M.E. Vaughan's Blog, page 6

Another Sneak-Peak Photo from the Filming of the SoT Trailer!

The Sons of Thestian Trailer – Sneak-peak!

A sneak-peak screen-shot for The Sons of Thestian book trailer which will be out later this month. I’ll be posting a few more pictures throughout the next couple of weeks.

Emeric & The Thief

“Notameer, blind me!” Emeric cursed sharply, sitting up from the rubble. His chemise sleeve and the right side of his front were stained in blood, but a quick examination showed that it wasn’t his own. Far above, at the top of the quarry, he saw Arlen Zachary peer over the side.

“And you both alright!?” Their Captain shouted down, and Emeric glanced across to Marcel Hathely a few strides from him. His master was sat amidst the rocks, shoulder-length blond hair askew and mattered with dust, but aside from looking disgruntled, there seemed to be no obvious damage. Knowing that Marcel wouldn’t shout unless forced to, Emeric cupped his mouth and called back up.

“We’re fine!” He assured Zachary.

“Stay where you are!” Zachary instructed, “I will find a way to get you out.” He disappeared from over the edge and Emeric picked himself up, brushing away the dust. Beside him, he could see an arm sticking out from beneath the rubble, and he waved his hand in-front of him, trying to clear the dust that hung in the air.

“Are you hurt?” Marcel’s voice was gruffer than usual. He had risen and was moving cautiously over to Emeric who shook his head, surveying the damage around them. Marcel reached his side and cast his eyes up and down Emeric’s body before giving a satisfactory nod. Emeric noticed the almost invisible limp his master had adopted and glanced down to his leg. “Twisted in the fall.” Marcel explained before Emeric could ask, “Its fine.”

“It will make climbing back up harder.”

“Zachary will find a way out.” Marcel’s voice did not change – he had a monotonous tone by nature – but there was a confidence present, none the less.

“If you say so…” Emeric sat back down, feeling strangely light-headed. They had not been anticipating the attack. The thieves had not matched them in skill, but had been great in number and possessed the element of surprise. Emeric had misjudged one of his attacks, causing the unstable stone at the edge of the quarry to crumble until, with a sudden crash, the whole line of rock had collapsed beneath their feet, taking Marcel and Emeric down with it. Of course, the fall which should have killed them, had been stabilised by Marcel’s magic. He had thrown a blast of air beneath them as they descended, so that the high concentration of wind would slow their descent. Emeric would have to thank Rufus when they returned home; it was his technique after all and without it they would surely be dead.

“You know, when I decided to be a magi, this is not what I had in mind for myself.” Emeric huffed, glancing again to the visible arm sticking up from the rocks.

“Liar.” Marcel said plainly, and settled down beside his apprentice, taking his pipe out from where he always kept his handy. He filled it lazily and lit it with a flick of his fingers. Emeric still found it bizarre the ease in which some of the Magi could control the capricious element. Zachary was also good at wielding fire, but then by far the best of them was Rufus. Emeric felt a novice in comparison, though he and Rufus were the same age.

“Cousin-” He began and then corrected himself, Marcel exhaling hard. “Sorry, force of habit…Hathely-”

“-There is no one else here.” Marcel said pointedly. “Fold.” He added and Emeric gave a wry smile. His surname still sounded strange coming from Marcel, but it was a Magi habit to adopt this semi-formal way of address, one that Emeric struggled with.

“Marcel…” Emeric said, almost timidly and Marcel gave him a brief and very rare smile. Emeric’s heart lifted at the sight, and Marcel passed the pipe across to him. Emeric took a drag, breathing out and watching the smoke curl in front of him, mingled with the dust. He coughed and passed the pipe back. “Do you think there any of those thieves escaped?”

Marcel shook his head, blowing a smoke ring. Zachary would no doubt take care of any stragglers; he was the most capable amongst them.

A low groan suddenly rose from the dust and Emeric peered around, tilting his head. “Did you hear that?” he asked. Marcel stiffened, the pair of them holding their breath. Again, came a long moan and Emeric rose to his feet and began forward, following the sound. Marcel followed him in silence.

