Rival Gates's Blog, page 19
October 12, 2016
Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"
What really drew his attention was a broadsword in an ornate scabbard attached to a sash-like belt meant to go over the shoulder and rest the sword against the back. Argentoe was drawn to it and found himself pulling the gear from the sack first. He gripped the leather-wrapped handle and drew the blade. Suddenly he heard a voice in his head.
Finally, you awaken me, Master. I had slept in that scabbard so long I thought some terrible fate had befallen you. No matter. I’m just glad to feel the air against my blade again.
Argentoe was terrified to near panic. There is a voice in my head and I think it is coming from the sword I am holding. This is impossible.
What are you talking about, Master? Of course I’m talking to you. I am your sword after all. Whatever is the matter with you?
How can you be talking to me if you are a sword? And why do you keep calling me ‘Master’?
Master, I am your sword, Falconfeather. Whenever I am out of my sheath I am awake. If I am in your hand our minds are joined as one. So we can hear one another and read the other’s thoughts.
Yes; I can feel you. There were two things I felt were missing from my life. Your consciousness was one of them.
Correct, Master. The Red Sapphire is the other. Let me see. I am reading your mind now and the picture is becoming clear to me. You have almost no memory at all. It is like a blanket has been thrown over your memory with small holes every so often so bits can come through to you. That is the reason you don’t remember me or the staff with the Red Sapphire. Once you have that back, I’m sure it will clear up all this memory business.
One thing to straighten out now is your name. I have no idea who this Argentoe person is, but your name is Linvin Grithinshield. It is one of the most revered names in the entire world, so I don’t want to hear any more of this Argentoe business. Your name is Linvin. Understand?
Linvin answered, Yes. I understand. My name is Linvin Grithinshield and I am your master.
For now, my predatory senses tell me we are about to be attacked by a pack of Trogoandras. I can smell them on the air.
How wonderful. It will be like the old days. Just you and me will take on and crush all of them. Oh, what a glorious fight we will have. I can almost taste their blood on my blade. I see you remember a good deal about them. That’s excellent. It will help us in the fight. Let us prepare quickly and then talk strategy.
Finally, you awaken me, Master. I had slept in that scabbard so long I thought some terrible fate had befallen you. No matter. I’m just glad to feel the air against my blade again.
Argentoe was terrified to near panic. There is a voice in my head and I think it is coming from the sword I am holding. This is impossible.
What are you talking about, Master? Of course I’m talking to you. I am your sword after all. Whatever is the matter with you?
How can you be talking to me if you are a sword? And why do you keep calling me ‘Master’?
Master, I am your sword, Falconfeather. Whenever I am out of my sheath I am awake. If I am in your hand our minds are joined as one. So we can hear one another and read the other’s thoughts.
Yes; I can feel you. There were two things I felt were missing from my life. Your consciousness was one of them.
Correct, Master. The Red Sapphire is the other. Let me see. I am reading your mind now and the picture is becoming clear to me. You have almost no memory at all. It is like a blanket has been thrown over your memory with small holes every so often so bits can come through to you. That is the reason you don’t remember me or the staff with the Red Sapphire. Once you have that back, I’m sure it will clear up all this memory business.
One thing to straighten out now is your name. I have no idea who this Argentoe person is, but your name is Linvin Grithinshield. It is one of the most revered names in the entire world, so I don’t want to hear any more of this Argentoe business. Your name is Linvin. Understand?
Linvin answered, Yes. I understand. My name is Linvin Grithinshield and I am your master.
For now, my predatory senses tell me we are about to be attacked by a pack of Trogoandras. I can smell them on the air.
How wonderful. It will be like the old days. Just you and me will take on and crush all of them. Oh, what a glorious fight we will have. I can almost taste their blood on my blade. I see you remember a good deal about them. That’s excellent. It will help us in the fight. Let us prepare quickly and then talk strategy.
October 11, 2016
Tuesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"
She looked up and saw him bobbing just off the ground with a red glow surrounding him. “Falconfeather is a most incredible sword,” she said. “She was just telling me about your uncle and the special bond you two have. He sounds like someone I would like.”
