Want to learn more about my Characters? Well here ya go…

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  So, Squeaks over at http://hiddendoorways.blogspot.com/ did a very large character tag, and then she tagged anyone who wanted to be tagged.  I liked the idea, so I decided to do the tag as well.  The only difference between my tag and her tag is that the three characters I chose to do the tag on are from three different WIPs.  However, like her tag, I chose two male characters and one female character.  It definitely proved to be interesting…

  
  

  The rules:

  1. I pick three characters

  2. I make my characters answer these questions

  3. I tag three people

  
  

  Here are my 3 chosen characters and their WIPs (respectfully): 

  ·                     Dakore (Eldrei)

  ·                     Caellahn (Song of the Daystar)

  ·                     Aura (The Spinner’s Apprentice)

  
  

  Now… *rubs hands together*  Let’s begin.

  
  

  Do you want a hug?

  Dakore:  Hugging is not essential, and in times like these, such a show of affection is probably best kept limited.  In times of crisis, one simply cannot afford to put too much energy into such a menial act.  Of course, times of grief or great joy might call for such shows of fondness or warmth… I admit that I’ve enjoyed a hug or two on occasion.  However, it is a display best kept private, in my mind.  One might even call it sacred.
  
              Caellahn: Hugs are personal things.  Fling them out every which way and someone might call you fickle.  Never give out any, and someone might call you callous.  But hugs are capable of healing and of helping.  They connect one person to another person in a deep, heat-felt way.  Ever hug someone and feel like you understand them better for it, like their emotions are overflowing into you?  That’s what hugs are capable of, so give them out wisely, or risk getting deeply hurt.

  Aura: Hugs are nice but not necessary.  I miss them though.  Father used to hug me a lot more, but since I’ve grown up he’s all but stopped.  I think he and mother used to hug at times, but he never talks about it too much.  And I think I look so much like mother now, that it almost hurts him to think of hugging me.  He never told me how she disappeared; I just know she’s gone.  I wonder if she would hug me… I bet she would.  I’d probably like it too…  

  Now, if it were Ganeff doing the hugging, I’d like it with no questions asked, but I’d punch him anyway.  Especially if he hugged me out of concern… he should know I can handle my own affairs without his nose and quick fingers poking into my business.  *hair-flip* And don’t you dare tell him I said I’d like it.  Then I’d have to punch you too.  *sniff*

  
  

  Do you have any kids?

              Dakore:  Simply, no.  I’ve never married, though that’s not to say I wouldn’t marry if I had the chance.  However, my heart lies with only one Ellahni, but she does not know it.  She may never know.  I would tell her, but I was faithful to her husband while he lived, and I feel it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to let her know my heart, even after all these years.  Besides, I can’t be certain she’s still alive, though I’ve heard rumors she is.  If, Nildor willing, I ever see her again, then perhaps I will tell her; after all I care for her children… there’s certainly a chance she might understand.

  
  

              Caellahn: No.  My work keeps me from settling down.  Would I ever consider the option?  Maybe one day, but not for many years.  My heart lies in the fields and over the mountains and beneath forest canopies, and more often than not it’s dangerous.  It’s no life to lead a family into.  A wife and children need a home: right now I have none and I don’t plan to find one any time soon.  Besides that, my life’s earnings at the moment are a mere pittance and not nearly enough to support more than one person.  It’s unethical to think of raising a family on such terms.

  
  

              Aura: Not yet, but one day… if I’m ever allowed that.  I wonder if Spinners can have families…? O_o 

  
  

  
  

  Have you killed anyone?

              Dakore: Out of necessity, yes.  Warriors cannot hope to be called such without laying sword to skin or spilling blood.  But I don’t kill unless it is called for; I am not an assassin, but I am, as one might say “well equipped”.

  Caellahn:  It’s sometimes called for.  However, all blood must be accounted for.  Times are troubling indeed, when one man must kill another in order to live in relative peace.  I do not take pride in the blood spilled, but regret is something I can’t afford.

  Aura:  Of course.  I wouldn’t be a Rover if I hadn’t.  What sort of thief do you take me for?
  
  

  Love anyone?

              Dakore: She doesn’t know.
  
              Caellahn: Not to this point in time.  Although, there was this one girl YEARS ago…
  
              Aura: I’m not sure if it’s actually “love” yet, or just “really, really like”.  But if he’s too dense to figure it out, then I don’t plan to tell him. *mischievous grin*

  
  

  What is your job?

              Dakore: I was the Standard Bearer for King Brentide the Silver, while he still lived.  After his death, I became Head Advisor to her majesty, Nillana the Saphire.  Now, I watch over her children as they travel back to the land of their heritage.  It’s not an easy task, to say the very least… there is much they have to learn in order to return, and Gorrak will stop at nothing to slay them.  But how could I call myself loyal to the Ellahni Throne if I weren’t willing to take on the dangers involved in returning the heirs?

  Caellahn: One might say I have two jobs, but to speak of them now ruins so much of my story that I shall respect my Author’s wishes and remained close-mouthed.  Besides, it is rather dangerous to speak of such things outright.  I am a man of secrets, and it rather defeats the purpose of my work if I spell out all my secrets for other eyes to see.  O_o

  Aura:  I guess you could say that my way of life is my job… or it was at the beginning of my story.  Rovers live by thieving, for the most part.  We’re similar to gypsies, I guess, only I suppose you could say that we are much more “dastardly”.  Of course, now I’ve been told that I’m supposed to take on a “new” job… or role in life.  Supposedly I’m supposed to be the new “Spinner” in Telltale, and from what Hawk tells me, “The Spinner is the person who spins and weaves all the stories, yarns, tales, myths, and legends throughout the land; without the Spinner, Telltale couldn’t survive.”  But I don’t want to be the Spinner… THEY CAN’T MAKE ME!!!  Hmph!!
  
