in the church she would count: the wooden slats on the ceiling, the imperfections in the wooden pew, the number of pores on the back of the person’s neck in front of her and how those tiny hairs became an endless forest through which she embarked on an adventure. 

When Cohen became bored contemplating his sister’s stillness, which took only moments, his gaze joined with those hundreds of other gazes, the way small streams drown into bigger ones, and he stared at his father on the stage. Cohen was transfixed by what he saw. His father reached up with his long, slender fingers and loosened his tie. He raised a pointed finger to the heavens and made a desperate plea, his voice a cadence, a rhythm, a kind of calling out, and the congregation heaved with emotion. People shouted. Women’s shoulders shook with poorly suppressed sobs. Men leaned forward, their faces in their hands, as if scorched by Isaiah’s coal. 

Cohen’s father pulled a pure white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his bald head dry, and the lights shone. An usher opened the windows that ran along the east side of the building, and a cool night breeze blew through, leaking in and spreading along the floor, gathering in pools that Cohen slipped into when his mother had been taken up again by the words of her own sermon.









Shawn Smucker is the author of the young adult novels The Day the Angels Fell and The Edge of Over There, as well as the memoir Once We Were Strangers. He lives with his wife and six children in the city of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.



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Goddess Fish Promotions – Extinction Of All Children by LJ Epps

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. L.J. Epps will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Book Blast For

Extinction Of All Children
By L. J. Epps
Genre: YA Fantasy

The futuristic world of Craigluy has been divided into three territories and three economic classes. A large wall separates the territories, so the poor cannot mingle with the rich.

Since President Esther, the ruler over all of Craigluy, believes the poor do not have adequate means to take care of children, they are no longer allowed to procreate. Pregnant mothers are imprisoned until their babies are born, then the infants are taken away.

Emma Whisperer is the last child to survive. She is the last child born in lower-class Territory L before the law was instituted in the year 2080. She is the last eighteen-year-old.

Emma struggles to understand why she was spared while others weren’t. She doesn’t like the laws and believes they should be repealed. Her family doesn’t agree with her; they discourage her rebellious streak. Yet, she helps them to cover up their own family rebellion. She helps them to hide a big secret, a secret that could be both disastrous and deadly for members of their family.

As she meets new people along the way, Emma learns who she can and cannot trust. And, in the end, she makes a gut-wrenching decision that may be disastrous for everyone.

She finds herself in danger for doing what she feels is right.

Read an Excerpt

“I see your side is still bothering you.” He looks me up and down. “That’s why I came by in regular clothes. I knew you wouldn’t feel much like training. You should rest your side for a few days, like the doctor said.”

“How do you know what the doctor said?”

“Samuel told me. He said we should put off training, for a while.”

“Until I recuperate.” I groan again, pushing the pack more into my skin. “I don’t want to lose my newfound skills. Pretty soon, I will be good enough to beat you.”

“Now wait a minute.” He holds up his hands. “Slow it down, a little. You’re doing well, but don’t get ahead of yourself. I think the nickname Whisper has caused you to lose all sense of reality.”

“No, I’m still in my right mind,” I say. I grin like baby Abigail when you tickle her stomach.

“Seriously, though.” His eyes find mine. “Is your side all right?”

“It’s fine, or it will be.” My fingers sting, holding the pack.

“What about your hand?”

“They gave me some ointment to use.”

“Why did you let Samuel take you?” His chest rises and falls like the words were hard to say. “I mean, I asked to take you to the hospital and you refused. Why would you let Samuel take you, instead of me?”

About the Author: L.J. Epps is a lover of all things related to books: fiction and nonfiction novels, as well as biographies and autobiographies. She has also been known to sit and read comic books from cover to cover, several times over.

Over the last few years, L.J. has written several manuscripts; her mission is to publish all of them. She enjoys writing fiction in several genres, including contemporary romance and women’s fiction, as well as young adult dystopian, science fiction and fantasy. She loves to write because it immerses her into another world that is not her own.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ljta6b1c

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Sybrina’s Blue Unicorn Book Store – Unicorn Back Pack

Unicorn Back Pack


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Sybrina’s Blue Unicorn Book Store





Where you’ll find unicorns, more unicorns and nothing but unicorns! Visit now.