Linvin disrobed and cast a layer of red magic around his bandages to keep them dry. Then he immersed himself in the water and began the painstaking job of washing the Trogoandras blood off him. “Anvar would have liked you as well. It is unfortunate that I do not think you will ever meet.”
Corilon stood and began pacing with Falconfeather in her hand. Every time she looked like she was going to speak, she would stop herself. Finally, her frustration overcame her and she spoke plainly. “So let me see if I have this right. Mandrean has your uncle. If you don’t go, he will kill him. It is so late in the year he might have already killed him. So you feel your duty is to sacrifice yourself when you know Mandrean will certainly kill you both. Am I correct in all these statements?”
Linvin hovered out of the water and over to his clothes. “I believe now is the part where you tell me there is no point in going at all. But if you know all of that, then you know I cannot forsake Anvar even if there is the most remote chance that I can save him.”
Corilon placed her hands on her hips and stated angrily, “You forgot the part where I remind you that Mandrean doesn’t want Anvar. He wants you. Going there is exactly what he desires. You will not survive. Falconfeather is the most prideful, arrogant entity I have ever known and even she expects you to die. So why, why must you go?”
Linvin had just pulled on his trousers and addressed her harshly. “Because I am his only chance. I love you, but you are not in danger. I love him and he is in danger. For that reason, I must go. He would not be in this danger if not for me. That is another reason. Did Falconfeather forget to tell you I have a knack of making impossible situations work?”
“So you have a plan?’ Corilon asked.
“I have nothing set as of yet, but I assure you I do not intend to go quietly into their trap. I am going in with the mindset that I will bring both Anvar and myself home alive. Then I could take you home with me to Sartan. You would not want for anything.”
“And my family? What would happen to them?”
Linvin finished dressing. He shrunk the staff and stuck it to his back. Then he recalled Falconfeather and put her to sleep in her scabbard. “I will buy them whatever farm they want in Sartan. They can live in safety and prosperity for generations.” He hovered over and picked up his wife, kissing her. At first she kissed back and then began pounding him in the chest with the bottom parts of her fists.
“No, no, no. You’re living in a dreamland. If you leave now, I will never see you again. I know it. You said only moments ago that you didn’t think Anvar and I would ever meet. That means you believe it as well.” Then she turned away for a moment and hid her tears. Her voice became resolute. “I could stop you from going, you know.”
Linvin disrobed and cast a layer of red magic around his bandages to keep them dry. Then he immersed himself in the water and began the painstaking job of washing the Trogoandras blood off him. “Anvar would have liked you as well. It is unfortunate that I do not think you will ever meet.”
Corilon stood and began pacing with Falconfeather in her hand. Every time she looked like she was going to speak, she would stop herself. Finally, her frustration overcame her and she spoke plainly. “So let me see if I have this right. Mandrean has your uncle. If you don’t go, he will kill him. It is so late in the year he might have already killed him. So you feel your duty is to sacrifice yourself when you know Mandrean will certainly kill you both. Am I correct in all these statements?”
Linvin hovered out of the water and over to his clothes. “I believe now is the part where you tell me there is no point in going at all. But if you know all of that, then you know I cannot forsake Anvar even if there is the most remote chance that I can save him.”
Corilon placed her hands on her hips and stated angrily, “You forgot the part where I remind you that Mandrean doesn’t want Anvar. He wants you. Going there is exactly what he desires. You will not survive. Falconfeather is the most prideful, arrogant entity I have ever known and even she expects you to die. So why, why must you go?”
Linvin had just pulled on his trousers and addressed her harshly. “Because I am his only chance. I love you, but you are not in danger. I love him and he is in danger. For that reason, I must go. He would not be in this danger if not for me. That is another reason. Did Falconfeather forget to tell you I have a knack of making impossible situations work?”
“So you have a plan?’ Corilon asked.
“I have nothing set as of yet, but I assure you I do not intend to go quietly into their trap. I am going in with the mindset that I will bring both Anvar and myself home alive. Then I could take you home with me to Sartan. You would not want for anything.”
“And my family? What would happen to them?”