  
  

  Favorite season?

              Dakore:  The seasons of Nerovell are such fascinating things: we don’t have such things in Narra, but they are spellbinding to watch.  I am rather partial to Winter, myself.  It is cold, but the sky always seems the clearest in the deep winter and I can see my home much better than in some of the other seasons.

  Caellahn:  I think I prefer the Autumn.  The climate is much less severe than in Summer and Winter, and it makes traveling so much more accommodating.

  Aura:  I think I’d have to say Summer.  The heat isn’t so bad when you live in the deep forest, and its fun to go swimming on the worst days.  Besides, there are so many beautiful colors to look at in the summer!!  Rover’s Wood ends up looking like someone splattered colorful paint all over everything. Hehe!
  
  

  Who's your best friend?

              Dakore: I was not just King Brentide’s Standard Bearer: we’d been friends since we were boys, and the mutual love for one another’s company just sort of spilled over into our adult lives.  Since his death, I cannot say that I have a best friend of any sort, though I find Nolan extremely intriguing, and there’s something to be said about Shaina’s loyalty.
  
              Caellahn: Best friend?  Can’t say that I have one, or that I’ve ever had one for that matter.  Even as a boy, I was the one who liked to strike out alone to explore the deep dark wood.  You wouldn’t believe how many wonderful secrets a single forest can hold beneath its boughs, and so many people are too afraid of the shadows to discover them.  I refused to be that sort of person then, and that’s why I am the person I am now.
  
              Aura:  Ganeff is my best friend, and he’s got a big enough head for it too.  He’s lucky I like him and that my dad’s the Rogue, or his quick fingers might get him in more trouble than he’s worth. ;)

  
  

  Hobbies?

              Dakore:  These days I end up staring at the sky and thinking a lot.  I miss home terribly, and the promise of returning is forever on my mind.  However, I’m also training Tibain in sword play and both he and Arien are learning the bow. (Don’t tell Tibain, but Arien is doing much better at it than he is…)  Besides that, however, I’ve found that I enjoy fishing and mending… While the children were young I had Lauring teach me how to sew.  I also enjoy planting things in the earth where Erolyn’s Gift is best put to work.

  
  

              Caellahn: Knife throwing.  After all, one can’t be too careful and practice makes perfect.  Not to be boastful, but I believe my skills might even be comparable to Allim.  He would never admit it though.   Besides knives, however, I have this thing for good wine and the making of such…

  
  

              Aura: Oh, Ganneff might say my hobby is getting myself into trouble.  Actually, though, I love colors.  All colors.  I would like to learn how to dye cloth, though my father says that’s an inappropriate task for the daughter of the Rogue and the future Rover Queen.  I don’t see his point.  Besides that, however, I like to bow-hunt and tree-hop.  Rover’s Wood is just brimming with adventure for an overly active teenage girl. *grin*

  
  

  
  

  What are you going to do when this tag is over?

              Dakore: I suppose I shall have to get back to my story, mustn’t I?  My author is kind enough to give me a break every once in a while from the rigors of life, but I can’t very well let those two walking hazards I call “charges” alone for more than a few minutes: believe me, I’ve tried and they get in more trouble than it’s worth.  *Dakore glances back at Tibain and Arien.  Arien waves and Tibain grins, hiding something behind his back. Dakore sighs and shakes his head.* 

  Caellahn:  Continue on with life, I guess.  I can never say what’s going to happen to me next, so I try to keep an open mind.

  Aura: I plan to go roaming Rover’s Wood.  I still haven’t figured out what those lights are out by Thatcher’s Corner, and that old Gypsy Cart is still around here somewhere… Though hopefully it’s long gone from Lorg Way.  *shivers*

  
  

  Okay... What is your eye color?

              Dakore: Golden Brown.  It’s not a common color among the Ellahni, so I am what some might call “an interesting phenomenon”.  It seems to be natural among the humans, though, so I’ve “fit in” rather well in Midgard and Nerovell.

              Caellahn: Deep blue.  I’m told my eyes remind people of a very deep pool of water at times.  There are rumors that my eyes are “magic”, but don’t believe a word of it.  The tricks practiced by traveling magicians are as fake as a Búrri’s blond hair, and Anahdor’s gifts far outweigh the things associated with the word.

              Aura:  Bright blue.  I’m told they sometimes glow, and I can see better in the dark than most people, even father. 

  
  

  Are you good? Or bad?

              Dakore: I would say I’m good.  At least I’m on the side of Nildor and of justice, and my intentions aren’t double-sided.  I have only one wish which is to see Brentide’s throne restored to its former glory, and to see the stain of Gorrak and his minions washed away forever.

  
  

              Caellahn: I suppose it depends on which side you’re on, doesn’t it?  One way or another, I am what I am; by Anahdor’s grace, I am cleansed from my former sins and made new, but under King Morven’s law I am considered a lawbreaker.  However I’m sure King Morven does not believe that he is evil or that what he’s doing is wrong.  It just depends on your point of view.

             

              Aura:  Oh, I’m most definitely bad. *mischievous grin*  They don’t call me an outlaw for nothin’!

  
  

  
  

  What is your greatest fear?

              Dakore: That all I am and all I am doing to save Nerovell and my people from destruction will not be enough.  That my charges will be captured and slaughtered by the hands of the Rhúgar.  That my home and race will be destroyed and that Gorrak will win.

