Helen B. Henderson's Blog, page 23
October 25, 2022
Easier the Second Time Around? (Part 2) #mfrwhooks
Part 2 of the behind the scenes with the Dragshi Chronicles. The series chronicles the tales of the dragshi, beings who are more than just a man or woman, but two identities—one a dragon, the other a human. And like its characters, the romance-laden fantasy has a dual nature.
When I started writing, telling a good tale was sufficient. Nowadays, readers expect more--that characters change in some way, whether for the good or the bad. Ensuring the necessary depth of characters challenges me. And here is the other reason for the post’s title.Anastasia was a young girl in the short story. However, the second time around, to be the heroine in the novel I had to age her from a young woman to a vibrant adult to be a suitable love interest for Lord Branin. This presented a difficult task. The real Anastasia was still a child and that was how she lived in my mind. But, I knew if she was not presented well, her mother and grandmother (both of whom are several inches taller than me) might express their displeasure with a strategically placed size nine shoe. Of course, having to rise to the task took the work to a higher level.
Now that I’ve revealed some of the behind the scenes tales of Dragon Destiny, here’s a taste of the story itself. Oh yes, one last thing. Lord Branin and Llewlyn still soar the skies about Cloud Eyrie. Four more books have been transcribed from the Ceoltier Guild tales of the dragshi. The full series is listed at The Dragshi Chronicles page or each individual book by clicking on the title in the banner.
Excerpt:
“Sorry, mistress,” an excited servant called. The door slammed open from the force of his blow. “The lightning is almost upon us. Even though the winter squalls were explained to them, all the true horses are panicking, and most of the seidheirn yearlings. Of the seidheirn, only Marsainn and his sons retain control of their emotions. Even they can’t calm the others. The grooms need help. Every dragshi is summoned to the stable.”
“Branin, I will get Ranald and organize the others. You have a special talent with both the seidheirn and the horses. Go,” Eirwen ordered. “We don’t need that crazy stallion of yours doing something stupid. Help Marsainn control his kin. Now, go.”
Spurred on by the groom’s urgent look, Branin set down his cup, gave Eirwen a quick bow and sprinted from the room. Deafening cracks assaulted his ears before he covered more than ten paces. He had not realized how much the magic in the walls of Eirwen’s office had muted the sound of the weather’s fury.
Rolls of thunder drowned out his running footsteps. The farther he and the servant raced from Eirwen’s private refuge, the louder the lightning cracked. Considering the severity of a storm so early in the season, Branin feared the tempests still to come. Minutes later, the winded servant in tow, Branin reached the stairwell closest to the stable.
“So much for not getting wet,” he muttered. Even the short distance across the lawn meant a thorough soaking. “Stay here and close the door behind me.” He hid a smile at the servant’s hastily suppressed look of relief.
A mental count to three and Branin wrenched open the door. The raging wind forced him back a step. With a growl, he tucked his head against the stinging blasts and charged into the storm. Long strides carried him past the protective shelter of the wall. Water splashed with each step. Fighting the gusts, he finally reached the dark shape of the stable.
Half-blinded, he felt his way along the rough stone wall in search of the entrance until rain-slicked wood greeted his exploring fingers. Strong vibrations, as if a crazed animal threw itself against the door, rattled the planks.
* * *
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October 19, 2022
October 18, 2022
Easier the Second Time Around? (Part 1) #mfrwhooks
Behind the scenes with the Dragshi Chronicles. The series chronicles the tales of the dragshi, beings who are more than just a man or woman, but two identities—one a dragon, the other a human. And like its characters, the romance-laden fantasy has a dual nature.
The reason for the title of the post? The original short story that at one point was a lesson in a writing class took a second turn around. As is sometimes the case, the characters refused to leave and Lord Branin and the dragon soul Llewlyn clamored for attention. Since no one denies a dragon’s wishes (at least not more than once) I listened to their tales, capturing them as quickly as my fingers could scribe. Once I got over the excitement (or was it fear?) of dealing with a dragon, it was fun. Llewlyn even granted an interview or two.But that is not the only unique aspect of Dragon Destiny’s creation. The short story helped a recovering coma patient regain her ability to read. Then, several years later, the full-length novel served as a reward for the same person during their rehabilitation after knee replacement surgery. Each week after completing her physical therapy she was presented with the next chapter. That helped keep her enthusiasm up. The staff fussed over her because she was the only person there with a personalized novel.