Linvin finished dressing. He shrunk the staff and stuck it to his back. Then he recalled Falconfeather and put her to sleep in her scabbard. “I will buy them whatever farm they want in Sartan. They can live in safety and prosperity for generations.” He hovered over and picked up his wife, kissing her. At first she kissed back and then began pounding him in the chest with the bottom parts of her fists.
“No, no, no. You’re living in a dreamland. If you leave now, I will never see you again. I know it. You said only moments ago that you didn’t think Anvar and I would ever meet. That means you believe it as well.” Then she turned away for a moment and hid her tears. Her voice became resolute. “I could stop you from going, you know.”
October 7, 2016
Blog Appearance
The famous blog, “In the Harem” was kind enough to post my information. Check it out at http://bernardfoong.typepad.com/in_th... It was really well done. I want to thank them for finding room for me.
October 5, 2016
Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"
Argentoe exhaled a deep breath and spoke. “May I speak?” The table fell silent. “I was up nearly all of last night and counted at least seven different Trogoandras voices. Those are just the ones I heard. There could easily be others that came with them who did not signal. They called all night to relay their positions and coordinate. It was also their intention to sew fear in our ranks. There has been a strong northern wind and that delivers all our scents into the forest. They smell the fear in our party. They know we are ripe to be plucked. As such, they will rest during the day and then strike after dark when their numbers will be disguised. You see, the danger has not dissipated. It has become critical. A great attack is coming and we need to be prepared.”
“What makes you so sure of all this?” Stynard asked skeptically.
“For one thing, I listened to them last night and can pick out the different voices as surely as I can all of yours,” Argentoe began. “For another thing, I have knowledge of these creatures and their hunting styles. They would not mass so many if they did not plan to attack. They are too selfish in nature to share a prize they thought they could gather alone. I am right about this and we have until sunset to prepare.”
Stynard did not like being told he was wrong, but a quick look around the table clearly showed Argentoe had the full support of his family. His only choice was to go along with Argentoe and hope he was mistaken.
“Very well, Argentoe. We will follow your lead. If you happen to be right, then what would you have us do?”
Argentoe picked up on Stynard’s cynical tone and pounded his fist down. “I am right. So the first thing you can do is wipe that smug look off your face or I will leave you to face those demons alone.
“Now as I see it, they will use one of three possible strategies for attack. They never attack in a group without a plan. The first plan is to go for the easy pickings in the smokehouse. There is almost no chance of bodily injury and they could make off with quite a bit of smoked meat.
“The second plan is to storm the barn. They know we will have the cattle penned up in there. Once they deal with any defenses we put up, they will have all the meat they could want without even having to chase it down. It would take a large pack to pull off such an attack.
“Their final option is to attack and kill us first and then ravage the barn and smokehouse at their leisure. They do not respect humans as adversaries by themselves and would seriously discount our threat when they are in a pack. Trogos are kings of the forest, so after they slaughter the herd they need not worry about other predators honing in on their kill.
“I spent the better part of last night going over the merits of each plan and have made my conclusion. They will not try the first plan because dried meat has little appeal to wild carnivores. It is a last resort they would eat out of necessity like we would with salted biscuits.
“The third plan would tend to make sense, but they want to limit their exposure to injury as much as possible. They may not respect us, but that does not mean they want to sacrifice several members of the pack for their victory. People facing annihilation will fight harder than those who can run and hide. They smell our fear. That smell is strong. If I were them, I would disturb our sleep with constant howls, which they have done, and spook the animals throughout the day. By the time I attacked at night, I would expect the petrified farmers to offer little or no fight so long as my pack left them alone. I would have my victory with no loss to the pack.”
The table was quiet as the faces looked at one another. After a great deal of mumbling and hand gestures Stynard spoke for the group. “Your argument sounds plausible. What actions should we take?”
Argentoe rubbed his chin and began walking around the table.
“There are two options. We can let them have access to the animals and they will surely leave us alone. Or we can fight. To do so against an unknown number of Trogoandras could bring death for some or all of us. The choice must be yours.”
“What makes you so sure of all this?” Stynard asked skeptically.