  
  

              Caellahn: I don’t have time to think of fear: it just gets in my way.  Besides, with Anahdor beside me, who shall stand against me?  My fears were washed away along with my sins.

  
  

              Aura:  It used to be that I feared my father’s disapproval above all else, but now I’m more afraid for my future.  I refuse to be something I don’t want to be!!! I don’t care what fate or the stupid Tale has in mind!  But things keep getting more and more difficult and what if I’m forced into something I can’t back out of?  A Rover’s always supposed to have an escape… what if I can’t find one?  What if I can’t escape myself?

  
  

  
  

  What do you think of your parents?

              Dakore:  I love my parents dearly and miss them terribly.  They are still alive as it is… Ellahni live for centuries and longer for the most part.  My father, aged as he was, still fought in the battle on the plains now known as Mornéa Arneth.  My mother is known for her voice and her weavings; she was the one who taught Lady Nillana how to create tapestries. 

  
  

              Caellahn:  My father was the previous Commander at Fort Gallant in the south of Aliyia, and my mother was a mistress to him.  She never married.  I loved her dearly, but feared my father to a degree.  He seemed to favor me over his older son by his legal wife, yet he was very strict and easily lost his temper.  When I became older, I hated him for years for how I was conceived: why couldn’t he have married my mother as well?  Taking multiple wives was not something that was encouraged in Alayia before King Morven’s time, but it was not unheard of either, especially among the Búrri people who originated from Southland and traded at the fort; some Búrri even made their homes in Vellingsford and Chaiter.  I ended up leaving the fort altogether.  Only in my late teenage years did I forgive my father, once the Elder’s found me and taught me about Anahdor.

  
  

              Aura:  I don’t remember much about my mother… I hardly ever saw her when I was little; she seemed to flit in and out of camp and she would be gone for weeks to return one night and be gone again the next morning.  However, my father loved her so much that he actually married her.  He has an old portrait of her that he keeps hidden in a locket.  He never shows the locket to anyone, but I’ve managed to snitch it before and take a look inside.  I was only caught once.  I think my mother was beautiful, and I’m told I look very much like her, which pleases me, but I think it sometimes stirs old wounds in my father’s heart.  One night she never came back, and he never talks about it.  I don’t hate her for leaving or anything… I sort of feel indifferent about it.  After all, I hardly ever saw her to begin with, and then it was mostly in the shadows of evening.  Besides, I have my father to watch over me and protect me, and I love him very much.  He can be a bit stern at times, but I know that he’s only trying to look out for me.  I think it would devastate him if I somehow disappeared.    

  
  

  
  

  Any siblings?

              Dakore: No.  I was an only child, though Brentide and I were so close sometimes that we were referred to as brothers.

  
  

              Caellahn: I have a half-brother: Olan, current Commander at Fort Gallant.  But, sad as it is to say, our hearts are far from brotherly towards each other.  The favor of my father drove a rift between us when we were just boys and Olan has never gotten over it.  Perhaps he never will.

  
  

              Aura:  I have many brothers and sisters, though only two of them are related fully by blood.  My full sister’s name is Tellien, and my full brother’s name is Quincey, after my father.  After that, there’s the twins, Bardon and Bradon, by a goose girl named Ellurin Mckyzie: then Shawna by a shop keeper’s daughter named Rowa Vúrshwin.  Then comes Leah and Darren by the High-Born Lady, Neúlli Ethilen.  After that comes Sahléa (girl), Nathanial, and Corra, by a shepherdess named Adwyna Warryn; Jahslyn (girl), Mathella (boy), and Marcus by a Thatcher’s daughter called Merathé Eddinrow, and finally there’s Camelli (girl), Adrian (boy) Nemyna (girl), and Candor (boy) by the peasant girl Yennirell Fellington.  So all in all that equals… *does math in her head* … 17 brothers and sisters?  Yeah… that’s a lot.  *sighs*  And it’s hard to keep track of them all.  See, I’m the oldest and all of Rogue Quince’s (my father’s) children live here in Rover’s Wood after their mother’s affairs were discovered.  Since the children’s father was a Rover, they couldn’t be kept in the towns for fear that the children would take on their father’s thieving, mischievous qualities, so they were banished to the woods.  I wouldn’t say it’s a bad life… The old Rover ladies are as good to them as they were too me, and since they are Rogue Quince’s children they get treated rather well.  However, I don’t really approve of my father’s dallying.  I suppose he thinks of it as some sort of accomplishment, being the Rogue and all… he certainly didn’t get THAT title by sitting around all day.  But there’re enough mouths to feed as it is without him constantly adding to them, and it sort of makes me feel like he doesn’t care a whit for his real wife – my real mother – even though she’s gone now. 

  
  

  
  

  Was it fun to answer all these questions?

              Dakore: It was interesting and quite refreshing, to be truthful.  I enjoy the few moments I get to reflect and remember.

  
  

              Caellahn:  Oh, there are probably other things I should be doing right now, but I don’t mind answering questions every once in a while.  I was bored to start with, as my author hasn’t moved on in chapter 3 yet which means I’m still waiting to get to the action part.  *whistles nonchalantly*

  
  

              Aura:  I think it’s fun. *grin* But then again, I’m a character that has been shelved for over a year, so it’s nice just to get out of all that cyber dust. *cough-cough*

  
  

  
  

  Sure thing... Do you have any weaknesses?