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October 10, 2022
Hooked on Imprisoned in Stone, Damage #MFRWHooks
Excerpt:Quiet commands split the now-armed men into teams. Sketching a rough map in the sand, she issued orders for their search areas. With a dog leading each one, they headed out until only one man and one dog remained. “Sorry, ma’am, Arcil told me to go with you.”
The man’s size ruined any possibility of argument—at least without incurring injury. And she meant to use all her energy to do damage to the Brethren. Nodding for the sailor to follow her, Maerva turned and headed up the steep path to the high meadow. Something drew her to select that specific quadrant. Reaching the tall grass, she headed unerringly toward the tree line.
Bow strings twanged and a volley of arrows flew by. A leg swung hers out from beneath her. Maerva fell to the ground, tripped by the sailor behind her. Strings twanged a second time. The dog, who had raced ahead, yelped in pain. Low moans from the man next to her provided proof not all the hidden archers missed. Stones pricked Maerva’s hands and knees as she crawled through the tall grass to the man and dog. A quick exam of both proved that neither was seriously wounded, but neither would be any use in battle. Despite their objections, Maerva ordered them both to stay, and keeping as low as she could, ran on alone.
Within the trees, she slowed her pace. The farther in she went, the quieter the woods became, void of all the usual sounds of both bird and insect. A twig snapped behind her. Maerva spun, sword in hand.
~ * ~
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October 4, 2022
Hooked on Imprisoned in Stone, Surprise at the Cave #MFRWHooks
For the next several weeks, the posts have showcased magic of a darker kind. From Imprisoned in Stone, a snippit using the #Bookqw "good." To set the stage, last week the escape continued when Maerva met her brother. In the interim he sailed her and her friends to a deserted isle. Sanctuary is elusive as the Brethren have invaded the island. And her adopted child is missing.
Excerpt:
Maerva paced the beach, as if her activity could bring the men to shore faster. Small boats from both vessels ferried Darach and his kin, including Dris, now sporting his own throwing ax, to the shore. Soon the woodcutters stood amidst sailors, who though they bore the mark of blade or hook, all projected a fierce determination. Each man clutched a knife or whatever makeshift weapon he had. After a quiet farewell, Uisge headed back to his vessel. Sails bellied out in the stiff breeze and the Highland Maid headed out to sea. The Wayward Mist awaited a final signal from her captain before she would leave for a secluded hiding place with the children and women of Darach’s kin who could not fight.
Looking at those gathered around her, one thing was apparent, they needed more arms. Although she wanted to run to find Colwynn and Dylan, Maerva kept her pace to a fast walk—and headed to the skip jack cave rather than inland. The maw of the cave’s entrance appeared all too quickly. Arcil brushed past with a lit torch in his hands. Low growls stopped him in his tracks. Four large shapes separated from the shadows. Light glinted off fangs
“Arcil, wait,” Maerva called out. She stepped forward, her hands held outward. The shapes resolved into large dogs. The animals lapped at her hands, then sat at her quiet command. A gesture sent the men behind her to several boxes stacked above the high-water line. “Weapons are in there, help yourselves.” Although the dogs eyed the men balefully, they did not move. Kneeling, Maerva patted the dogs on the heads. “Why are you here, boys?”
One dog took Maerva’s hand in his mouth and guided her toward the tarp-covered boat. She lifted the canvas and peered underneath. Gramail slept peacefully under a scrap of canvas; her head cushioned on a dog. She woke up and held a finger to her lips
Reaching in, Maerva fought back tears and cradled the child.
“Daddy said it was time to play the shhhsh game.” The four-year-old smiled showing a missing front tooth. “Did I do good, Mommy?”
The trust in the child’s eyes eroded Maerva’s control even more. “Yes, little one you did good, very good. Would you like to visit Uncle Arcil’s boat?”
“Yes, Mommy,” Gramail chirped.
“Then, you shall.” Maerva waved Dris and Wayward Mist’s young deckhand forward. “You remember Jonus. And this is Dris, a special friend of mine. They will take you to the boat, but only if you promise to do what they tell you.”
“No.” Dris and Jonus echoed in unison. “We stay and fight.”
Maerva signaled Arcil to silence. She grew in stature, then retreated back into herself. Her expression softened. “Jonus, Wayward Mist is shorthanded. She needs you more than ever. And you are very good with the children.” A hand laid on Dris’ shoulder did nothing to remove his closed expression. “Dris, your axe is needed more on the Mist than on land. Others are here, but none can take your place there.”