Reaching down, Emeric found the source, brushing away tiny stones as one of the thieves looked up at him, one

side of his face mattered with blood, legs trapped beneath a pile of rock. He blinked blearily up to Emeric who squatted beside him.

“He’s still alive.” Emeric noted and the thief gave a soft whine, coughing. It was obvious he was in great pain.

“Kill him.” Marcel suggested, but Emeric took out his water-pouch instead and offered some to the man. The thief eyed him sceptically, and then allowed Emeric to tip the water slowly into his mouth. He drank greedily and gave a sigh of relief as he finished, his eyes closed.

“Can you move?” Emeric asked and the thief looked down to where his legs were trapped.

“Free me,” he said huskily, “and I’ll show you the way out of this quarry.”

Emeric glanced over to Marcel who shook his head. Emeric frowned, “We can’t leave him.”

“I can.”

“Marcel…” Emeric pleaded.

His master gave a grunt and gestured for Emeric to do as he wished. Emeric looked down to the rocks which had trapped the thief’s legs and calculated their weight. The last thing he needed was to create a support that was too weak and would collapse the rocks back onto him.

“Stay still.” Emeric instructed the thief and carefully he concentrated on the ground. He had always had a good grasp of the manipulation of rock, as was to be expected by a boy born under an Earth star. Carefully he focused, extending his will to the earth beneath and made it rise slowly into a wedge either side of the thief’s legs. Gently it relieved the pressure and lifted off the rock and the thief wriggled free, gasping in relief. Emeric extended out a hand to help him up.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and the next thing he knew the thief had a knife on him and had turned him around, blade caressing his throat. Marcel flinched, but didn’t move otherwise, his amber eyes burning as he watched the thief pull Emeric back.

“You and your friend,” the thief said, “that other magi – you are going to leave me alone. I’ll be taking this one with me until I am far away. If no one attacks, I let him go free.”

“I told you should have killed him.” Marcel flicked his eyes to Emeric, who had his head tilted back, trying to put some distance between himself and the knife which was almost kissing his throbbing jugular.

“I like to see the best in people,” Emeric explained, “even if it’s only a fleeting potential.”

“It will get you killed.” Marcel sat down with a grunt and the thief began to edge back, Emeric still in his grasp.

“Enough talking. You are coming with me.” The thief tried to grasp control of the situation again, the tense air seeming to dissipate.

“You know, I was raised in Helena’s fortress on the Harmatian boarder into Kathra.” Emeric sighed as he was slowly dragged back. “I saw a lot of banditry there, met quite a few thieves like yourself.”

“Shut up, or I’ll slit your throat.”

“If you let go now, I will let you walk away, I promise.” Emeric offered, but the thief just raised the knife higher and Emeric hissed as it nicked his skin. The man had every intention of killing him, that much was obvious. Emeric sighed again.

“I just want to see the best in people…” he repeated sadly, twitching his fingers forward in summons. Behind the earth shifted, and the silence was broken by an unruly squelch. The thief stopped sharply, growing taut. Emeric slid his hand up to the knife and pushed it delicately away from his throat, stepping out of the man’s loosened grip and turning around. The thief stared, wide eyed and confused and then look down to his unblemished stomach. He spluttered, a mouthful of blood dribbling down from his chin. Slowly and shakily he looked behind him to the spear of earth which was thrust out of the ground at a forty-five degree angle, pushing up through his spine into his stomach. He gurgled, more blood spilling out of his mouth as Emeric leant forward and pushed him firmly back further onto the spike, the end splitting open his belly and protruding out.

“I don’t like to kill,” Emeric informed the thief who grew limp in death, “but when I do, I am not fastidious about it.”

Turning he rejoined Marcel, taking back his previous perch beside his master and accepting the offer of Marcel’s pipe. He drew in a long breath and let the smoke curl from his nose.

“He could have lived…” Emeric noted, almost sadly as a voice suddenly carried out from further down the quarry. The caught sight of Zachary striding toward them, his hand cupped over his eyes to see through the glare of the sun. He waved to them. “Oh, you were right. He found us a way out.”