              Dakore:  Hmmm… a weakness… I value life highly and if anything were to happen to my charges, I’m not sure what would happen to me.  I AM sure that I don’t want to find out.  <_<

  
  

              Caellahn:  Weaknesses?  Well, nothing really comes to mind… that’s not to say I don’t have a weakness, but rather that I never really know what my weakness may be at the time.  Might it be a life, or a part of my body, or a saying, or what?  I guess I’ll never really know until I’m tried.  Now, I’ve been challenged before and my weaknesses have proven to be different things, but never the same thing twice, as odd as that sounds.  Once my weakness was the thought of losing one of my big toes… *shivers*  (Long, scary story, that one.) Another time, it was utter darkness that near drove me to insanity.

  
  

              Aura: A weakness… I’m not really sure.  I love my brothers and sisters dearly, so I would hate to lose one of them.  However, up to this point in my life there’s not a whole lot I’ve had to be afraid of… Well, on second thought, there was that one time with the Living  Nightmare, but that’s more of a fear than a weakness.

  
  

  
  

  Your favorite element?

              Dakore: I believe mine would have to be a combination of air and water.  I can’t explain why… it just FEELS right.  *shrugs*

              Caellahn:  Mine would have to be the earth.  I’m a traveling sort of person and I live off of the terrain…

              Aura:  Mine is a mixture of earth and water, I think.  Earth because it makes me think of Rover’s Wood, and I LOVE Rover’s Wood.  Water because… I don’t know.  Because I love it; does there really need to be a better explanation?

  
  

  Do you care what others think of you?

              Dakore: No.  Well… maybe a little, but not for vanity’s sake.  I care what Nillana might think of me once I return to Narra, and I care that my charges look to me much like they would look at a father.  But as far as worrying over what others might say about my appearance, I am not so petty as that.

  
  

              Caellahn:  In my line of business, looks matter very much.  But I won’t say more on that, lest I give too much away. ;)  Personality wise, I am who I am: other people can think well of me or not as they chose but that’s their own prerogative and I could care less.

  
  

              Aura:  Yes!  To be quite honest, I’m tired of the drab Rover’s wear.  I’d like to add color to my wardrobe and see what might happen for once.  But I know that such disobedience would surely enrage and discourage my father; Ganeff’s approval is second only to his.

  
  

  
  

  Your theme song?

  [N/A]

  
  

  What's your species?

              Dakore:  I am Ellahni… that is, what some humans might call those of us with “heavenly” lineage.  Not Angels, nor anything like the Vatta by far.  But perhaps, to put it more bluntly, you might understand me better if I tell you that I am Star Born.

             

              Caellahn:  I am simply and humbly human.  *bows*

  
  

              *Nichole in Aura’s Stead*  Hello, bloggy friends!  Aura is only half human.  However, she is currently unaware of this fact and of the other half of her lineage through her mother’s side.  And since she doesn’t know it, I couldn’t very well have her tell you what it is, now could I?  And I would rather her not find out just yet, so I banished her from this last question.  *grin*  But I’ll tell you anyway, and hopefully she won’t sneak back in and notice.  Her mother was a High Born Fae, the Lady Mirra illuséon, later to become Mirra Mackindorn.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  And that’s all.  It was a very long tag… it actually took me several hours to fill out, because I had to go into my characters’ heads and think of their answers.  But because of that very fact, it was also extremely fun.  I think I even learned a few things. :)

  
  

  Like Squeaks, I’m just gonna tag anyone who wants to be tagged.  And if you do decide to do this, then I would love it if you would let me know; I like to learn about other characters. :D

  
  

  Nichole

Surgery… (Otherwise known as my attempts to further the progress of SOTD)

That's right; surgery. Not for me (directly), but for my novel-in-progress (respectfully)… which, if you think about it, can be just as painful to a writer as can the normal meaning behind the referral of the word. Hmm….

If you follow my blog, then you already know, but SOTD is going through a major facelift… actually, it's more like an entire "body-lift" if you want to get technical. That's right, folks… I'm rewriting. Again. Like, for the 15^th time. But this is old news; I've been working on the rewrite since January and you all know that. ;)

What's not old news is that at long last I'm making progress again. I mentioned in my last post that I finally beat the dratted slum that had me trapped in chapter 3. (I mean, I was really getting tired of the number 3! :P) I'm so happy!

Now, the trouble I'm having doesn't have to do with moving on so much as it has to do with editing. I can't wait to move on!!! I have SO much epicness planned for the near future of the book, it makes me want to type! Like, Now! And not stop until late night… or early morning; that is, whenever I pause to look at the clock and realize that I really should be sleeping or I'll be a zombie in the morning. 

It's just that I can't seem to turn off my inner editor. I've tried – I really have – but she just insists that I pay attention to her. And unfortunately Inspiration is in league with Inner-Editor and refuses to let me start typing the next part of the story until I realize and fix the problems that are in the first scene of chapter 3. 

So I've come up with a plan. I've been concocting it for several days now – see my messy hair and crazy, red-rimmed eyes? That's because I've gone all "mad scientist" while working out this blue print of how to foil Inner-Editor's frenzied attempts to stop my progress. I've decided that I'm going to post the first part of chapter 3 here on my blog. I'll let you guys be my editor – if you see anything that stands out to you, good or bad, let me know about it. If you tell me what you think of the excerpt and I work out the kinks you point out, maybe Inner-Editor will be forced to shut down for awhile! Then I can move on unhindered!

So to randomly quote Disney's The Emperor's New Groove in my best Esma voice, "Oh, I know! I'll turn Inner-Editor into a flea – a harmless little flea. And then I'll put that flea in a box. And then I'll put that box in another box. And then I'll mail that box to myself. And when it arrives? Ahahaha! I'll SMASH IT WITH A HAMMER!!!