Both youths’ downcast eyes argued their approval, albeit unwillingly. They nodded their compliance.
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September 27, 2022
Hooked on Imprisoned in Stone, Reunion #MFRWHooks
For the next several weeks, the posts will showcase magic of a darker kind. From Imprisoned in Stone, this scene follows the post, BookQW Eager. To set the stage, Maerva, Colwynn, and Dylan are on the run from the Brethren. And now the reunion between Maerva and her brother Arcil.
Excerpt:
Despite a need to see her brother, Maerva curbed an instinct to gallop to the tavern and kept Rascal to a slow walk. The few tradesmen and sailors in the streets ignored the small caravan. Shortly, music and the off-key singing of drunken sailors announced their destination.
“Mar!”
The familiar voice from the shadowed doorway ripped through the last of her restraints. She swung a leg over Rascal’s neck, and slid to the ground—right into her brother’s arms. “Oh, Arcil.” Tears she had restrained since Gareth’s death moistened her cheeks.
The energy that had sustained her fled and she didn’t resist when Arcil guided her toward the inn’s private courtyard. “Now, Maerva, tell me. What is wrong?”
The energy that had sustained her fled and she didn’t resist when Arcil guided her toward the inn’s private courtyard. “Now, Maerva, tell me. What is wrong?”
Several deep breaths restored her composure enough, she was able to speak. “The Brethren are after us. How soon can you be ready to sail?”
Arcil rubbed a hand over his short beard. The rasp sounded loud, even over the noise within the pub.
“The crew is on liberty. I’m not sure I could even find them all. Will the dawn tide be soon enough? My men will be at their posts by then.” He squeezed Maerva’s hand. “Erbras is no friend to the brown-robes. You’ll be safe.” His face beamed with pride. “I have a new ship, Wayward Mist. Father wasn’t happy when I announced her home port would not be Iolair Creag, but he had no say. The council of the shipbuilder’s craft gave her to me.” Arcil’s voice rose in excitement. “Wait until you see her. The Mist is bigger and twice as fast as the Bound. It might be tight quarters with an extra three bodies, but you can sleep on the ship tonight.” He hesitated as if recovering a memory. “You said that will help shield you from the Brethren’s magic.”
His enthusiasm pushed away more of the darkness in her mind. Maerva’s breath gushed out in relief
~ * ~
Imprisoned in Stone
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September 20, 2022
Hooked on Imprisoned in Stone, BookQW Eager #MFRWHooks
For the next several weeks, the posts will showcase magic of a darker kind. From Imprisoned in Stone, a snippit using the #Bookqw "eager." To set the stage, Maerva, Colwynn, and Dylan are on the run from the Brethren.
Excerpt:
Every movement in the shadows tightened Maerva’s fingers on the hilt of her sword. Although she saw no signs of pursuit, the threat of the Brethren remained. Eagerness to see her brother warred with Maerva’s fear that Arcil had already left port, cutting off that avenue of escape. The gently rocking masts of anchored ships in Erbras harbor and the familiar tang of salt air brought by the gentle breezes did nothing to ease her racing thoughts. A few feet farther up the street, Dylan led the small caravan through the rapidly-darkening town. The surety of his direction raised questions. How much of Gareth still existed in the body controlled by Dylan? Did some blending of their spirits occur when the binding between this life and the next, and between the stone and soul separated?
Dylan halted his mount and waved for Maerva and Colwynn to close up. He gestured down an alley. “The building on the left is Kennat’s store. He has no love for the Brethren, and as storekeeper, if anyone has news of Wayward Bound, he will.” Dylan dismounted, turned over the reins to Colwynn and with a glance both ways, left the alley. His footsteps rumbled on the porch boards, then silence settled over the area.
Maerva strained to hear the conversation within the building, but no matter how long she held her breath, no sounds rose above her pounding pulse. Heavy footsteps sent her hand to the hilt of her sword.
“It’s me,” Dylan hissed. “Bring the horses.” He stepped around the corner. His broad smile heralded good news. “Kennat said a trading vessel named Wayward Mist under Arcil’s command docked yesterday. Arcil, or some of his crew, should be at the Sailfish Inn. Apparently, the first officer of the Bound was promoted and took over as her captain.”
Despite a need to see her brother, Maerva curbed an instinct to gallop to the tavern and kept Rascal to a slow walk.
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September 19, 2022
Autumn Reminiscences at the BWL Blog
Over on the BooksWeLove Blog, I'm sharing some autumn reminiscences. Stop by and see some thoughts on the summer season, past and present.
