Hello there, my friends!
I just wanted to take a quick moment to let all of you know that I've set up a promotion for this weekend. On Friday (March 23) my very first book, "The Threshold Child," will be available to download for FREE on Amazon! Then on Saturday (March 24) the first book of my current series, "Fire Sower," will be available to download for FREE on Amazon! Two great deals! Please help me to spread the word. Don't let anyone you know pass up on this opportunity!
Callie's Circumlocution
Thursday, March 22, 2018
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Flame Singer is LIVE!
Today's the day, my friends! My newest book is available for purchase on Amazon. Please help me to spread the word, and be sure to let me know what you think of this next step in Idris's journey!
https://www.amazon.com/Flame-Singer-Fire-Sower-Book-ebook/dp/B078P9VR7X/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
https://www.amazon.com/Flame-Singer-Fire-Sower-Book-ebook/dp/B078P9VR7X/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Flame Singer Preview: Chapter Two
My newest book is scheduled to be published on December 30th! Are you excited? Are you telling everyone you know about how excited you are? Are you offering to buy copies of "Fire Sower" for all your friends so they can get excited for the sequel with you? :) I hope the answer to all those questions is 'yes!'
Here's another preview chapter to help get all of you excited with me. If you haven't read the other previews, click here to begin. Otherwise, enjoy!
Here's another preview chapter to help get all of you excited with me. If you haven't read the other previews, click here to begin. Otherwise, enjoy!
Chapter Two: Favorable Tides
Few people were out and about so
early in the day. The small group crossed the grounds of the military compound
without incident.
Idris’s glance slid across a pair
of soldiers standing guard near the outer wall. He recognized one of them as a
young man who had come from the same village as Idris. Meic’s expression was a
mixture of curiosity and resentment as he watched Idris walk by. Idris gave him
a wide grin as they passed.
Meic’s eyes narrowed and he
determinedly turned away, as if indicating to Idris that he didn’t care what
the other was doing. Idris knew it was childish to goad Meic, but he enjoyed
doing it anyway.
I
hope that boy does not get into trouble while we are away, Iona commented.
Idris was taken aback by her
concern. Do you think it likely?
Iona considered her words
carefully. I think that youth are eager
to prove their worth, and they do not often count the cost.
Idris waited for her to go on, but
she fell silent. Her statement left Idris feeling unsettled, but he pushed the
sensation away. He knew he needed to focus on his present situation instead of
what Meic might do in the future.
Cowan led them down the path that
stretched through the city of Marath and down to the harbor. Idris felt his
stomach clench as he realized where they were heading. He had only been on a
boat once before in his life. It had not left a favorable impression.
Idris cleared his throat,
addressing his leader. “Do we have to travel by ship?”
Cowan’s sharp eyes rested on the
young man and a flicker of amusement passed over them. “Afraid of the ocean,
young farmer?”
Idris’s face flushed. “No,” he
answered quickly. “But the motion of the water makes me… ill.”
Cowan nodded in understanding. “I
have some herbs you can chew to help with that. A ship will get us to our
destination in half the time it would take traveling by land.”
Idris said no more, but the sinking
feeling didn’t go away. He knew that they were in a hurry, but it was almost
worth it to him to take the extra time and avoid the ocean.
Unlike the sleeping city, the
harbor was a bustle of activity. Fishermen were bringing their boats into the
docks, their nets filled with the day’s catch. Merchants were setting up their
booths for the day. Impoverished men and women hurried forward to offer their
services—doing any work that needed to be done in exchange for a fish or two.
“Which ship are we seeking?” asked
Aherin, glancing down the long row of docks.
To Idris’s surprise, Hildar was the
one that answered.
“That one,” she pointed.
Most of the ships in the harbor
looked sturdy and purely functional, made of weathered wood blackened with
pitch. The vessel that Hildar pointed out looked as different from the others
as a horse did from a pig.
The design was sleek and beautiful,
clearly made for speed. The wood was lacquered to look red, with dark green
accents painted along the railing and masts. The name of the ship was painted
in gold on the side. The letters were elaborate, and it took Idris—who had only
recently learned how to read—several seconds to figure out what it said.