"It's brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, I tell you! Genius, I say! *poof* Or, (to save time and my sanity) I'll just foil Inner Editor by doing THIS! Take it, my loyal bloggy friends! FEEL THE POWER!!!"

:D

Chapter 3

(Currently Untitled)

Thunk, thunk, thunk!

“Ungggh.”  Curron rolled over and buried his face in his hands.  His entire body ached as if he’d been bucked off a horse and then trampled.  Metal clattered all around him when he moved and something heavy dragged at his wrists.
                        Clang! Thunk, thunk, thunk.

“Téagh, that old rat.”  Grimacing, Curron pushed himself up to a sitting position and rubbed the back of his head; upright, it felt like a large boulder balanced precariously on an insufficient neck. Leaving his eyes closed, he shouted, “Cut the noise, old man!  You could wake the dead with that racket.  I’m up already!”

Normally this would have earned him a retort; something like, “I’ll take what help I can get, ye lout.  If it’s not from the likes of you, then the dead might as well try their hands at it.”  Today, however, there was nothing.  The hammering noise sounded through the room like the muted march of soldiers’ feet, but the old Stable Master never replied.

Curron opened one eye to a slit and immediately wished he hadn’t.  Blood pounded in his head, sending fractal colors and bursts of pain skittering before his eyes.  The small room tilted sideways, melded together in myriad shades of grey and flickering orange, and then started to spin.  He quickly closed his eyes again and leaned back against a wall.   
                       What is this place? he wondered.  Certainly not his room in the stable loft.  For one thing, this room’s floor was made of stone, not wood, and instead of the familiar smell of horse and hay, there was a strange musty scent fused with the underlying, bitter tang of old iron.    For another thing, the room was entirely too cold and completely bare.  What had happened to his bed and the brazier that stood in the corner filled with hot coals?  Where was the trunk that once belonged to Seliah?  And what about the old saddle he’d been repairing under Téagh’s careful instruction?  Téagh treated most people to a dose of crude arrogance whether he knew them or not, but Curron was different.  The retorts remained, but there was respect too, and a distorted form of kindness.  The saddle was to be Curron’s once it was repaired; he couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

His memories all clouded together like a thick fog.  They shifted and churned, darted and flitted like shadow-figures playing hide-n-catch, but they refused to align.  If this isn’t my room, he thought, and it most certainly isn’t – then where am I?

Thunk, clang!  Thunk, thunk, thunk.

The noise jarred Curron’s thoughts.  He opened his eyes and the flitting shadows vanished, replaced by dread that tightened in his gut like a knot of writhing snakes.  There was something very wrong with that hammering sound: something menacing.

He pushed himself away from the wall and looked around the room.    The space was square and barely more than three paces wide in both directions – just big enough for him to lie out straight either way.  It felt more like a tall sepulcher than it did a room or even a cell.  And with the hammering noise reverberating around the walls, he could almost imagine the sound was actually the bony fists of some crypt’s long dead occupants trying to get free. 

Shivering, Curron shook the picture from his head.  What nonsense.  Selliah would never approve of such thoughts.  If he kept at it, he would drive himself insane.

The ceiling of the room was low.  If he stood on the tips of his toes and held his arms stretched up, he could probably brush its surface with his fingertips.  A heavy wooden door without latch or handle was embedded in the wall opposite of him.  Near the top of the door was a barred window that looked out into blackness.  He eyed the window thoughtfully.

Barred?  This was a cell then, probably somewhere within the labyrinth of Fort Gallant’s underground tunnels.  Only once before had he ever stepped foot beyond the darkened lintel that marked passage into the tunnels, and the memory still haunted his nightmares.

He leaned forward, bracing himself to stand.  If he could get a better look through the iron bars, perhaps he could figure out the nature of his prison.  Metal clattered a protest as he moved, and his arms felt extremely heavy and cold.  He glanced down.

Oh…

Heavy shackles coupled his wrists and ankles together, while four lengths of thick chain, their links about the size of his thumb, wound in and out of the bulky rings welded to the side of each manacle.  The opposite end of every chain was attached to a separate wall.

Right.

Curron eyed the chains dubiously and gave them a hard shake.  They rattled together, bashing against the tender underside of his wrists and sending tingles through his fingers.  He let his hands drop back to his side in dismay.  Shackles meant only one thing as far as he knew, and the chains just confirmed it.  Broken scenes from the night before floated back into place, taunting him with their incompleteness: Olan’s mocking voice, Mirra’s screams, the fighting, the blood-lust.  Flashes of color and light flitted through his memory and disappeared again– a knife, a candle, a pair of startling blue eyes…

Rage.

He cringed.  Even the memory of the feeling was so strong it sent his limbs to shaking.  Olan had despised him for years and the feeling was mutual.  He’d always known it would come to a head, but he never envisioned it ending like this.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and cupped his chin in his hands, trying to recall all the details of the fight, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t remember the very end.  It must have been bad, he concluded, Else why would I hurt so much, and why am I stuck in his dark hole?  Maybe I got hit on the head.  Maybe that’s why my head hurts so much and I can’t seem to remember clearly.  He reached up to feel his scalp, but except for a few extra dirt particles and a beetle that he untangled from his curls, there was nothing to feel: no blood, no lumps, no bruises.
            He squished the beetle in his hand and flicked its remains across the cell.  So much for that idea.
            The foreboding hammering sound continued, quieter than before, but just as unnerving.  Voices floated through the air from somewhere over Curron’s head, mingling with the sound of clopping hooves and wagon wheels rolling and creaking over stone cobbles.  Curron shifted uneasily and twisted to glance up at the wall he was sitting against.  Near the top was another tiny rectangular window striated with iron bars and open to the air.  Sunlight filtered through the bars, painting the floor of the cell and part of one wall with patches of a lighter grey, tinged yellow.  The sounds of many people and groaning timber wafted in through the window, followed by more banging.  He thought he heard his name.