Marcel gave Emeric a knowing look and stood as their Captain re-joined them, casting a quick eye over the newly dead thief.

“Trouble?” Zachary asked casually.

“Only the tragedy of human nature.” Emeric replied lightly and Marcel grunted a faint laugh. Zachary pointed back toward where he’d come.

“Oh, well if that’s all then,” he gestured, “shall we be on our way, gentlemen?”

The three magi set off, Emeric leaving a faint trail of bloodied footsteps across the rocky terrain.

-

Thank you for reading. This is one of a series of HarmatiaShorts promoting my upcoming book The Sons of Thestian being published this November. The stories are designed to give slices of life, introducing setting and characters.

For more on the books, check out the book website at http://www.harmatiacycle.com

If you enjoyed this story, please like, share or leave a comment, and look out for the next one which will be published soon under the hashtag #HarmatiaShorts

Also read:

Rufus & The Gate

Rufus & The Gate

“Is that him?”

“It can’t be – he’s so young!”

“And scrawny.”

“Lord Odin certainly has a sense of humour.”

Rufus ignored the whispering in the crowd around him and stalked beside Arlen Zachary, his brothering apprentice chaperoning him through the crowd.

“You’re attracting quite the audience.” Zachary murmured beneath his breath, his voice light with mischief. Rufus rolled his eyes, glancing around the crowd who were pointing and gawking at him.

“Am I such a spectacle?” he asked wearily, shading his eyes from the blaring sun above. The cooler morning sky had ripened into the fullness of day, and the afternoon heat beat down almost unbearably onto the yellow-stoned city.

“The youngest Magi in history, first low-born and the only man to have ever been apprenticed without formal training…My, sweet, sweet little brother – of course you are a spectacle.” Zachary snapped out his arm and drew Rufus in as they passed through a narrow part of the street. They were easily recognisable through the throng of people in their distinctive black robes and Magi uniforms, not to the mention the sashes they wore which identified them as the apprentices of Lord Belphegore Odin, the King’s first General and Leader of the Magi. Zachary pushed Rufus ahead of him protectively and Rufus stumbled on the cobbles, almost falling flat. He heard Zachary snigger behind him.

“Pick up your feet, Merle – you’d have thought with legs that long it wouldn’t be such a problem.”

“You shoved me.”

“Oh, I am sorry.” Zachary slung a casual arm about his shoulder as they emerged into the next street, where even more people were gathered. Everybody seemed to want to get a look at Belphegore’s new apprentice. Rufus was almost sick of it. “So, you know what this is, I trust?” Zachary interrupted.

Rufus thought on that question. Earlier in the day, he had been attending to his new duties when a message had come for him from the engineers down at the wall. The Eastern Gate had been growing stiffer and stiffer and now would not open for love of money. They had asked for his specific assistance in fixing the antiquated mechanisms once and for all.

“A test.” Rufus finally decided.

“Oh, he is quick.” Zachary congratulated, the people ahead of them parting as the older magi cast his eyes over them. Zachary was a frightening sort, with his severe brow and even severer skills. As the Leader of the Magi’s first apprentice, Zachary had made quite a reputation for himself and was rapidly being acknowledged as one of the finest and most dangerous warriors in Harmatia. However below the naturally frightening cut of his face, Rufus was quickly discovering that Zachary was more playful than menacing, though he did a good job of being both.

“Did they test you?” Rufus asked. He knew he was an unobvious choice of apprentice, for the leader of the Magi no less, but by all accounts so had Zachary been initially. “Try to measure your worth?”

“Every day, Merle – but you will be the worse off, at least for a few years. There is only so many times a man can raise his sword against me before growing weary…But with a mind likes yours…” Zachary whistled and then swore loudly to a group up ahead, shooing them away impatiently. Rufus felt like a swaddled child being taken outside for the first time.

“Today isn’t about the gate, Merle.” Zachary continued as they moved on, “they want to look at you, see if you’re as clever as people say.”

“Well what do I do, if not fix the gate?”

“Just make sure they know that Master Odin wasn’t completely drunk when he apprenticed you. Show off a little, prove your brilliance.”