Dagmar
“Is that one of your family’s
ships?” Aherin asked Hildar.
Her expression was rather rigid as
she replied, “It is mine.”
“You own a ship?” Idris was unable
to keep the disbelief from his voice.
A faint flush colored Hildar’s
cheeks. “It was a gift from my grandmother when I came of age.”
Two footmen in livery stood at the
bottom of the gangplank, their backs straight as nails. They gave elaborate
bows as Hildar approached; she nodded absently in acknowledgement.
“Who is Dagmar?” Idris asked,
staring at the gleaming letters.
Hildar stiffened, but didn’t turn
as she muttered, “She was my younger sister.”
The young woman hurriedly marched
up the gangplank, avoiding any further questions. Idris could have kicked
himself for his thoughtless question. His face burned with shame at the
inadvertent pain he had caused Hildar. Aherin shot Idris a sympathetic glance
before following Captain Cowan onto the ship.
Idris was reluctant to leave solid
ground, but he knew that he would be scolded if he delayed them needlessly. He
clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, walking forward as if to his own
execution.
Hildar was standing just at the top
of the gangplank, waiting for the approach of a stocky man in a tidy uniform of
green and red. His black hair was streaked with grey, falling loosely around
his shoulders. His brown eyes crinkled around the edges, as if he habitually
squinted.
“My Lady Hildar, welcome to your
vessel,” he said in a brusque tone.
“Thank you, Captain Morn,” Hildar
responded carelessly. “I trust all is in order.”
“The tides are with us, m’lady,”
the ship captain answered. “We can depart at your command.”
“Have the horses been brought
aboard?” Cowan inquired.
“Yes, sir,” answered Morn.
“Prepare to set sail immediately,”
Hildar ordered.
“Very good, m’lady,” Morn
acknowledged with a bow. “Shall I have Lennon show you to your quarters?”
The sea captain gestured to a young
man standing just behind him. The youth had curly brown hair and liquid brown
eyes, with his intense gaze fixed on Hildar’s face.
Hildar waved her hand as she
brushed the suggestion aside. “I know my way,” she said, walking away without
looking at the young man.
Lennon’s lips tightened and anger
flashed through his eyes. The emotion quickly passed, leaving his expression
calm. “I doubt any of you know where
to go,” he said with a small smile. “Follow me.”
As they walked, he introduced
himself. “I am Lennon, the second-in-command on this fine vessel. If there is
anything you need during your journey, please feel free to ask for my
assistance.”
“You are quite young to have such a
post,” Cowan observed shrewdly.
Lennon nodded amiably. “Yes, it was
quite an honor to have Lady Hildar ask for my service.”
“She requested you for the
position?” Aherin asked with a sly smile creeping across his face.
“She did,” confirmed Lennon. “I
have known Lady Hildar since we were children. I suppose she wanted to help an
old friend begin his career.”
“That probably did not put you in
the favor of other sailors,” growled the captain of the Royal Guard.
Lennon shrugged. “If there were any
hard feelings in the beginning, I have since proved my worth.”
The young man led them to the aft
of the ship where a cabin sat on the deck. A set of stairs led to the top of
the cabin, and Idris could see the ship’s wheel located at the far end. The
nearest door of the cabin had gold letters painted on the red door that read Captain. Lennon led the small group
around the side to another red door, which he opened without ceremony.
“Lady Hildar’s room is around the
back,” Lennon explained. “These will be your quarters during the journey.”
Idris stepped through the door and
looked around the room. It wasn’t spacious, but it was comfortably furnished. A
pair of bunk beds were attached to the wall in the far right corner of the
room, and a hammock had been strung up in the opposite corner. Drawers had been
built into the base of the bottom bed, where they could place their belongings.
A small looking glass was mounted on the wall, a pair of padded chairs were
bolted to the floor, and an enclosed case held four books—a clear sign of the
luxury of the vessel. The one window in the room looked out to the foredeck,
where Idris could see the sailors preparing to cast off.
“Is there anything I can get for
you?” asked Lennon politely.
Cowan shook his grizzled head. “No,
this should be just fine.”
Lennon gave a brisk nod. “Then, I
will leave you to get settled.” He exited the room, closing the door behind
him.
