You are viewing necia_phoenix

Indipendent Publishing

Zander
I have several friends who are indi publishing their work. I am trying to comprise a list of their sites to help boost the signal.



http://www.starcatcherpub.com/

http://jjwestendarp.blogspot.com/


This is a list I will be updating regularly.

And here is a freebe

Return to Redlin. This is the bit from the site:

Ginger returned to Redlin after her failed marriage and buried herself in a calm life, working for the Senior Center during the day and as a clerk at the Gas and More at night. But when the high school bad boy, Derrick Weston, returns after ten years to attend his grandfather's funeral, things take off in ways she didn't expect.

Old rivalries and new robberies put the two in close contact -- whether they want it or not.


I read this story and couldn't stop till the end, which was satisfactory (everything was wrapped up very nicely, good solid plot) and saddened me. I wanted more of these characters. The characters are well written, I have this urge to ask Zette what happened next. :P Anyways, if you want a lighthearted romance which will leave you smiling I highly recommend this novella.

Planning

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

J.A. Marlow gave me this project planner back in Jan, but I kinda forgot all about it. Sat night I dusted it off and started planning out projects, setting dates and OCDing on what I want to get done this year. I may have overloaded myself :P but I have a clear cut idea of what I want to get done over the next…two years 0.0.

You read that right, two years.  Just take a look at my Series List and you’ll see I have more than enough planned stories to write XD (Yes J.A. Marlow, this is ALL YOUR FAULT!!!  **shakes fist**)  :P

The rest of this year needs to be an Avaria year, and next will be the dragons. I’ve also got smaller projects that I want to put out in between the larger ones. I need to get this ball rolling. I’ve pushed The Bastard Prince back to September at the latest. I have the project The Fallen staring patiently at me waiting for me to finish the edits and put it up for sale. The plan is to do that for this May.

I also have some digi art plans, and plans to do a really awesome computer build (think alienware, but homemade, it is going to fucking ROCK!) so there’s a lot to think about, aside from the family shtuff. I am still around, have just been drowning in life stuff.

Hope yall have a great Monday!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Just an update

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Life kinda got topsyturvy lately and that has negatively affected my writing, blogging and social media.I am still learning how to plow through it all. I’ve pushed Zander’s release date back to June or July and have to sit down and rethink a lot of my writing goals. There have been a few life changes and I need to adjust when I plan on putting things out.

I’ll update with those changes when I finalize them.

N

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Old story revisited

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

For some reason I started thinking about this old Avaria story which disappeared on a lost hard drive years ago. I decided to try to re-write the intro (I don’t remember how much of it I had actually written) and I have to say, rough as it is, I like this version. Have some slightly raw words;

(quick note, this story will actually pick up right where the prior story, The Darkening Marsh, left off.)

~*~

Time was suspended. Somewhere in the distance something dripped. A slow and steady sound, something to listen to besides ones own heartbeat. Zindith drifted in and out of consciousness, on waves of pain reminding him he was still alive. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breathing harsh. Whispers echoed in the dark caverns, memories of voices long since silenced. He heard a groan, realized belatedly that it was his own. He opened his eyes, fighting to stay awake. Darkness closed in around him, and he noticed a faint glow nearby. He frowned and turned to look closer at the glow. Pain shot through his body, a throbbing burning settled along the left side of his face and torso.

Memories rushed at him, who he was and how he’d gotten there, he groaned again. Trapped between enemies, he’d acted, tackling the Slayer, knocking them both over the edge of the ravine. How far had he fallen? The Slayer vanished, opening a rift and sliding into another realm leaving him plummeting towards the river below.

Zindith remembered hitting the cold water, the shock of it sent waves of pain through him. Then nothing. He rolled over, gasping for breath and fighting a churning stomach. Sand, he was on sand. He pushed himself up, peering around. He didn’t remember anything beyond hitting the water. He was far underground, deep in the Labyrinth, but where? How long had he been in the river? He didn’t know. He glanced back at the glowing. Thin ropes of pale green glowing things hung from above. The light they provided was faint, almost useless.

He ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply. Musty, moldy, with the faint metallic scent that permeated everything in the Shadowlands. He coughed and groaned. His sides hurt, bruised ribs? Cracked? He hoped nothing was broken. There were no healers in this place.