“For one thing, I listened to them last night and can pick out the different voices as surely as I can all of yours,” Argentoe began. “For another thing, I have knowledge of these creatures and their hunting styles. They would not mass so many if they did not plan to attack. They are too selfish in nature to share a prize they thought they could gather alone. I am right about this and we have until sunset to prepare.”
Stynard did not like being told he was wrong, but a quick look around the table clearly showed Argentoe had the full support of his family. His only choice was to go along with Argentoe and hope he was mistaken.
“Very well, Argentoe. We will follow your lead. If you happen to be right, then what would you have us do?”
Argentoe picked up on Stynard’s cynical tone and pounded his fist down. “I am right. So the first thing you can do is wipe that smug look off your face or I will leave you to face those demons alone.
“Now as I see it, they will use one of three possible strategies for attack. They never attack in a group without a plan. The first plan is to go for the easy pickings in the smokehouse. There is almost no chance of bodily injury and they could make off with quite a bit of smoked meat.
“The second plan is to storm the barn. They know we will have the cattle penned up in there. Once they deal with any defenses we put up, they will have all the meat they could want without even having to chase it down. It would take a large pack to pull off such an attack.
“Their final option is to attack and kill us first and then ravage the barn and smokehouse at their leisure. They do not respect humans as adversaries by themselves and would seriously discount our threat when they are in a pack. Trogos are kings of the forest, so after they slaughter the herd they need not worry about other predators honing in on their kill.
“I spent the better part of last night going over the merits of each plan and have made my conclusion. They will not try the first plan because dried meat has little appeal to wild carnivores. It is a last resort they would eat out of necessity like we would with salted biscuits.
“The third plan would tend to make sense, but they want to limit their exposure to injury as much as possible. They may not respect us, but that does not mean they want to sacrifice several members of the pack for their victory. People facing annihilation will fight harder than those who can run and hide. They smell our fear. That smell is strong. If I were them, I would disturb our sleep with constant howls, which they have done, and spook the animals throughout the day. By the time I attacked at night, I would expect the petrified farmers to offer little or no fight so long as my pack left them alone. I would have my victory with no loss to the pack.”
The table was quiet as the faces looked at one another. After a great deal of mumbling and hand gestures Stynard spoke for the group. “Your argument sounds plausible. What actions should we take?”
Argentoe rubbed his chin and began walking around the table.
“There are two options. We can let them have access to the animals and they will surely leave us alone. Or we can fight. To do so against an unknown number of Trogoandras could bring death for some or all of us. The choice must be yours.”
October 4, 2016
News on Repercussions
Repercussions Abound continues to sell well on Amazon. Many people are shocked by what transpires. Some of the events make the readers sad while others make them excited. There is a little something in this for everyone including the return of an old character who is funny as anything. I have been inundated with questions about how the book ends. The funny part is that it was supposed to answer their questions. In the end, it answered all the questions hanging out from the first three books but created new ones. That’s alright though. I love leaving cliffhangers for my readers. After all, the book isn’t called, “No More Repercussions.” If you haven’t read it yet, it’s a good read for $2.99 on Kindle. Here is the link. https://www.amazon.com/Repercussions-... Give it a shot even if you haven’t read the ones before. There’s a section to catch you up to speed.
September 28, 2016
Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"
In the Commander’s Office of the Imperial Guard Barracks sat Commander Acreas at his desk with a feather, an ink well, and a pile of papers and scrolls. He was taller than Linvin and had a dominant physical presence, even among humans. Were he to stand, his intimidating stature would become most apparent. His long brown hair was bound together in the back making his strands pull tight against his head. Dressed in his fine uniform he cast a mighty shadow even from behind the desk. With his long sword beside him it was clear that paperwork was not one of his favorite duties.
There came a knock at the door. “Commander Acreas, it’s Captain Boshring. May I enter?”
Happy to have an excuse to end his task, Acreas set down his feather and answered, “Do come in, Boshring.”
In walked a man who was still imposing, but did not cut the broad lines of his muscular leader. “Commander, I have news for you.”
“We are alone, Boshring. There is no need for titles. What news brings you here with such zeal, My Friend?”