Bracing himself against the wall, he inched upward until his fingers finally caught the window ledge and wrapped around the iron bars.  Using the bars as handles, he pulled himself upright and peered between them into a colorful, chaotic mess.

People milled all around the courtyard in and out of thick wooden tables and brightly painted carts as they talked to sellers or yelled after spouses. Traveling merchants hawked their wares to anyone interested: a bolt of brilliant cloth dyed from the gold Lauris flowers of Southland, a bottle of red wine from Ereniel in the west, a spool of silk ribbon from the Hahl’eil silk farms east of the Great Forest, a quiver of Bannergoose-fletched arrows from the Wild North.  A band of children chased chickens around and under the legs of people and chairs alike, ignoring the calls of bustling mothers who balanced babies on their hips and browsed through the offered goods.

Curron’s eyes drank in the whole mess.  A thrill coursed through his body. 

Trades Week!  The very first day.  If he were free, he’d be milling around as well, looking for something worthwhile to spend his copper drúggle on, perhaps joining the older boys in a game of Whithle Tag.  The first Trades Week of the month always brought throngs of people through Fort Gallant’s gates.  Most came from Eldin and the surrounding farmland, or they were Búrri traveling from northern Southland to barter.  However, there were always a few roaming traders mixed into the throng, and a gypsy or two hoping to earn coins by entertaining.  The grim, grey place known as Fort Gallant became a blossoming bazaar of vibrant promise.

Then Curron’s eyes fell on something in the middle of the courtyard: a dark blight that defied all color and reared out tall above the crowds of people, grotesque as an open wound.  Black-stained beams of wood formed a raised platform that housed a single mast jutting up from the center like a dark finger.  The mast was reinforced with wood and iron fittings to keep it from falling over, and a long-armed boom reached out from its top as if to scrape open the sky.  A small crowd of people gathered round to watch a man who stood beside the mast pound in iron pegs with a mallet.

Clang, thunk, clang, thunk, clang, thunk!
                        The people pointed and whispered.

Another man sat astride the boom, working with something in his hands.  Minutes later he let the thing drop.  There, tied around the girth of the long, extending arm dangled a thick hemp rope with a loop at the end.

A gallows.

Of course. 

Curron shrank back from the window, cold fear rushing through his veins and wrapping around his heart.  He swallowed hard several times and slumped back against the wall.  This was all his fault.  He’d brought this on himself.  He should never have risen to Olan’s taunts.  If he’d only left the dining hall when he’d had the chance!

The sound of metal being pounded into wood tolled out again, drowning out the people’s whispering voices, filling the air like a mournful dirge.  Curron screwed his eyes shut and clapped his hands over his ears.  Yet without his surroundings to distract him, the black, wooden monster from his dreams tainted his imagination in grisly red.

A frail body dangling in a stark, black wind.  Silver hair swaying before a sweet aged face.  One lone raven circling above, glistening black feathers in stark contrast with the ice blue sky.

Blood…

That monster was up in the courtyard now, waiting for him, drawn from his nightmares like the devil made flesh.

A huge, misshapen, wooden devil.

Curron swallowed the bile that rose to his throat.

A gallows.  He cringed at the word, wringing trembling hands.  That’s why all the people are really here; to watch me die.

****

A Spear + A Head = “Spearhead”

See? I'm not so bad at math after all. :)

Many of you have probably noticed by now, but there's a new buzz circulating among the readers (and writers) of Christian Fantasy and Science Fiction. The "buzz" is called Spearhead, a new Guild put together and run by Bestselling Christian Fiction authors Christopher Hopper, Wayne Thomas Batson, Christopher Miller, and Allen Miller. The Guild's launch was held yesterday, and ever since then, the world of facebook and the Blogosphere have been teeming with writers and readers interested to see where this new publishing method will go – and perhaps how they can get on board. After all, something serious must have happened to pull in these four bestselling authors and have them create a whole new system for publishing. As it states on their website:

"As culture changes, so too must the methods in which authors find their voice and share their words. Words that further move culture to change."

It also states:

"It's about relationships… The reality is audiences don't buy books because of a publisher's name on the spine. They buy books because they've been vetted and accepted by their culture. Readers flock to books they have heard about from their friends, have found an engaging discussion about, or have seen promoted by another trusted author.


Relationships matter immensely in today's socially networked world. By gathering like-minded creators and inventors whose allegiances are bound by willfully aligning themselves with one another, we hope to experiment with new distribution methods that meet our audiences where they are. And then take them further."
 
Ok, I'm definitely intrigued. We've all heard the term "Independent publishing" or "Indie Publishing" for short, but it looks like these four authors have decided to take that term to a whole new level. Instead of venturing out to be independent on their own, they've decided to be "independent" together – something that's never really been done before. At least not to this extent. The Guild will both publish and sell books written by its members, and as Wayne Thomas Batson stated on his blog:


"Every single title published will be professionally edited and proofed, triple checked for content, and adhere to a standard of Biblical quality."