Captain Cowan sat down on the
bottom bunk, pulling out one of the drawers to put his things away. That left
the two young men to decide between them who would get the other bed.
“I do not mind sleeping in the
hammock,” Idris said quickly.
Aherin shrugged. “I do not mind
either.”
Idris gave a small laugh. “What I
mean is that I would be happy to take the hammock. I slept in one for most of
my childhood, so it is quite comfortable to me.”
Aherin smiled. “Very well.”
The ship gave a sudden lurch and
Idris went down on one knee. He felt the blood drain from his face as the
motion sickness set in.
We
have not yet left the dock and already you are ready to lose your stomach,
Iona said with a tangible chuckle in her voice.
“I think I need some fresh air,”
Idris blurted as he rushed for the door.
He didn’t stop until he ran into
the railing, clutching it with both hands and clenching his jaw shut. He took
several deep breaths through his nose and closed his eyes, willing his head to
stop spinning.
Marlais
loved the sea, Iona said softly. He
said reminded him of his home.
The partisan rarely spoke of her
former master—the pain of his loss was still too recent for her—so it caught
Idris off guard to have her volunteer such information. He was always eager to
learn more about the legendary Marlais Dragonspear, even in the midst of
feeling ill.
“His home?” Idris asked, his eyes
still closed tight against the waves of sickness that rolled over his body.
Marlais
was born in a small village along the coast. Whenever he could not sleep at
night, he would think of the sound of ocean waves and it would soothe him.
Idris found himself focusing on the
sound of the water below. “It is a nice sound,” he admitted.
His
father was a ship captain and Marlais rarely saw him as a child. As a result,
Marlais developed an irrational resentment of all boats. But he always loved
the sea.
Idris couldn’t help but smile. Iona
made Marlais seem so ordinary, in
spite of the amazing stories that were told about him.
“I thought he was the son of a
banished warlord,” the young man commented.
Iona snorted. Hardly, she said in an irritated tone. His mother was part of the local gentry, but she was cut off from her
family when she decided to marry a sailor. She lived a life of poverty and
rarely saw her husband after they wed.
Idris’s brow contracted. “That is
sad,” he said quietly.
Yes,
it is, agreed Iona.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Idris asked.
To
prove a point.
“What point?” he urged.
That
you are only as sick on water as you choose to be, farmer.
Idris was startled by her blunt
words. “What?”
Open
your eyes.
Idris complied and saw that the ship
had pulled away from the harbor without him noticing. The Dagmar was sailing smoothly into the open water.
He laughed. “You told me about
Marlais to distract me.”
Yes,
and it worked, Iona said smugly.
The motion of the ship began to
grow with their increasing speed, causing Idris’s stomach to rebel.
Stop
thinking about it, Iona ordered sharply.
“I cannot help it,” Idris moaned.
You
are a weak and foolish farm boy, Iona reprimanded.
Idris didn’t dispute her statement.
“Exactly,” he said through clenched teeth, “and farm boys belong on land.”
Perhaps
you should go lay in your hammock and pretend the rocking has nothing to do
with the ocean. Iona’s voice was laden with disgust.
Idris was quite willing to follow
her suggestion. But not before he emptied his stomach into the rushing water
below.
Friday, December 1, 2017
Flame Singer Book Cover
I always get so excited when I see the final product of my book cover! I've worked with such talented artists for all of my books, and I'm grateful that they're still willing to work with me. Haha! So, here is the cover for "Flame Singer" which is my newest book coming out at the end of this month. The artist is the amazing Dustin Foran, who did the art for "Fire Sower" too. Enjoy!
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Flame Singer Preview: Chapter One
Here's another sneak peek to whet your appetite for my newest book! As you probably already know, it is the sequel to "Fire Sower" and it is planned to be released within the next month. As always, I love getting feedback from readers, so tell me what you think so far! And, of course, help me spread the word.
If you haven't read the previous preview, click here.
If you haven't read the previous preview, click here.
Chapter One: Leave Taking
Idris’s eyes were already open when
the knock sounded at his door. In spite of Captain Cowan’s urging that he get
some rest, Idris had been unable to sleep. He had heard the soft sound of
footsteps approaching from down the hall.