“Firstly, I have had all the Imperial Guard Captains recalled to the capital and given time consuming duties as per your instructions. I have also moved as many guards into the city as the barracks can hold. The remainder are camped outside the city. I told the men there might be a threat to the Emperor and that was why they were here. In all, nearly 90 percent of the Guard is in and around the city.”
“Excellent,” Acreas said as he sat back. “You are sure the other captains will follow me if the emperor dies?”
Boshring nodded, “They are with you so long as you do not betray your oath and kill your father yourself. They would see that as a lack of worthiness on your part.”
Acreas took to his feet and swept the papers from his desk in a violent stroke. Then he drew his sword and watched it as the light danced across the blade. “My Father. If he would only admit to being that, this coup would not be necessary. He thinks he is so smart by denying my birthright and keeping me here to watch over. The only ones more incompetent than him, are his spies. Oh what I would give to be the one to ram this steel through his heart. Alas, that is not to be. Is there any word on Grithinshield yet?”
“That is the other part of my news, Acreas. The frost is nearly upon us and still there is no sign of Grithinshield. For this plan to work, we need him to kill your father. The Emperor is angered by the long delay and has sent for Anvar Greenlith to see him in his courtroom. I thought you would want to know.”
Acreas looked sharply at Boshring and replaced his sword in its scabbard. “I must be the one to take Greenlith there. It is my only chance to question him. Has anyone else been dispatched to get him?”
“A squad of goblins was sent, but you still have time to intercept them.”
There came a knock at the door. “Commander Acreas, it’s Captain Boshring. May I enter?”
Happy to have an excuse to end his task, Acreas set down his feather and answered, “Do come in, Boshring.”
In walked a man who was still imposing, but did not cut the broad lines of his muscular leader. “Commander, I have news for you.”
“We are alone, Boshring. There is no need for titles. What news brings you here with such zeal, My Friend?”
“Firstly, I have had all the Imperial Guard Captains recalled to the capital and given time consuming duties as per your instructions. I have also moved as many guards into the city as the barracks can hold. The remainder are camped outside the city. I told the men there might be a threat to the Emperor and that was why they were here. In all, nearly 90 percent of the Guard is in and around the city.”
“Excellent,” Acreas said as he sat back. “You are sure the other captains will follow me if the emperor dies?”
Boshring nodded, “They are with you so long as you do not betray your oath and kill your father yourself. They would see that as a lack of worthiness on your part.”
Acreas took to his feet and swept the papers from his desk in a violent stroke. Then he drew his sword and watched it as the light danced across the blade. “My Father. If he would only admit to being that, this coup would not be necessary. He thinks he is so smart by denying my birthright and keeping me here to watch over. The only ones more incompetent than him, are his spies. Oh what I would give to be the one to ram this steel through his heart. Alas, that is not to be. Is there any word on Grithinshield yet?”
“That is the other part of my news, Acreas. The frost is nearly upon us and still there is no sign of Grithinshield. For this plan to work, we need him to kill your father. The Emperor is angered by the long delay and has sent for Anvar Greenlith to see him in his courtroom. I thought you would want to know.”
Acreas looked sharply at Boshring and replaced his sword in its scabbard. “I must be the one to take Greenlith there. It is my only chance to question him. Has anyone else been dispatched to get him?”
“A squad of goblins was sent, but you still have time to intercept them.”
September 27, 2016
Tuesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"
The firelight brought the monsters plainly into view. They were long and not at all lean. Their bodies were thick and muscular with powerful limbs to attack and low centers of gravity to maintain balance in any encounter. Linvin’s memory had been correct, but had not done justice to the horror of their 180 degree double line of teeth. They glistened in the light and looked impossible to fit together considering the serrated row in the front.
Their fur was a combination of black and grey with a narrow mane of hair running from the tops of their heads down their spines. The oily nature of their skin made the fur mat down and clump in odd places where presumably another Trogo had nipped the other for some reason. Two Trogos climbed onto the wagon and produced claws the size of Linvin’s hand to begin shredding the wooden door to the barn.