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Pump Up Your Book Blog Tour – Realms of Edenocht Decendants and Heirs by DS Johnson

* REALMS OF EDENOCHT DESCENDANTS AND HEIRS *

* by DS Johnson *

* Fantasy *

Title: REALMS OF EDENOCHT DESCENDANTS AND HEIRSAuthor: DS Johnson

Publisher: Rosecrest Publishing

Pages: 312

Genre: Action Adventure Fantasy

**********

 


 

Shaz, Edenocht’s forbidden War Wizard, his elemental mage Serin and,

miniature warriors, the Minca begin their unsurmountable task of

securing the ancient artifacts, the Sev-Rin-Ac-Lava. Their first task of

finding the sheath to the sword Shaz already has, takes them to the

realm of their friends the Minca. The companions find themselves in a

world torn open by earthquakes and melted earth as the evil Necromancer

Semias Trevelis re-incarnates an ancient Runecaster to remake one of the

ancient artifacts. The only hope in closing the torn and scorched realm

is with the help of the two remaining descendants of the original mages

of old, but Shaz doesn’t even know about them, to begin with, let alone

who they are or how to find them. Riddick, the Earth Sage, is deep in

his own dilemma of figuring out his powers and the appearance of new

Islands in the Turbulent Reef, is thrust from one realm to another until

he meets back up with Shaz and the others. Can Shaz and his friends

outsmart the cosmic powers at play and bring together the elements once

again or will there be a ripple of desolation across the planet?
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble

 
______________________
















First Chapter

Heavy

gusts whipped through the barren wasteland. The radiating heat stung their

lungs as they barreled over the uneven ground. Long strands of purple haze

lined the night sky. Murky shadows played tricks on their senses as they dodged

the tiny night insects. Turkill snagged a small stone as he turned a sharp

corner. He placed it in the pocket of his sling and swung it over his head. He

regained his footing and twisted at the waist. He let the momentum propel the

stone. It sliced through the air like a razor and hit the Jaduuk square in the

forehead. The creature fell backward at an instant. The pack of Jaduuk still

behind leapt over their fallen pack mate. They dug their hind legs into the

ground and leapt over scattered boulders with ease.
Ladtwig

ran onto a half-fallen tree and slammed his walking stick into the ground. His

small frame launched into the air.  He

pulled his arms and legs in tight and rolled through the smelly,

orc-like-wolf-hunter’s arms. He somersaulted onto a jagged boulder on the other

side and scurried over the edge.
“Send

our scents into the breeze,” Shaz said.
Serin

twirled her hands, spinning the air before launching it toward the Jaduuk. The

Jaduuk hunter snarled. Drool dripped from his long fangs at the sides of his

mouth. Long ears at the top of his head twitched, and his snout-like nose

puckered as he caught the scent. He skidded in the soft dirt and shot off

toward them. Turkill leapt behind the boulder Ladtwig was behind and rolled to

a stop.
“That

should draw them this way,” Shaz said.
“And

then what?” Serin asked.
“We

set a trap.”
“How

those things are twice our size, and we have no idea what they’re capable of?”
“Then

we find out.”
“You

know, I’m starting to doubt your logic here,” Serin said.
“Here,

help me with this rock.”
Serin

called the air and sent a puff under the immense boulder.  Even with her air magic, the boulder was

almost too heavy to move. She gripped the ground with her toes and stretched

her arms out as far as she could. The boulder inched gradually. Shaz thrust his

shoulder into the stone and heaved. It moved into place and Serin dropped her

arms. They hurried behind the rock and crouched into its shadow.
Serin

gripped the cold stone for support. Shaz could tell she was becoming weaker and

he did rely on her air magic more than he should. Think, think, what would Grandfather tell me to do?  he thought.
“Do

you think you could make a sand pit, while I keep them busy?” Shaz asked.
Serin

studied him with a little surprise. She understood from his expression that he

knew she was tiring. She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. Shaz touched her

shoulder and she became aware of his energy. It tickled her skin and gave her a

little more confidence. Shaz gripped the hilt of the sword and rounded the

boulder. At first, he couldn’t see anything, but then, a funny image played out

in his head. He sucked in a deep breath and the image became a little clearer.
“One,