“Thank the gods for being half telaxian.” He murmured. His voice was loud in the cave, echoing and joining the faint whispers in the distance.

He closed his eyes fighting a wave of dizzy, and heard the singing. A woman’s voice, echoing through the tunnels, singing a song in a language he’d never heard. The tone was haunting, full of loss and deep longing. It tugged at him. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying a bit. He was tough. Like his brothers and sister. Like his father. A little fall wasn’t going to stop him. He gritted his teeth, his stomach doing dangerous flops. What little he’d eaten before needed to stay where it was. He had no rations, no idea of what was edible in this place. He couldn’t afford to lose his lunch. Then the song changed in pitch, lower, angry. He listened, focusing completely on it, willing his body to obey. Now was not the time to be ill. He wanted to find the singer. No, he needed to find her, though why he wasn’t sure.

He quickly took stock. His pack was gone, lost in the river no doubt. With it were the torches and the healing salve for his burns. His belt pouch, though soaked, was still firmly secured on his wide belt. He unfastened it and opened it, swearing.

He put his hand over the top and flipped it upside down, letting the water pour out. Everything in there, the herb packets, the small parchment for writing notes, all ruined. He let them drop to the sandy ground, keeping ahold of the small light orb his brother, Auron, had given him. He hoped it still worked. The glowing ropes didn’t provide enough light to see. He wiped it on his tunic, and tapped it as he’d been taught. It flared to life, sending rays of light dancing over the cave walls. He finally got a good glimpse of where he was and his stomach did another dangerous flop.

He stood on a narrow sandy beach beside the river that coiled away, disappearing into the darkness. How far from the bridge and ledge was he? He shuddered, afraid to know. He looked upriver, trying to get an idea for where he was. There wasn’t a riverbank except the strip of beach he was on. The river had carved a tunnel through the rock, sheer cliffs on either side made going back the way he came impossible. He wasn’t about to try to risk walking in the river itself. Who knew what might be lurking beneath the surface? He edged toward the sloping walls, ducking under the ropey-glowing moss. It glowed brighter the closer he got, reflecting the light of the orb. He frowned, peering at the walls. Deep in his mind he felt a tug, faint, but persistent. He moved closer, lifting the orb, hoping to get a better glimpse. There was a jagged tear in the rock, a passage leading up and away from the river. He leaned against the edge of the entry letting another wave of dizzy pass. He needed to get out, to find the singer. He dared not guess what sort of creepy crawlies were in the passage.

The tug in his mind was insistent. He needed to go into the passage. He nodded. So far it hadn’t led him wrong. It guided him to where the Slayer had hidden Mayhren, it had guided them back to the surface before the fireball. He swallowed, aware of the tightness in his left cheek, the pain that he was getting used to. He glanced back towards the river and took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his sides, and stepped into the looming darkness.

It pressed against the orb light, closing around him, blocking off all view and any hope of escape. It felt alive in some way, a malevolent presence that wasn’t willing to let him leave. He forced one foot in front of the other, trying to think of anything other than the dark. His companions, his brother, they probably thought he’d died in the fall. He’d find a way back to the surface and back to Avaria. He’d get beyond the reach of this darkness and find a way to let them know he wasn’t dead.

The passage wound its way upward, in some spots he had to tuck the orb in his tunic and climb steep slopes. With each step the tug got stronger, a pressure in his head that was almost painful.

The passage ended at a stone carved doorway though the door itself had long since rotted away. Zindith stared, disbelief and awe blocking out the pain. How long had it stood silent in the dark, waiting for its masters to return? The tug pulsed, pain shot through his head. He gasped for breath, and edged closer to the doorway. He stepped through the doorway, wishing he had a weapon. Who knew what might be in this place? Stepping away from the door, the light of the orb illuminated an ages old walkway carved into the sides of immense cliffs. Guardrails once stood along the far edge, but most of those had long worn away. All that were left were posts that would have held the railings. Overhead he could see the orb’s light glinting off of what might have been metal chandeliers or some sort of lighting devices.