They were a ghastly sight to Linvin who felt fear creeping into his stomach and tying his innards in knots. Then the bloodthirsty essence of Falconfeather poured like a waterfall into his being, erasing all doubt and replacing it with a wanton urge to slaughter every Trogoandras in sight. He felt self-assured and ready to fight.
The general in Linvin took center stage as he viewed the scene and quickly devised a strategy. He grinned as he thought about it and looked closely at his landing spot.
I love the plan, Master. Just remember your footing and to protect your feet. These things are close to the ground and love to attack low. And do not worry about putting enough force behind your blows. Between your strength and my might the most delicate slash will cause a most fatal effect.
Linvin had not moved his eyes. There are too many Trogos standing there with nothing to do. Wait for it. As if on cue the alpha let out a growling howl and two wolves ran around each side of the barn toward the northern entrance. Once they were well gone, Linvin smiled and the image of white flames appeared on Falconfeather. Old Friend, it is time to slaughter this scum.
Linvin leapt off the roof and headed for the edge of the wagon closest to the fire. The two Trogos on the wagon were on their hind legs scratching with their front claws. As Linvin descended he stabbed Falconfeather into the side of the nearest Trogo right behind the neck and let his momentum slice deep into the creature all the way to its hindquarters. Linvin landed on the edge of the wagon and pulled his sword back from the barn. The dying beast fell upon his comrades who were stunned by the turn of events. Clinging to the element of surprise, Linvin stabbed completely through the mid-section of the other Trogo on the wagon. Again he discarded the carcass on the crowd below.
By that point the other Trogoandras were enraged and urged on by the alpha. They jumped at Linvin’s feet and attempted to pull him down into the mass of wolves. Linvin slashed at them as they made their modest jumps, but knew his time on the wagon was short lived. His plan was to jump to the clear zone between the barn and the fire and make his stand there. As he prepared to jump, a Trogo leaning on the wagon reached up and wrapped its teeth around Linvin’s left calf.
Stab it in the chest. Stab it in the chest, Falconfeather quickly called. Linvin did as ordered and the Trogo released its grip as it was mortally wounded in the heart and fell back.
Wasting no time, Linvin jumped to the open spot by the fire. A Trogo immediately attacked him. Linvin fended him off with his shield and used the beast’s momentum to raise it up. The action exposed the belly of the beast and Linvin did not think twice about slashing deep into its underbelly and dropping it for good. Another Trogo was right there to take its place as the fighting continued.
It’s only a matter of time until they come ‘round the fire and attack from two sides, Falconfeather warned.
I expect as much, Linvin thought between attacks. Even so, with every kill the odds swing more in our favor, Old Friend.
Their fur was a combination of black and grey with a narrow mane of hair running from the tops of their heads down their spines. The oily nature of their skin made the fur mat down and clump in odd places where presumably another Trogo had nipped the other for some reason. Two Trogos climbed onto the wagon and produced claws the size of Linvin’s hand to begin shredding the wooden door to the barn.
They were a ghastly sight to Linvin who felt fear creeping into his stomach and tying his innards in knots. Then the bloodthirsty essence of Falconfeather poured like a waterfall into his being, erasing all doubt and replacing it with a wanton urge to slaughter every Trogoandras in sight. He felt self-assured and ready to fight.
The general in Linvin took center stage as he viewed the scene and quickly devised a strategy. He grinned as he thought about it and looked closely at his landing spot.
I love the plan, Master. Just remember your footing and to protect your feet. These things are close to the ground and love to attack low. And do not worry about putting enough force behind your blows. Between your strength and my might the most delicate slash will cause a most fatal effect.
Linvin had not moved his eyes. There are too many Trogos standing there with nothing to do. Wait for it. As if on cue the alpha let out a growling howl and two wolves ran around each side of the barn toward the northern entrance. Once they were well gone, Linvin smiled and the image of white flames appeared on Falconfeather. Old Friend, it is time to slaughter this scum.
Linvin leapt off the roof and headed for the edge of the wagon closest to the fire. The two Trogos on the wagon were on their hind legs scratching with their front claws. As Linvin descended he stabbed Falconfeather into the side of the nearest Trogo right behind the neck and let his momentum slice deep into the creature all the way to its hindquarters. Linvin landed on the edge of the wagon and pulled his sword back from the barn. The dying beast fell upon his comrades who were stunned by the turn of events. Clinging to the element of surprise, Linvin stabbed completely through the mid-section of the other Trogo on the wagon. Again he discarded the carcass on the crowd below.