two, three, four, five.” Shaz counted.
He

found five Jaduuk scents and a blurry image of where they were formed. Three

were larger than the other two and he surmised they were the males. He pulled

the sword from his side and allowed the energy to surge through his arm. He

took several steps from Serin and then ran toward the smaller beasts.
Serin

slipped off her boots and wriggled her toes into the soft sand. She hadn’t

understood why Shaz wanted the boulder moved but now understood it was because

the ground was softer here. She gathered the strength she needed and began

filling the sand with air. A steady stream of wind burrowed into the sand

making the top bubble and bounce. Serin’s arms ached. She closed her eyes and

tried to focus on the wind, but she found it difficult. She breathed heavily,

and her body began to sag. The wind continued to burrow deep into the ground

making the circle widened. She had no idea how big to make it because she had

no idea how big the beasts actually were, or if they could jump high, or at

all.
Shaz

clenched his fist. The pounding of the ground intensified as the pack quickened

their paces. He was confident they had him locked into their senses and the

only way out was to fight. A high-pitched snarl echoed over his shoulder. The

enormous jaguar leapt over Shaz and sank her claws into a Jaduuk. The creature

recoiled. A strong odor wafted through the air and Shaz covered his nose.

Jagwynn gripped the sand and slid on her haunches. The Jaduuk snarled and

roared. Jag returned the roar and leapt at the Jaduuk. The Jaduuk dug its claws

into Jag’s flesh. Jagwynn yelped and her eyes widened. She opened her jaws as

wide as she could and gripped the Jaduuk’s face with her claws. She sunk her

teeth into the think leathery texture of the beast’s neck. The Jaduuk reared

back and tried to shove the huge cat off. Jagwynn swung her tail to keep her

balance as her hind legs pushed herself onto the beast. They toppled to the

ground and the more the Jaduuk wriggled the tighter Jag clenched.
Shaz

ran at one of the smaller Jaduuk. He flipped the sword and sliced the beast’s

chin. The beast roared and stumbled backward. Shaz spun and brought his blade

over his head. The slight glow of the sword’s markings made a mark in the night

sky. He pulled it down with ease and listened to the whipping sound it made.

The blade sunk deep into the shoulder of the oncoming Jaduuk. A high-pitched

howl pierced Shaz’s head and he flinched.
Shaz

flew several feet from another Jaduuk’s fist hitting him in the ribs. Shaz

struggled to breathe as the pain raced to his brain. The cold gritty earth

found its way into his lungs as he gasped for air. Shaz coughed and gagged as a

mixture of blood and sand escaped his lungs. The metallic taste the blood left,

sank into his consciousness. The heat of the Jaduuk’s breath ripped down his

spine. He couldn’t make his body move. No matter how hard he tried and how much

he yelled in his mind, it wouldn’t respond.
“Stay

here,” Turkill said.
“What

are you going to do?” Ladtwig asked.
“I

don’t know yet, but I have to help.”
“We

are way too small, they will eat us alive,” Ladtwig said.
“Maybe

that’s the way we fight them then,” Turkill said.
“How

do you mean?”
“Well,

they can’t fight something they can’t see.”
“But

they see with their noses.”
“Yep.”
Turkill

pulled all his leather armor and clothes off, clear down to his skivvies.

Ladtwig’s eyes popped out of his head. Turkill pulled his knife from his belt

and sliced several desert plants off their stems. He rubbed them vigorously

until his bronzed skin no longer showed.
Ladtwig

followed and covered himself.
“This

plant stinks,” Ladtwig said.
“Uh

huh.”
Turkill

removed his sling and gathered as many rocks as he could and shoved them into

his pouch. He secured them around his waist and crept out from around the

boulder. Ladtwig filled his pouch and grabbed his dart gun.
“I

thought you were out of darts?” Turkill asked.
“I

am, but you never know.”
The

steady wind had long dried all the water from their bodies. It was hard to move

around without feeling the sting of their skin cracking. The heavy clouds thinned