Coming from one of my most trusted Christian author resources, I tend to believe him. And perhaps the best feature of this guild is that a user-friendly rating system will be installed to let readers know the kind of content they can expect to find. Listings, reader reviews, and an interactive forum will allow readers to help other readers find something they'll enjoy reading. If this is done properly and Spearhead is a success, it could blow the Traditional Christian Publishing meme out of the water! 


Every one of the four well-known authors who have founded the Guild, have several titles out branded with traditional publishing company names, and each one of those titles have (in my opinion) sold relatively well. So with the very opening of the Guild, the waters of the Christian Publishing World have become "well stirred".


What does this mean for Christian fiction writers everywhere? Well, it most definitely means that the tides are changing. According to the entry Mr. Batson posted on his blog concerning the Guild's birth:


"Last year, Amazon.com revealed that it had sold more ebooks than paper books for the first time in history…. Suddenly, the tide in the literary bay was sucked out to sea, leaving a muddy bog of barnacle-crusted driftwood and flopping fish…. iPads, Kindles, Nooks, and eReaders of all makes and models began to appear, even in the hands of the most dedicated paper-philes. Authors all over began to realize: "Wait a minute, I'm working my tail off sacrificing myself and my family for a mere pittance. But with eBooks, suddenly I can earn something much more reasonable? Hmmm…"


Well said, Sir Batson, well said. As a rather dedicated "paper-phile" myself and as an aspiring author, I couldn't have explained the phenomenon in better words.


For years I've explored the option of Independent Publishing and ePublishing vs. Traditional Publishing. At long last I finally came to the conclusion that Traditional Publishing was the way to start out in the literary world. And perhaps it still is. It's certainly a valid way to be included in many groups and bookstores that otherwise wouldn't take a second glance at an independently published book. Besides that, all four of the founders of Spearhead were traditionally published to start with before they made the decision to switch. However, perhaps what this amazing change in the wind is really saying is that once published traditionally, authors need not remain so. 


The question that I believe most Christian readers are asking is, "But if a book isn't published through a company I trust, then how will I know that it's 'safe' for me to read? Especially if I've never even heard the author's name before?" I think many Christian authors ask a similar question: "If I'm not published traditionally, then how will Christian readers know that my book is safe to read?"


It all comes down to branding. Readers trust brands that they know, or that they've researched. And it's the issue of branding that has bogged down the minds of Christian fiction writers (and writers of other genres) for years and years and years. Its hard work to become traditionally published and earn that honored brand, but its triply hard work to become known by publishing independently without the brand or a publisher's word to vouch for you. Just because the statistics show that more ebooks were sold in one year than paper books, doesn't mean that the ebooks sold were from independent authors; there are many traditional companies out there who sell ebooks as well as paper books, and they do so efficiently. If a reader were looking for Christian ebooks and they came across a few "independently published" titles, how would they know that those titles were trustworthy? 


Well, Spearhead is ready for those types of questions. As Mr. Batson also stated on his blog: 


"Spearhead is a Professional Writers' Guild… We are creating a brand, a seal of trust. When you go looking for books, we want you to have a landing pad, a place to start. Four authors now, but many more to come."


In light of that last statement, I have a question of my own: Who is going to join Spearhead next?


The major difference between Spearhead and a Traditional Publisher is that Spearhead is a community. It is a group of authors who work together to put out the best product that they can. Much like a Traditional Publisher, they don't undermine the value of branding, but they also appreciate the trust of their readers to a larger degree than I believe most Traditional Publishers do. From the looks of what I've read so far, Spearhead will strive to put quality and values before profit, and they plan to take their work to the nations.


Taking all of these aspects of Christian publishing into account, along with the shared values, morals, and advice of trusted Christian authors, and the knowledge and respect due to the hard work involved, I just have a couple of questions left: What does the Guild look for in an author, and how might another author join? Because in all reality, those shared values and morals are the values and morals that I prize so highly in the books I read, and that I strive to include in my own writings. Knowing that, you can bet I'll be looking for a way to join the Guild sometime in the future.

Journaling and “The Candlestone”

Not a very exciting title but it pretty much sums this post up.  I have SO MUCH I want to talk about and there’s no way I’ll fit it all in this one post.  Actually, I should have tried to post this at least a week ago, but I’ve been having some troubles with my internet connection.  And as all of you know, if you can’t get on the internet, there’s no way you can blog. ;’(

To start out, many good things have been happening recently, first and foremost that I finally beat that dratted slum in SOTD.  The opening for Chapter 3 has been driving me insane for near on 2 months (way too long) and I finally figured out what was going wrong last Thursday.  Since then, the slum has cleared up for the most part, which opens a world of possibilities that I can’t wait to explore.  It’s about time too; this rewrite has been giving me headaches.  I’m not sure why it’s being so difficult, but I know that all the trouble will be so worth it when I’m through.  Not to sound too bold or anything, but believe me when I say that this is going to be EPIC! :D

I’m also designing and sewing a new medieval dress.  I can’t wait to see it finished!  I’m using a pattern for the most basic structure of the over-gown, but I’m also completely re-designing the dress so that at least half of the pattern won’t even be relevant by the time I’m through with it.  My hope is to have the finished dress made (at least somewhat) “Period” with a slightly new design.  I’m researching the details for the piece.  There are many things to ask myself: like, would it be alright to use a long, decorative chemise as an under-gown, or should I make a supportive kirtle?  (The downside of the kirtle being that I will also need a chemise for the sleeves, and the overlapping layers will make the dress uncomfortably hot by the end of July…)  I also have to wonder how one constructs an over-gown with a supportive bodice and how one might alter a pattern in order to gain such a bodice.  And should I have the back of the over-gown lace up instead of installing the much more efficient zipper?  Then if I do decide to lace up the back, should I make the eyelets myself or use metal rivets?  You know… petty things like that.  To make the dress as close to period as possible, the answers are actually staring me right in the face, but some of you know how it can be – should one choose convenience for speed, or time over contemporary?