~till next time, Helen
September 13, 2022
Hooked on Imprisoned in Stone, Name #MFRWHooks
To set the scene, Maerva has a special task from her mistress, Tralin. And the work comes with an unexpected surprise.
Excerpt:
Maerva leaned back against the logs and let the book fall into her lap. The cottage wall released the last of the day’s heat and provided warmth against the chill of the late autumn afternoon. Despite the isolation of the high mountain valley she now called home, the three years since she left her family had been the happiest of her life. She closed her eyes and repeated the incantation from the open page. The white mist that heralded a contact thickened and an image appeared within the depths. Although she had never before spoken to Fiodh, Tralin’s description, especially of the northern mage’s sparkling blue eyes, made it easy for Maerva to recognize the visitor. After giving her name, she described the purpose of the call. “We’ve received word from the villages along the southern pass about a sickness working its way through the Brynton Mountains. Tralin is having me contact the local healers to warn them and offer assistance if needed.”Fiodh’s voice, strong with a hint of the dialect common to the high-peaks, came into Maerva’s mind. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Maerva. Tralin has spoken highly and often of you.” His smile conveyed a welcome beyond that of his words. It flickered and his expression sobered. “I am familiar with the wasting sickness. The usual herbs had no effect. Donnelle, a skilled potioner from the Cothrom Desert, sent several remedies created from rare plants.” Even before he gave the results, Maerva felt the pain the other mage failed to hide. “Nothing I tried, including my magic, halted the disease. Three children and two elderlies succumbed.”
A second mind joined in. His face shimmered next to Fiodh’s in a ghostly duet. Similar features between Fiodh and the newcomer hinted at a family resemblance. “I hope you don’t mind, Maerva, but I invited my brother, Gareth, to join us,” Fiodh said. He laughed in a private joke. “I had to drag him into our link. My younger brother has only minor powers.”
“Greetings, Maerva.” Gareth’s soft tone and shy smile answered a loneliness Maerva had long fought to control. For several moments, she bathed in the special connection. A vow to visit Gareth—to meet him in person—formed.
Gareth’s expression darkened to match his brother’s. “I took healing potions to several of the stricken villages and checked each of the huts where someone died. There existed a hint of magic, like the aftermath of a spell without a proper dispersal.” His pause conveyed his own depth of emotion. “My skills may lie more as a weaponsmith than a mage, but I can tell you the sickness is not natural. It strikes those families who have a history of powers, even if their magic has not been active for generations.”
When Gareth spoke again, Maerva heard a warrior’s orders. “Tell Tralin to strengthen the protective spells around those who might be a target. And Maerva, be especially careful. You are the youngest of us.” Despite the sense of danger carried by the words, Maerva warmed. She looked forward to meeting Gareth in person. Preferably without his brother along.
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September 6, 2022
Hooked on Imprisoned in Stone, Allow #mfrwhooks
For the next few weeks, posts switch from dragon magic to a different kind with excerpts from the dark fantasy Imprisoned in Stone. This week uses the book quote word ALLOW.
Excerpt:
Colwynn dragged a chair to the side of the bed and lit a candle on the small side table. Using the flickering light as a focus, he sank into a deep trance and searched for the faint hint of residual power that would identify the source of Aine’s compulsion. A breath later, translucent chains, as black as the moonless sky, materialized around her throat.
Anger that Jarlath could use his daughter that way caused Colwynn’s spell to waver. The reality of the danger to both him and Aine broke his concentration and the visual shattered. He sat motionless for several long moments. In attempting to end the spell of another, a mage could become overwhelmed. Death, or at the least, the risk of loss of powers was the price. If he failed to break the geas, an even greater threat remained. Aine could remain imprisoned within her subservient roll forever.
Forcing his emotions behind a wall of ice, determination fueled his attempt to cut the bond controlling Aine. A flick of his wrist and the chains shattered into pieces. The motes floated throughout the room in a black haze. He searched Aine’s face for signs of pain or fear. All he saw was the peaceful sleep of an innocent mind.
Colwynn’s mind worked out the next move as if he played a game of castle and siege. He allowed his racing pulse to slow. Calm, deliberate calculations had to dominate his thoughts. Each incantation he called forth built on the one before. His voice grew louder as he fed more of his power into his words.
A glow of sea sprites replaced the last vestige of the setting sun. Hundreds of the tiny winged creatures flew around the room creating long streamers that swirled and danced in the air.
~ * ~
Imprisoned in Stone:
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