“Idris?” a familiar voice called.
He sat up immediately. “Just a
moment, sir.”
Idris pulled on his boots and
walked across the room to open the door. Captain Cowan stood on the other side,
his heavily scarred face pinched and weary.
Idris straightened his scarlet
tunic. The dragon and starburst embroidered in gold on his chest glimmered in
the lamplight. “Are we going to see King Nikolas now?” he asked his superior
with more confidence than he felt.
Cowan shook his grizzled head. “I
have already spoken to the king.”
Idris was secretly relieved. He
suddenly understood why the captain of the Royal Guard looked so harried. “What
did he say?”
“He has given his blessing,” the
old soldier answered shortly.
It was clear to Idris that it
hadn’t been as simple as that, but he knew better than to pry for details. King
Nikolas the Bold was a warrior in every sense of the word, and he never gave
ground without a fight. Captain Cowan had likely engaged in a lengthy argument
in order to gain the king’s approval.
Idris felt a surge of anxiety as
his thoughts naturally turned to the journey they were about to take—the reason
they had needed the king’s blessing. Captain Cowan and the three youngest
members of the Royal Guard were about to depart from Marath for an unknown
length of time during a turbulent period in the king’s capital city. There were
less than a dozen members of the Royal Guard to begin with. Losing almost half
of their number would leave the royal family more vulnerable than any of them
would like.
Yet, it had to be done. If they did
not undertake the journey, they would lose one of their number permanently.
Cowan handed Idris a bundle.
“Change your clothing.”
“Yes, sir,” Idris answered
automatically.
The captain walked away and Idris
closed the door to his room. He set the bundle on his bed before unwrapping it.
He found it contained the clothes he was expected to wear. The tunic was brown
and nondescript, as was the rest of the ensemble. It could have been worn by
just about anyone, which was probably why Cowan had selected it. The belt that
went around the waist had a couple of pouches attached to it. Idris filled them
with items that would be of use as they traveled—a flint, a small knife, a
medical kit.
Idris changed his clothes, then
tidied his topknot of black hair. When he was finished, he pick up the weapon
that had gained him admittance into the king’s most elite group of soldiers.
It was a partisan, with a black
lacquered shaft about six feet in length and the bottom capped in etched steel.
The top of the polearm was sculpted steel overlaid with gold and jewels to form
a dragon’s head, and the blade looked like a tongue of flame issuing from the
dragon’s mouth. Idris admired the beauty of the priceless weapon, just as he
always did when he set eyes on it.
The craftsmanship of the weapon was
extraordinary, and the detailed expression on the dragon’s face made it look
alive. The glittering rubies of the scales and the sapphires of the eyes were
so bright they almost glowed. Idris knew that was due largely to the power of
the weapon.
Is
it time, farmer?
The voice sounded in his mind like
a familiar melody.
“Yes, Iona,” Idris answered aloud.
“It is time.”
The partisan—like all magical
items—was sentient and worked in partnership with Idris. Not long ago they
could barely exchange a civil conversation, but now Idris was pleased to
acknowledge that they were friends.
Idris gently pulled a fitted
leather covering over the head of the partisan, tying it closed. The cover hid
the riches from view. There was no way to hide that he was carrying a polearm,
but onlookers would not suspect its true worth.
Idris attached the partisan into a
holder which he then strapped to his back. He glanced around the room to see if
there was anything else worth taking, pausing as he looked at the mantel over
the fireplace.
When he had first come to Marath to
train with the Royal Guard, his family had given him a bundle of gifts. Among
the items was a chain of colorful yarn with beads woven into it—each bead
representing a member of his family. The family chain was a traditional gift to
those who left home, so they could symbolically carry their family with them as
they traveled. Idris picked up his family chain and tucked it into the pouch on
his belt.
How
sentimental, Iona commented. Her voice had a teasing tone, but it was
affectionate as well.
“I do not know when I will be back
again,” Idris explained needlessly.
With a final glance around his
room, he walked to the door and stepped out to the hallway beyond. A small
group of Royal Guards stood waiting near the exit. Captain Cowan was speaking
quietly to Drusi, his second in command, and Farah, Idris’s instructor. Aherin,
one of the new members of the Royal Guard, stood slightly to the side talking
with Demas and Palti.