One thing is certain, though: I will not be sewing the dress by hand.  There’s no time for that.  I would love to, but when it comes down to it, I want to have this piece finished in 3 to four weeks and a machine is much faster and (in my opinion) sturdier than what I could do by hand.  Someday though… someday I vow to complete a medieval gown with only the stitches pushed through by my own fingers, but until then… *sigh*  Oh well.  I’ll just have to make up for it by adding the decorative embroidery and beading by hand. ^_^  In the end, the dress promises to be beautiful.  If I had a sketch here with me I would post it, but I guess you’re just going to have to wait to see the finished piece too. Too bad.  Mwahahaha! ;)

And now to the moment you’ve all been waiting for… the actual book review.  Be warned: there are definite spoilers ahead.

The book I’m reviewing is “The Candlestone” by Bryan Davis.

In the book, Billy and Bonnie, two half-dragon children bestowed with dragon gifts (Billy has fire breath and Bonny has wings) are once again faced with the threat of an evil pursuing their kind since the time of King Arthur.  What had seemed to be the happy ending of their last, life threatening adventure is suddenly shattered when Bonnie’s father returns and says that her mother, whom she thought was dead, is calling for Bonnie to come and save her.  Fearing for her mother’s life, Bonnie goes with her father back to Montana where her mother is said to be, but the knowledge of her father’s past deeds against her and her mother have Bonnie continually waiting on the edge of her seat for something to go wrong.

Meanwhile, Billy, his professor, and his best friend think there’s something shady about Bonnie’s father.  Bonnie already told them some of what went on while she and her mother were still with her father, so having Bonnie’s dad show up right before Bonnie is about to be adopted seems a little fishy.  However, the law says that Bonnie’s dad has the right to claim her since there’s no real proof that he did what Bonnie says he did and since she’s underage.  Unable to prevent Bonnie from going, Billy and his friends seek the help of Billy’s father and start researching the secrets of a mysterious book believed to be Merlin’s journal.  Along the way, they discover something about Bonnie’s father and the strange Candlestone that seems to draw the strength away from anyone of dragon descent.  In their first adventure, Devin the Dragon Slayer and self-proclaimed knight had used the Candlestone to weaken the children in order to overpower them, but then Devin disappeared.  Now Billy discovers that the Candlestone does more than just draw light to it… it also captures souls.  With no way to escape, some of the souls have been trapped there for centuries with no way to get out, and now Devin has joined them… and he wants OUT.  Billy is afraid that Bonnie might be in much more trouble than she ever could have guessed, and so he sets out to save her.

Pros:

Well, as you might be able to tell by my summary, this book’s plot is rather complicated.  Which is a good thing.  I love complicated plots; they allow me to keep guessing throughout the entire story, and then they surprise me.  However, I tend to be a somewhat impatient reader.  When I get interested in one person’s story and then the POV changes, I can get frustrated.  Since there are two sides of the story that need to be told in this book, and since they need to be told in two different places at the same time, the POV changes frequently.  And so, me being the impatient person that I am, I kept skipping ahead; I read through Bonnie’s side of the story clear to the end, then I went back and read through Billy’s side.  This is not the ideal way to read a book, it’s true – I don’t actually recommend doing it – but I just couldn’t help myself!  I became so enthralled with Bonnie’s story right off the bat that I just had to know what was going to happen to her next and I couldn’t wait to find out.  I certainly commend Mr. Davis for his ability to captivate a reader.  If his books tend to be a little over-complicated, they make up for it by being mesmerizing.

 Also, as much as I enjoyed the first book, I felt like the characters were much more developed in this book.  In the first book, the characters felt realistic and developed, but somehow Mr. Davis was able to delve deeper into their personalities and pull out the best of them in the Candlestone.  Secrets are revealed, fears realized, revelations understood… the characters are so colorful you almost wouldn’t need the vivid scenery that accompanies them, but Mr. Davis goes ahead and gives it to us anyway.  His prose are spectacular.  I definitely walked away from this book with a few new ideas in my head.  I can’t wait to put them to use.

Cons:

There weren’t many problems that stood out to me, but I still wanted to give a well-rounded review, so I started to nit-pick.  As much as I love complicated plots, perhaps Mr. Davis is TOO good at what he does.  I did find myself having some trouble keeping track of certain elements that were important later in the story.  For someone who struggles with following some storylines (like my sister) this could end up being a serious problem.

Also, as much as I loved the character development, I felt like Bonnie’s character seemed too naive in places.  Something that Bonnie didn’t understand in the development of the story would seem obvious to me, so I became slightly annoyed at her ignorance.  And to defer claims that I understood things better because I was reading both Billy and Bonnie’s side of the story at once, I must remind people that I read Bonnie’s story first, all the way through to the end, and that it was only after I finished reading Bonnie’s story did I go back to read Billy’s story.

My Overall thoughts:

I think it’s pretty clear.  I liked the book.  A lot.  And I can’t wait to get my hands on the third one.  Any peevish thorns that nibbled at my enjoyment were easily overlooked in light of the book's thrilling content.  Nit-picking doesn't hold a candle to all this book has going for it.

I think I’ll give this book a 5 out of 5.  So worth the read.

(I received this book on the 13^th of June from AMG publishers.  I was not required to give a positive review.  The thoughts and views of this book review are completely my own.)