“By fixing the gate?”

“Forget the damn gate, Merle!” Zachary rolled his eyes, “The stupid thing can’t be fixed.”

“Anything can be fixed.” Rufus replied stubbornly to himself.

They continued on until they finally came upon the wall, more of a crowd gathered. Rufus looked up at the gate and shook his head. It was a truly archaic piece of architecture, and the miracle that it had functioned even rarely up to that moment was only shadowed by the fact that it was still standing.

“They should just tear it down,” Zachary agreed to his wordless thought, “They’ve been saying they will for years, but they want to keep the gates themselves and no one can find a mechanism design which will work with it. Three times now they’ve merely copied the old skeleton and replaced the parts. It doesn’t take long for it to cease functioning again.”

“What do they expect,” Rufus thought aloud, “if we do not strive to constantly improve, everything will cease.”

“Which book did you read that in?”

“That is the wisdom of common sense.”

“I know many traditionalists who would disagree.”

“That is because improvement threatens their comfort. With a name like Zachary, you should understand that.”

 

Zachary shortened his stride, “What are you implying?” He asked, but he sounded more curious than affronted.

 

“You’re not old blood. Otherwise I’d have heard it, or there would be a ‘Du’ or a ‘of the’ in your title somewhere…”

“I have two parents, Merle. Last I checked.”

“And children take the title of the greater family.”

Zachary gave a lopsided shrug. “Maybe the parent of the greater family doesn’t love me very much.”

“That would explain a great deal.” Rufus bowed as one of the engineers approached, his eyes already scrutinising Rufus’ long, lean form.

“Lord Lucas.” Zachary greeted.

“Lord Zachary.” Lucas replied, his eyes still expectantly on Rufus. “So you’re the famous Rufus Merle. You’re taller than I expected,” he informed, “And younger too.”

“He has the face of a child.” Zachary assured, lightly, “But he is seventeen.”

“Can he not speak for himself?” The engineer asked. Rufus stared openly back, his body stiffening. A nervousness began to trickle through him, and not for the first time he began to feel fraudulent. As if, at any moment, someone would realise he didn’t belong in that uniform. That he was too young to be a Magi, and worse that he was not of the correct class.

And then he looked past Lucas, where the wall had been opened to the mechanisms concealed within, and his mind grew peaceful with a familiar noise of thought.

He understood why they had decided to recreate the same structure over the years, it was a truly monstrously complex piece of work, and as he looked over it he could see the pulleys and ropes and weights that operated a gate that would otherwise be far too heavy to lift.

“Ah, we’ve lost him.” Zachary noted distantly, as Rufus pushed passed the pair of them toward the open wall, his eyes darting along each connection, as he watched the gate functioning in his mind’s eye. Yes, he could see how the parts would work, could see each moving piece and he gave a short snort, shaking his head.

“You have quite a task on your hands.” He said aloud to Lucas, who had followed him, Zachary skulking behind, arms folded like a proud parent watching his child at work.

“This gate was built with the wall. It is as much a part of it as each stone – every piece we do threatens the integrity of its function and history. But unless we can get it working, it will become nothing but an antiquated relic.” Lucas agreed.

“The gears are too small and too few. The weight puts too much strain on them.” Rufus gestured toward a table where plans of the gate had been laid out, “May I?”

“Oh, does the new apprentice of Lord Odin think he has an answer to our century long problem?” Lucas goaded.

“I would like to look at the mechanisms in their entirety.” was all Rufus said and pushed on uninvited to the table. Lucas stalking behind him as Rufus sat, taking out a pencil and looking over the sketches thoughtfully. Around, an audience had once again gathered, and Rufus pushed the sound of their chatter and curiosity from his mind. Instead he looked over the sketches intently, watching them move behind his eyes as he followed the path of motion. It was wondrous, a beautiful theory, a truly excellent piece of engineering which seemed to echo the movement of the human body. Yes, Rufus could see the ligaments, the rolling bone, but it was so large, so heavy…It was no wonder that over time, the gears stopped, the chains snapped and the gate ceased again to move.