“Impossible.” He murmured, his voice bouncing off the walls. In the distance, to his left, a stone bridge spanned the chasm, the far end concealed in the blanket of darkness. The tug pulled him in that direction. Bemused and in awe he went where it led, noting the archways that dotted the sides of the chasm, and the passageway. Who had carved these ways? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The rahaun hadn’t lived underground. He didn’t recall any other legends that hinted that these passages existed. His heart pounded and the tug became a pounding at his temples. It stopped, as suddenly as it started, when he reached the bridge.

He stared up at the steps leading across the chasm, his heart loud in his ears. The steps led to a wide flat platform, then a walkway arched back downward to a second platform from which another set of stairs led, he hoped, to the other side. He couldn’t tell. The orb’s light cut off, unable to penetrate the wall of dark ahead of him.

He took another look around. The archways, with their passages gaping at him, gave him the shakes. He could almost imagine things just on the other side of the dark, watching him, waiting to strike when the orb flickered out. He shook it off, looked back at the stone bridge. He felt it, briefly. The tug, gently pulling him towards the bridge. He stepped onto the stone bridge, testing it. Who knew how long this had stood, alone, in the dark underground of the Shadowlands. It felt firm.

He  went up the steps, wishing there was a rail of some sort. When he reached the first platform he got a glimpse of the other side and smiled. Another passage, but it veered upward towards steps coiling towards the distant ceiling. His ticket out, perhaps? He hesitated, glancing back the way he’d come, listening. His own breathing was loud in the hush. No echos, no drips, no bodiless voices lamenting in a dead language. Silent. The caverns were holding their breath, the darkness waiting for a misstep. He shook himself. Too many knocks to the head.

Zindith wiped his hand on his breeches. He felt clammy, ill, and dizzy. He hurried across the wide arch toward the second platform. He felt the tremble through his boots, and swore. A cracking sound echoed off the walls of the chasm. He swore darting towards the platform as he felt the bridge beneath his feet crumbling. He jumped, landing on his stomach on the platform the air knocked from his lungs as the arch crumbled, clattering far below. He barely caught his breath, starting to pull himself up when the platform shuddered. He swore, the crack of shattering rock deafening. The platform dropped out from beneath him and he was falling again. He closed his eyes, there was no river below to save him. The fall halted and pain exploded across his jaw and nose as he hit the stone face first. Darkness wrapped around him.

 ~*~

 Part 2

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Old story revisited

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

For some reason I started thinking about this old Avaria story which disappeared on a lost hard drive years ago. I decided to try to re-write the intro (I don’t remember how much of it I had actually written) and I have to say, rough as it is, I like this version. Have some slightly raw words;

(quick note, this story will actually pick up right where the prior story, The Darkening Marsh, left off.)

~*~

Time was suspended. Somewhere in the distance something dripped. A slow and steady sound, something to listen to besides ones own heartbeat. Zindith drifted in and out of consciousness, on waves of pain reminding him he was still alive. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breathing harsh. Whispers echoed in the dark caverns, memories of voices long since silenced. He heard a groan, realized belatedly that it was his own. He opened his eyes, fighting to stay awake. Darkness closed in around him, and he noticed a faint glow nearby. He frowned and turned to look closer at the glow. Pain shot through his body, a throbbing burning settled along the left side of his face and torso.

Memories rushed at him, who he was and how he’d gotten there, he groaned again. Trapped between enemies, he’d acted, tackling the Slayer, knocking them both over the edge of the ravine. How far had he fallen? The Slayer vanished, opening a rift and sliding into another realm leaving him plummeting towards the river below.

Zindith remembered hitting the cold water, the shock of it sent waves of pain through him. Then nothing. He rolled over, gasping for breath and fighting a churning stomach. Sand, he was on sand. He pushed himself up, peering around. He didn’t remember anything beyond hitting the water. He was far underground, deep in the Labyrinth, but where? How long had he been in the river? He didn’t know. He glanced back at the glowing. Thin ropes of pale green glowing things hung from above. The light they provided was faint, almost useless.

He ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply. Musty, moldy, with the faint metallic scent that permeated everything in the Shadowlands. He coughed and groaned. His sides hurt, bruised ribs? Cracked? He hoped nothing was broken. There were no healers in this place.

“Thank the gods for being half telaxian.” He murmured. His voice was loud in the cave, echoing and joining the faint whispers in the distance.