letting a soft hint of the moon’s light shine over the wasteland. Turkill

caught a glimpse of the pack running toward Shaz and Serin.
“Over

there,” Turkill said.
Ladtwig

nodded and hurried around the other side of a broad faced rock. They froze in

place when they heard Jagwynn snag her prey. Seconds later Turkill waved to

Ladtwig and they maneuvered closer.
The

largest Jaduuk waited at the back of the pack. He twisted his ears back and

forth and sniffed the air. Turkill crept up to a desert plant and cringed as a

twig snapped under his foot. The Jaduuk cocked his head and flicked his long

pointy ear backward. Turkill froze and held his breath. The beast turned and

studied the landscape. He sniffed again and sank his massive claws into the

ground. A deep orange glow radiated from the creature’s eyes. Turkill’s heart

sank and he pushed the bile back into his stomach. Ladtwig tossed a stone

across his path on the other side and the beast turned. The Jaduuk meticulously

searched the night.
Turkill

laid a stone into his sling and sucked in a deep breath. His arm shot above his

head and his wrist flicked the sling so hard that the motion didn’t even take

half a second. The rock soared through the air like lightning and sank into the

back of the beast’s skull. The Jaduuk stopped mid-step and hesitated. He

touched the back of his head and felt the stone. He turned around in slow

motion and tried to make sense of what happened.
Turkill

held his breath as he tried to understand why the rock didn’t take him down. The

beast shook his head and the orange glow returned. Turkill gulped and sunk as

low to the ground as he could. Ladtwig flicked his sling sending another stone

into the Jaduuk’s temple. The beast stumbled but didn’t fall. Turkill scoured

around in his pouch for the sharpest stone he could find and loaded it into his

sling. He stood, raised his arm and flicked his wrist. The stone shot out of

the sling and ripped across the sky.
The

fierce rotation of the rock became like a razor as it sliced its enormous bicep.

Ladtwig slipped as he stepped over a rock and fell. He rolled over and rubbed

his hiney. He hurried to his feet and positioned himself behind a rock. He

reached for another stone, but his pouch wasn’t there.
“Blast,”

he said.
The

Jaduuk turned and moved toward him. Ladtwig hurried to the bush to search for

his pouch. Turkill moved behind a dead tree trunk and loaded his sling. He

peeked over the trunk but couldn’t see the beast. He moved to the end of where

it had been, but it wasn’t there either. He hurried to the other end and peeked

under the haggard roots. He could barely make out the Jaduuk and crept to a

closer rock.
Shaz

gripped his ribs and closed his eyes. A strong sensation coursed his torso

calming the pain to a tolerable degree. He caught a glimpse of Serin stepping

back behind the boulder. His heart swelled with undeniable gratitude for her.

He shook his head and flung the Honor Blade behind him, letting the motion

carry him back to his feet. The Jaduuk jumped back but not far enough. The tip

of the blade raced over its belly.
Shaz

parried and sidestepped. The Jaduuk pulled a battle ax off his back. Shaz

studied the images in his head the best he could and readied himself. Shaz

threw up his sword and caught the ax at its head. He spun the blade and yanked.

The Jaduuk gripped the long-hardened wood shaft tightly in his paw. Shaz let

the blade slip away and parried back. The Jaduuk pounded its chest and howled.