Rufus turned over the plans to the blank side and traced his pencil over the empty page thoughtfully, looking up at what he could see of the wall. Lucas laughed.

“So even the great mind of Belphegore’s new apprentice is threatened by our conundrum?”

“He doesn’t exactly have the training of an engineer.” Zachary reminded.

“Oh, and what is he going to pursue then? Certainly not the path of a warrior.”

“I think that unlikely,” Zachary agreed, and Rufus could feel him close behind the chair, blocking him from the view of the vultures. “He is a theorist, though he has displayed an interest in healing.”

“Many people display an interest…” Lucas snubbed dismissively and Rufus put his pencil down and stood suddenly, the chair scrapping as he picked up the sketch and held it out for Lucas.

“Done.” He announced.

“It’s barely been a minute.” Lucas snorted and then grew quiet as he scanned Rufus’ proposition, his eyes growing serious.

“You have been approaching this gate as if it were an old piece of technology. It is the opposite.” Rufus explained, “The concept was far beyond it’s time, but it lacked our current understanding of mathematics. I understand you are limited for space, but I think you will find that with these small changes,” he brushed a hand over the adjustments he had suggested, “you will find the gate will function for much longer without the same wear. You may even find it functions better.” He handed the proposition over to Lucas. “You thought it needed to be kept exactly the same, or changed entirely. You were wrong on both accounts. All it required was that you look at it through the architects’ eyes and saw his vision. Zachary,” he turned to his brother who was beaming, “It is growing late. Lord Odin will expect us back.”

“Yes, he will.” Zachary agreed, “Lord Lucas, a pleasure as always. I hope you’ll find my little brother’s insights to be…helpful.”

Lucas didn’t respond, his eyes still on the sketch, mouth parted in a horrified and yet inspired way. Rufus did not wait for him to return from his stupor, but turning, starting back up toward the palace, Zachary once more in his wake.

“Did you really figured it out?” he asked in a soft whisper as they walked.

“Yes.” Rufus was confused by the question, “I wouldn’t suggest changes if I didn’t think they would work.”

“You know,” Zachary laughed, his lip caught almost excitedly in his teeth, “With a brain like that, you are going to make a great deal of enemies, my friend.”

“Does that include you?” Rufus asked worriedly, for he could feel the pride emulating from Zachary, but also something else. Something darker.

“Oh, I am and will no doubt become even more wildly jealous over time,” Zachary informed truthfully, but put a reassuring hand on Rufus’ shoulder. “But I will never be your enemy.” he promised. “You are my brother after all.”

Rufus was comforted. “I hope so,” he bowed his head thankfully, “I would not like you as an enemy.”

 

-

Thank you for reading. This is one of a series of HarmatiaShorts promoting my upcoming book The Sons of Thestian being published this November. The stories are designed to give slices of life, introducing setting and characters. 

For more on the books, check out the book website at http://www.harmatiacycle.com

If you enjoyed this story, please like, share or leave a comment, and look out for the next one which will be published soon under the hashtag #HarmatiaShorts

The Sons of Thestian - Coming Soon

The Sons of Thestian, book one of The Harmatia Cycle is being released in the US and on Kindle world-wide this November. Having just seen the final front-cover design I am very excited to be moving into the last stage of the publishing process. By next month the front cover will be revealed, and I will be publishing (on here & at www.madeleinevaughan.com) a series of short-stories set in the Harmatia Cycle universe, in order to give readers a taste of the characters and a small slice of the world they live in. These will be filed under the tag #HarmatiaShorts.

I will also soon be releasing a book trailer, which will be available here, on tumblr, twitter, facebook and youtube.

To find out more check out my website at www.harmatiacycle.com

The Sons of Thestian, book one of The Harmatia Cycle i...

 

The Sons of Thestian, book one of The Harmatia Cycle is being released in the US and on Kindle world-wide this November. Having just seen the final front-cover design I am very excited to be moving into the last stage of the publishing process. By next month the front cover will be revealed, and I will be publishing (on here) a series of short-stories set in the Harmatia Cycle universe, in order to give readers a taste of the characters and a small slice of the world they live in. These will be filed under the tag #HarmatiaShorts.