Idris’s eyes fell on Hildar, a
young woman with the chestnut hair and fair skin that told of noble bloodlines.
Her delicate face was pale and her eyes were weary with strain. She looked at
Idris and nodded in greeting, a show of their recent friendship.
He smiled in return, but his
stomach gripped with anxiety. Hildar was the bearer of a weapon of power that
had been corrupted at some point in its history. That dagger was fighting to
take control of her. Idris had seen firsthand how destructive Hildar’s weapon
could be. He had no desire to witness it again.
His eyes automatically dropped to
the belt around Hildar’s waist, where she normally kept her dagger.
“Where is Savion?” he asked in what
he hoped was a casual tone.
Hildar’s hand moved to her belt,
clutching at the empty air. Her expression became one of chagrin as she became
aware of her reflexive action. She cleared her throat and determinedly dropped
her hand to her side. “Captain Cowan has sealed the dagger in a special case.”
Hildar gestured as she spoke.
Idris’s eyes followed the motion to the case in Cowan’s hands. It was long and
narrow, just the right size for a dagger. Idris couldn’t tell what the box was
made of, but it looked like crystal. The case looked to be solid, without seams
or hinges. If the outline of the dagger hadn’t been visible, Idris wouldn’t
have known that the rectangle was anything more than solid rock.
Captain Cowan overheard the
exchange between Idris and Hildar. He turned to address the group. “Now that we
are all assembled, I shall share with you the plan for our journey.”
An expectant hush settled over the
hall.
The captain of the Royal Guard held
up the crystal case in his hand. “This is a special item taken from the king’s
personal treasury. It was made during the time of Lyndham, the first king of
Calaris, and has been handed down through the royal family. It acts as a
barrier around magical items, rendering them useless until released. In this
way, Hildar’s dagger will be contained during our journey.”
Idris felt as though a large rock
had been lifted from his chest. He was relieved to know that Savion couldn’t
hurt Hildar anymore.
Cowan continued. “King Nikolas has
given me permission to take Hildar, Idris, and Aherin on a journey to reforge
this dagger. I have been told that it is a dangerous process, and we are not
guaranteed success. However, I believe that it is necessary for us to try.”
Several heads nodded in agreement.
“Drusi is in charge while I am
away,” he went on. “The remaining Royal Guards are to stay vigilant in
protecting the royal family. We know that there are traitors in the Water
Palace, and it is likely that war with Roshum is approaching. It is not
possible to be too cautious when it comes to the safety of the king and his
heirs.”
Idris could see that Cowan’s
warnings were unnecessary. Every member of the Royal Guard took a solemn oath
to protect the royal family. The fervor of that vow shone in each soldier’s
eyes. In fact, the reason that Jerin and Roth were not present for this meeting
was because Cowan had ordered that the king never be left unattended.
“Where will you go?” Drusi asked
quietly. “The art of forging weapons of power was lost long ago.”
Cowan gave a small smile. “There
are people who may know where to find what has been lost.”
If Drusi was bothered by the
cryptic answer, she gave no indication. Instead, she nodded as if he had said
exactly what she expected to hear. “I wish you luck on your journey.”
Her statement signaled the end of
the brief meeting, and everyone broke into smaller groups to say goodbye.
Demas and Palti walked over to
Idris. The former clapped Idris heartily on the shoulder.
“I wish I was coming with you,”
Demas said regretfully. “Adventure and glory awaits you, while I stay here to
keep an eye on the royal children.”
Idris grinned at his friend. “I
think you mean that mud and snow and scant rations await me, while you get
comfort and hot meals.”
Palti chuckled. “He has a point,
Demas.”
“Just think of how the ladies will
swoon when you recount your harrowing tales of blizzards and danger,” Demas
pressed on with a theatrical tone of voice.
Idris felt a small catch in his
throat as he laughed. “I will miss you, my friend.”
Demas’s expression became more
sincere. “I wish you safety on your journey.”
Palti reached out and gripped
Idris’s hand. “As do I, duwado.”