The grounds vibrations rippled into his body. He identified the remainder of the

pack and learned they had mobilized toward them. Still keeping the beast in

sight, he checked to see if Serin was ready yet.
Serin

leaned against the boulder and wiped the sweat from her brows. Her lightweight

cotton tunic stuck to her slender frame. She tried to steady her breathing but

found it difficult. She rubbed her aching arms and shivered from the wind as it

blew against her wet skin. She examined her sinkhole and confident it would at

least take a few of the beasts. Serin brushed off her feet and slipped them

back into her boots. She boosted herself from the boulder and curled her tongue

between her teeth. A high-pitched whistle whipped over the air. The long-draped

fur at the top the Jaduuk’s ears curved over to shield its inner ear from the

noise. Shaz closed the gap and brought the sword up to a side strike. The blade

made contact at the base of the creature’s neck. The ridiculous stench wreaked

havoc on Shaz’s senses and he struggled to keep his nerves. The Jaduuk

staggered, swaying back and forth until it lost consciousness and fell with a

thud. Shaz searched his night vision and determined the rest of the pack wasn’t

far behind.
Jagwynn

released the lifeless body and searched for her next target. She narrowed her

eyes and slunk close to the ground. The coolness of the red dirt felt good on

her warmed fur. At the back of the pack, she found the smallest Jaduuk and made

her way. Jagwynn lay in the taller straggly grass and waited until the Jaduuk

came close enough. She lunged with her forceful hind legs and released her

claws. Jagwynn sunk her claws into the Jaduuk’s shoulder and flung it to the

ground. She flipped around and lunged again.
The

Jaduuk went sprawling to the ground. Its look of shock and instant fear fed

Jagwynn’s excitement and she sank her teeth into its neck. The Jaduuk squealed

and flailed around but Jagwynn gripped tighter.
Ladtwig

found his pouch and tried to tie it back onto his breeches. The hot breath of

the Jaduuk caressed his bare skin. The hairs on the back of his neck stood out

and his body shivered. He gulped and turned around. His head lifted upward as

far as it could go. The orange glow was now dark red. Its long snout flared,

and drool dripped from its giant fangs that crested its eyebrows. Ladtwig

searched his pouch but his heart sunk when there were no stones. He slid his

foot backward.
Ladtwig

didn’t see the rock behind him and toppled over it. He scooched backward

scrambling to figure out what to do. As he grappled the ground he brushed up

against a prickly plant. He broke off a long stem and jammed it into his dart

gun. The Jaduuk opened his mouth wide and roared. Ladtwig sucked in and blew as

hard as he could through the dart gun. The stick shot out and lodged into the

back of the beast’s throat.
Stunned,

the Jaduuk dropped its ax and grabbed at its throat. Ladtwig scurried out from

under its extensive claws as it staggered around. Turkill shot across the dirt

and loaded his sling. The rock ripped across the sky with a whistle and

embedded into the Jaduuk’s throat crushing its airway. Ladtwig jumped to his

feet and darted back to the boulder they had left their clothes behind.
“One,

more second,” Shaz said under his breath.
Serin

whistled again and peeked out. Shaz dug his boot into the ground and lunged toward

her. He crossed the distance at full speed and slid to a stop as he rounded the

boulder.
“Are

you ready?” he asked breathing heavily.
“Yes,

but I have no idea how many it will hold?” she said.
Shaz

nodded and peered around the rock.
“In

about ten seconds, run that way as fast as you can and don’t look back,” Shaz

said.
Serin

scowled and searched his face. He wasn’t playing, and a hint of fear crept into

her chest.
“Go!”

he said.
Serin

propelled herself from the rock and dug her boots into the sturdy ground. She

was glad the clouds had thinned letting her see enough of the landscape, so she

didn’t have to stumble around. The pounding of the beast’s heavy claws drowned

out the blood beating in her ears. The sudden boost of adrenaline surged

throughout her body giving her a satisfying renewal. She leapt over a fallen

tree trunk and caught herself as the loose ground moved under her feet.
From

the corner of her eye, she found Ladtwig and Turkill huddled under the lowest

ledge of a substantial rock. She picked up a rock and chucked it at them. They

jumped, grabbed their things and darted toward her. She slowed her pace, so

they could catch up.
“Don’t

stop running,” she said as they met up with her.
“Where’s

Shaz?” Turkill asked.
“He’s

coming,” she said.


































 


The World of Online Gaming – Is it Bad?

As a mother of  PC gamer boys (and a hubby) I often hear the remarks of other mothers that shame me for allowing them to play online video games instead of playing some kind of sport or reading or playing a musical instrument. Even in the world of reading there is a stigma that playing online video games or console gaming is a demoralizing activity and that reading, sports or musical instruments are equated with higher educated status. I don’t argue that there is great value in these activities, I only wish they didn’t have to suggest that those who love the gaming world are somehow less than those who spend their time elsewhere. We also love to read and play outdoors, with rc trucks and hike and camp and other things.

As someone who grew up telling stories at the earliest ages I can remember, I decided it was time to fix the disparity I felt there was between the world of online gaming and reading. An interesting thing to me is, most, if not all, online gamers read fantasy, Tolkien, Jordan etc, but it would seem that a good lot of readers don’t share the love of fantasy in the online gaming community, and that’s ok.

I’m not here to argue point of view, I just felt there was a huge chasm of opportunity to take advantage of and hopefully bring a bit of the online gaming experience into a real-life reading adventure by bringing  to life the characters of the game I and my husband used to play.