I will also soon be releasing a book trailer, which will be available here, on tumblr, twitter, facebook and youtube.

To find out more about The Harmatia Cycle and The Sons of Thestian, check out my website at www.harmatiacycle.com

 

 

 

 

Character Introduction: Fae of the Neve

One of the main characters in my upcoming trilogy The Harmatia Cycle, Fae is a Cat Sidhe, a mercenary faerie from the Neve. The only daughter remaining of many brothers, Fae is a formidable fighter with excellent skills in combat and strategy. Her speed and strength are three times that of a human, and she can also transform into a humongous winged cat at will.

Durable, fiercely loyal and somewhat judgmental, Fae also loves to dance and has a very wicked sense of humour.

For more about The Harmatia Cycle, check out my website at http://www.harmatiacycle.com

Artwork © Madeleine Vaughan

Character Introduction: Rufus Merle

The main character in my upcoming trilogy The Harmatia Cycle, Rufus is a mathematical and magical genius. Low-born, but with a thirst for knowledge, he broke into the Royal archives (-forbidden to all by the King’s Magi) at fifteen in order to pursue his love of learning. When he was discovered there, after almost two years of secret studying, the Magi were so impressed by his wealth of understanding and ability, that rather than imprison him, they welcomed him into their ranks…

At seventeen he was the youngest, and first low-born Magi to have ever been apprenticed in Harmatia.

For more about The Harmatia Cycle, check out my website at http://www.harmatiacycle.com

Artwork © Madeleine Vaughan

For Whom the Bell Tolls – A Book Review

Now, I am usually first inline when it comes to writing scathing book reviews. I have very little patience for novels that don’t keep up a certain pace, or possess an interesting narrative voice. Which is why when it comes to actually writing book reviews, I either do it to release the pent-up anger at wasting my time on drivel, or because I have enjoyed a piece of fiction so much that I feel it merits recognition.

They say never judge a book by it’s cover, but that is exactly what we all do and that’s exactly how publishers’ sell the merchandise. So looking at the cover of For Whom the Bell Tolls, it stands to reason that I might be somewhat dubious of the content. (Not it’s quality mind, but it’s intended audience.) Initially the typography is certainly attractive and reminiscent of the content, though the catch-phrase didn’t inspire me immediately. Added with ‘generic’ hooded figure, and you think you have a basic idea of where this story is going to go. (Eg – follow some whiney teenage vampire through the ages as he struggles with the darkness within him, and the potential to do good.)

Wrong. So very, very wrong. For Whom The Bell Tolls is a precise, masterful and engaging piece of work. A thrilling page-turner with very real characters, this is an age-old tale told like you’ve never heard it before!

The new craze of ‘teenage vampire angst’ had made me so fearful of ever picking up a book with the ‘vampire’ concept ever again that when I started ‘The Dracula Chronicles’, I did so tremulously. Within the first two paragraphs I knew that I had picked up something that was so beyond my expectation, I struggled to put it down.

There is no teenage angst here, only the ancient tale of the war between heaven and earth, personified in a unique, historical setting. For Whom The Bell Tolls draws on historical fact, mythology and religion all at once to create a masterful construction that will have you anxiously turning the page.

A dynamic, richly dimensional story, this book does not sacrifice pace for detail, with O’Neill effortlessly joining the two in a rich text. If I had one complaint, it would be the occasional modern word which appears in the description, but that it’s itself is a weak objection as it does nothing to the quality of the text and the engagement for the reader.

The story follows the tale of two men, Vlad and Andrei, half-brothers who will in turn become the champions of Good and Evil.  And yet, the story begins with them as young boys, privy to human emotions, petty sibling rivalry and childish stubbornness as slowly they become exposed to the cruel world around them and begin to exhibit wondrous powers.

This tale takes no sides and is as much an examination into the human condition, as it is an action-packed origin story of two brothers’ who will battle over the fate of all humankind.

 

This goes on Madeleine’s 5/5 Book-Shelf.

She Moved Thru the Fair

An, A Capella original arrangement of the traditional Celtic song.