By that point the other Trogoandras were enraged and urged on by the alpha. They jumped at Linvin’s feet and attempted to pull him down into the mass of wolves. Linvin slashed at them as they made their modest jumps, but knew his time on the wagon was short lived. His plan was to jump to the clear zone between the barn and the fire and make his stand there. As he prepared to jump, a Trogo leaning on the wagon reached up and wrapped its teeth around Linvin’s left calf.
Stab it in the chest. Stab it in the chest, Falconfeather quickly called. Linvin did as ordered and the Trogo released its grip as it was mortally wounded in the heart and fell back.
Wasting no time, Linvin jumped to the open spot by the fire. A Trogo immediately attacked him. Linvin fended him off with his shield and used the beast’s momentum to raise it up. The action exposed the belly of the beast and Linvin did not think twice about slashing deep into its underbelly and dropping it for good. Another Trogo was right there to take its place as the fighting continued.
It’s only a matter of time until they come ‘round the fire and attack from two sides, Falconfeather warned.
I expect as much, Linvin thought between attacks. Even so, with every kill the odds swing more in our favor, Old Friend.
September 23, 2016
Guest Appearance
Marie Lavender was kind enough to host me on her blog “Writing in the Modern Age” There is a character interview, an author interview and an excerpt from the new book, “Repercussions Abound.” Here is the link to the blog: http://marielavender.blogspot.com/201... Enjoy the read!
September 21, 2016
1st Excerpt, "Repercussions"
Today I bring you the first excerpt from “Repercussions Abound.” Enjoy.
“Is that because you know me so well? You love a man you think you know. Every day I learn more and more about who I really am and something here just feels off to me. It is as though there is a huge piece of me missing. No. Actually, it is like there are two pieces of me missing. Tell me, you saw me fight the first group of bandits. Was there anything of note about me?”
Corilon thought back to that terrifying day and remembered Argentoe cutting a dashing figure as he chopped down one bandit after another with the aid of a glowing sword with white flames running the length of the blade. He was outnumbered and in full control. She realized she loved him from that moment onward.
“So was there anything you can think of to help me?” Argentoe repeated.
Corilon pulled the blanket to her chin and answered quietly, “You were a great warrior. The number of opponents left you unfazed. There was not much to tell, really.”
She rolled away and showed him her back as she hid tears forming in her eyes. Corilon knew there was a high probability Argentoe’s memory might come back if he were given his sack of possessions. She knew it was the right thing to do. It might even save his life. Yet Corilon wept in silence and did not move. She could not bring herself to take the chance of losing her husband.
Argentoe was preoccupied trying to determine how he knew so much about their enemy and yet nothing about how he came upon the information. He held the sword straight out in front of him and looked down the blade again.
“Take this sword. It is straight and was hammered out by a weapon smith with considerable skill. The blade is tapered perfectly and was sharpened by someone with knowledge of such craft. The handle is weighted right for thrusting and pummeling. In battle you can switch from one attack to another without moving your grip. The pommel is rounded out nicely for sudden blows to the skull.”
He stabilized it on his finger and watched as the sword never dipped. “It is perfectly balanced and is made of a fine steel alloy only a talented craftsman could forge. This is an excellent blade and anyone carrying it into battle should be proud to have it by their side.”
Argentoe tossed it to the corner of the room like a piece of refuse. “I know this much. It is not my sword. This is going to sound strange, but my sword is somehow…alive. I realize that makes no sense, but it is like an old friend or companion whom I trust with my life and has saved me countless times. It is that friend I need now, in my head, in my hand, waiting to jump into the abyss. Where did it and all my other things go? I cannot remember seeing them since I was lying in the wagon so long ago.”
Corilon could not think of a clever way to avoid the question so she outright lied. “I have not seen any of your things. It has been so long now they could have been lost or accidentally buried with the bandit bodies along the way. The matter is of little consequence. Those items didn’t spark any memories before. There is no reason to think they would now.”