The large man’s affectionate
nickname for Idris meant ‘little brother’ in his native language. He truly
treated Idris like a younger brother, which was something that Idris treasured.
Being away from his family had been a difficult transition, but the friends he
had made during that time had made it bearable.
Captain Cowan gestured to his three
youngest Royal Guards. “Let us waste no time. Our ship awaits.”
Do
not worry, Iona said comfortingly. You
will see them again, in this life or the next.
Idris knew she meant well, but her
words were anything but comforting.
He turned and followed his
companions as they walked out of the quarters of the Royal Guards and into the
winter’s cold.
***For the next preview chapter, click here.
***For the next preview chapter, click here.
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Flame Singer Preview: Prologue
Hello, dear readers! I feel bad that I've had to push back the release date for my newest book, so I thought I'd start posting preview chapters a little earlier than usual. I hope it will tide you over for now. Just know that I'm hard at work and we'll be ready to go soon! Until then, I hope you enjoy this sneak peek.
Prologue
“Where did you get this?”
The harsh question caused Arik to
straighten his back. “It has been in my family for generations,” he said
defensively.
The questioner grunted dubiously,
but said nothing further for several moments. He stared into the leather pouch
as if it simultaneously contained the greatest treasure in the world and the
thing he feared most.
Arik studied the giant form before
him—a man doubled over from habitual stooping. Arik wondered if that was from
his work at the forge or from the years of suffering that had clearly broken
the man.
“Has it ever been touched?” the
former Forger asked next.
Arik’s shoulder jerked guiltily,
but it went unseen by the giant man staring into the pouch. “No,” Arik lied.
Arik’s grandfather had given him
the leather pouch when Arik had come of age. It was a family heirloom—their
greatest pride. Arik had not believed that it was truly the eye of a chimera.
After all, the creatures had been extinct since his father was a child.
His grandfather had warned him
never to touch it, and so Arik had first dumped the lump of metal-looking
material on his bed. It looked so ordinary. So… disappointing.
But then, he had reached out to run
his fingers over the smooth surface.
Arik shuddered involuntarily at the
memory.
It had been like an explosion of
fireworks in his mind, full of vivid colors and strong emotions. The rush of
adrenaline was unlike anything Arik had ever experienced before.
Over the next few years, Arik spent
most of his private time holding the chimera eye. He reveled in the flow of raw
magic that emanated from the stone. He obsessed over the possibility of
harnessing that power. He studied every known text concerning the forging of
magical items, searching endlessly for the elusive Forgers.
Finally, his searching had paid
off.
“What do you want from me?” the
former Forger asked, tearing his gaze away from the contents of the pouch.
“I want you to turn that into a weapon,”
Arik answered promptly.
The large man’s expression
darkened. “I am no longer a Forger, boy. You should have been told that by
whoever gave you my name.”
Arik wrestled down the desperation
in his voice. “But surely you still know how it is done,” he said quietly.
The former Forger’s brow contracted
sharply. “Yes,” he whispered, “I remember.”
Arik switched to a soothing tone,
as if speaking to a wild animal. “It would be such a waste to let this
beautiful material remain as it is. It was meant to be something more.”
The giant man nodded slowly. “He
has been waiting…”
Arik wasn’t sure what the Forger
meant, but he could sense that he was close to getting what he had wanted for
so long.
“I should not,” the man murmured to
himself, “but it truly would be such a waste of the sacrifice that was made.”
Arik held his breath, waiting for
the Forger to convince himself it was the right thing to do. Arik knew it was
only a matter of time. All of his research had shown that the Forgers had
strict beliefs regarding magical materials.
“I will do it,” the large man said
finally. “But I do not do it for you. I do it for him,” he nodded to the pouch.
Arik’s rush of elation was so
powerful that he could hardly contain himself. It didn’t matter to him what the
Forger’s motivations were. All that mattered was that he would finally have a
weapon of power. He would be able to wield the magic that had been at his
fingertips for so long.
And then, nothing would stop him…
“Will you give it a name, like all
those other famous magical weapons?” Arik asked excitedly.
“He already has a name,” the former
Forger said softly. “His name is Savion.”
***To read the next preview chapter, click here.
***To read the next preview chapter, click here.
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