I have been blessed to have many wonderfully descriptive adaptations of every genre of fantasy and adventure there is. Years ago, after marrying my husband who loves to play online games on the pc (computer) and now consoles, our family favorite is the Play Station, I was sucked into the exciting world of MMORPG games. For those of you who don’t know the jargon, that’s Massive Multi-Online Role-Playing Games. The first game we played together was a game with characters that were elemental in nature using wind magic, healing with water magic etc., mixed with skill sets and structures of hand to hand combat, long rang fighting styles such as archers, in addition to races of humans, orc, elves, and dwarves. The world was vast, and the adventures were quest driven as well as individual play while grinding the mob kills, (killing monsters) in order to gain experience points and skill points in order to level.

The game was very fun and addicting, but soon came a little one and play time changed from mob killing to diapering and floor time. As the years passed, the lives of Shaz and Serin, the main characters from the game, became the main characters in the stories that were made up and told to the kids. Their characters adapted to include aspects of my son and my husband and Shaz started to experience the trials that a young person of today might have but only in their world of the game.


I started the book series Teorran Belt Series, Realms of Edenocht as way to help tell a story but also be an instrument to talk about life lessons and how to overcome issues that my children, and all children, could relate to. There are many books planned and a vast world created and much, much more to come, I hope you stick with me and enjoy the adventure!







As a little girl, DS Johnson thought she was dumb. In the first, second, and third grades she was in the ‘Resource’ program or ‘Chapter 8’ as it is also called. Even though she was then put in the regular class, and she was such a young age when she had caught up with the other students, she knew within herself all too well by then, she was not a smart child. All the way through high school this girl struggled. She graduated with a glorious 2.9. Yes, it was heart breaking for those little numbers to reflect the great struggle and all the efforts she had put forth.

She went on to start beauty school, figuring she wasn’t college material. Suddenly, she learned that she wasn’t dumb after all. She was what is called a kinesthetic learner or ‘hands on’ learner. She LOVED it. She went on to do very well, for many years. Until, life got complicated. She had five children, a husband, and a disabled mother who now required constant care. While contemplating how to earn a little bit of extra income, now that doing hair wasn’t an option, a thought came to her.

‘Write a book’ it said.

She replied by looking around and with her finger pointing at herself, and said,

“Who me? I graduated high school with a 2.9 remember?”

The little thought came again, “Yes, you. Write a book.”

It so happened, that she told her younger sister a bedtime story almost every night as a child and had been telling her children nighttime stories for most of their lives, so she did. It took five years to learn from the internet, a few writing classes, some great blogs, a lot of practice, one very good editor and the awesome support of her family. But she did it. DS has a wonderful adaption of the intricately detailed structure of role playing games mixed with the vivid descriptions of the fantasy genre to create a unique world of elemental magic, wizards, sorcery and quest filled adventure unlike any adventure you have seen before.

Her latest book is the action adventure fantasy, Realms of Edenocht Descendants and Heirs.

Website: www.dsjohnsonbooks.com

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

 

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Journey To Osm – The Blue Unicorn’s Tale Reader Review by KC Finn

  Journey To Osm – The Blue Unicorn’s Tale
 Reader Review by K. C. Finn






Journey to Osm: The Blue Unicorn’s Tale is a work of high fantasy fiction penned by author Sybrina Durant. Written for all ages, the action takes place in MarBryn, a world of unicorns where the creatures live in a sentient society. Their numbers are dwindling and the species, known as Metal Horns, are slowly dying out, which means their magic is dying with them. When their Oracle predicts that the ill-fated unicorns might find their salvation in a newborn foal, everyone’s eyes are on Blue from the moment he’s born. Unfortunately, Blue is born without metal, but the pressure of being such a disappointment drives him to succeed in other ways, and he might just turn out to be the saviour his clan is looking for after all.The first thing that I absolutely loved about this tale was the prophecy-gone-wrong concept at its very beginning. Throughout the book, author Sybrina Durant subverts the norms of this kind of high fantasy, breaking many tropes, but then bringing in others to surprise you at just the right moment. The result is an intriguing plot line and a tale of true grit and determination as Blue attempts to live up to expectations, despite not being born with the powers he was claimed to have. There were moments where I genuinely forgot that I was reading about unicorns, because the emotional story lines of the characters were strong and relatable throughout. I believe that many fantasy fans will enjoy Journey to Osm: The Blue Unicorn’s Tale.



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