“You may be right,” Argentoe said with disappointment. “But I know my sword would have cleared up some of my thoughts or at least given me a better chance in the coming battle.” Corilon was silent and simply nodded.
“When all my plans are said and done, you and I know this fight will be as your father said. It will come down to me against them. I can plan and scheme, but no one is going to sacrifice themselves to help me in this battle. And that is exactly what this would be, a sacrifice. One Trogoandras can kill every one of you. A pack of ten or twelve would devastate the farm.
“Is that because you know me so well? You love a man you think you know. Every day I learn more and more about who I really am and something here just feels off to me. It is as though there is a huge piece of me missing. No. Actually, it is like there are two pieces of me missing. Tell me, you saw me fight the first group of bandits. Was there anything of note about me?”
Corilon thought back to that terrifying day and remembered Argentoe cutting a dashing figure as he chopped down one bandit after another with the aid of a glowing sword with white flames running the length of the blade. He was outnumbered and in full control. She realized she loved him from that moment onward.
“So was there anything you can think of to help me?” Argentoe repeated.
Corilon pulled the blanket to her chin and answered quietly, “You were a great warrior. The number of opponents left you unfazed. There was not much to tell, really.”
She rolled away and showed him her back as she hid tears forming in her eyes. Corilon knew there was a high probability Argentoe’s memory might come back if he were given his sack of possessions. She knew it was the right thing to do. It might even save his life. Yet Corilon wept in silence and did not move. She could not bring herself to take the chance of losing her husband.
Argentoe was preoccupied trying to determine how he knew so much about their enemy and yet nothing about how he came upon the information. He held the sword straight out in front of him and looked down the blade again.
“Take this sword. It is straight and was hammered out by a weapon smith with considerable skill. The blade is tapered perfectly and was sharpened by someone with knowledge of such craft. The handle is weighted right for thrusting and pummeling. In battle you can switch from one attack to another without moving your grip. The pommel is rounded out nicely for sudden blows to the skull.”
He stabilized it on his finger and watched as the sword never dipped. “It is perfectly balanced and is made of a fine steel alloy only a talented craftsman could forge. This is an excellent blade and anyone carrying it into battle should be proud to have it by their side.”
Argentoe tossed it to the corner of the room like a piece of refuse. “I know this much. It is not my sword. This is going to sound strange, but my sword is somehow…alive. I realize that makes no sense, but it is like an old friend or companion whom I trust with my life and has saved me countless times. It is that friend I need now, in my head, in my hand, waiting to jump into the abyss. Where did it and all my other things go? I cannot remember seeing them since I was lying in the wagon so long ago.”
Corilon could not think of a clever way to avoid the question so she outright lied. “I have not seen any of your things. It has been so long now they could have been lost or accidentally buried with the bandit bodies along the way. The matter is of little consequence. Those items didn’t spark any memories before. There is no reason to think they would now.”
“You may be right,” Argentoe said with disappointment. “But I know my sword would have cleared up some of my thoughts or at least given me a better chance in the coming battle.” Corilon was silent and simply nodded.
“When all my plans are said and done, you and I know this fight will be as your father said. It will come down to me against them. I can plan and scheme, but no one is going to sacrifice themselves to help me in this battle. And that is exactly what this would be, a sacrifice. One Trogoandras can kill every one of you. A pack of ten or twelve would devastate the farm.
September 20, 2016
Book 4 Is Out!
There is that momentous occasion in a writer’s life when they publish their first book. It’s an amazing feeling to say you are a published author. You would think that feeling would diminish when you publish your second book but it doesn’t. Now you are in that relatively small group who can say they’re multi-published authors. Then a third book comes out and your fraternity of authors becomes smaller still. Now I am pleased to announce the release of my fourth book, “Repercussions Abound.” It is available on Kindle at http://amzn.to/2cGyNmy and on paperback at http://amzn.to/2deaOGW. This book answers a lot of questions and as the title suggests, has some negative outcomes for nearly every character. See what happens to each character and how they deal with their reversal of fortunes. Enjoy the book!