He closed his eyes fighting a wave of dizzy, and heard the singing. A woman’s voice, echoing through the tunnels, singing a song in a language he’d never heard. The tone was haunting, full of loss and deep longing. It tugged at him. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying a bit. He was tough. Like his brothers and sister. Like his father. A little fall wasn’t going to stop him. He gritted his teeth, his stomach doing dangerous flops. What little he’d eaten before needed to stay where it was. He had no rations, no idea of what was edible in this place. He couldn’t afford to lose his lunch. Then the song changed in pitch, lower, angry. He listened, focusing completely on it, willing his body to obey. Now was not the time to be ill. He wanted to find the singer. No, he needed to find her, though why he wasn’t sure.

He quickly took stock. His pack was gone, lost in the river no doubt. With it were the torches and the healing salve for his burns. His belt pouch, though soaked, was still firmly secured on his wide belt. He unfastened it and opened it, swearing.

He put his hand over the top and flipped it upside down, letting the water pour out. Everything in there, the herb packets, the small parchment for writing notes, all ruined. He let them drop to the sandy ground, keeping ahold of the small light orb his brother, Auron, had given him. He hoped it still worked. The glowing ropes didn’t provide enough light to see. He wiped it on his tunic, and tapped it as he’d been taught. It flared to life, sending rays of light dancing over the cave walls. He finally got a good glimpse of where he was and his stomach did another dangerous flop.

He stood on a narrow sandy beach beside the river that coiled away, disappearing into the darkness. How far from the bridge and ledge was he? He shuddered, afraid to know. He looked upriver, trying to get an idea for where he was. There wasn’t a riverbank except the strip of beach he was on. The river had carved a tunnel through the rock, sheer cliffs on either side made going back the way he came impossible. He wasn’t about to try to risk walking in the river itself. Who knew what might be lurking beneath the surface? He edged toward the sloping walls, ducking under the ropey-glowing moss. It glowed brighter the closer he got, reflecting the light of the orb. He frowned, peering at the walls. Deep in his mind he felt a tug, faint, but persistent. He moved closer, lifting the orb, hoping to get a better glimpse. There was a jagged tear in the rock, a passage leading up and away from the river. He leaned against the edge of the entry letting another wave of dizzy pass. He needed to get out, to find the singer. He dared not guess what sort of creepy crawlies were in the passage.

The tug in his mind was insistent. He needed to go into the passage. He nodded. So far it hadn’t led him wrong. It guided him to where the Slayer had hidden Mayhren, it had guided them back to the surface before the fireball. He swallowed, aware of the tightness in his left cheek, the pain that he was getting used to. He glanced back towards the river and took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his sides, and stepped into the looming darkness.

It pressed against the orb light, closing around him, blocking off all view and any hope of escape. It felt alive in some way, a malevolent presence that wasn’t willing to let him leave. He forced one foot in front of the other, trying to think of anything other than the dark. His companions, his brother, they probably thought he’d died in the fall. He’d find a way back to the surface and back to Avaria. He’d get beyond the reach of this darkness and find a way to let them know he wasn’t dead.

The passage wound its way upward, in some spots he had to tuck the orb in his tunic and climb steep slopes. With each step the tug got stronger, a pressure in his head that was almost painful.

The passage ended at a stone carved doorway though the door itself had long since rotted away. Zindith stared, disbelief and awe blocking out the pain. How long had it stood silent in the dark, waiting for its masters to return? The tug pulsed, pain shot through his head. He gasped for breath, and edged closer to the doorway. He stepped through the doorway, wishing he had a weapon. Who knew what might be in this place? Stepping away from the door, the light of the orb illuminated an ages old walkway carved into the sides of immense cliffs. Guardrails once stood along the far edge, but most of those had long worn away. All that were left were posts that would have held the railings. Overhead he could see the orb’s light glinting off of what might have been metal chandeliers or some sort of lighting devices.

“Impossible.” He murmured, his voice bouncing off the walls. In the distance, to his left, a stone bridge spanned the chasm, the far end concealed in the blanket of darkness. The tug pulled him in that direction. Bemused and in awe he went where it led, noting the archways that dotted the sides of the chasm, and the passageway. Who had carved these ways? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The rahaun hadn’t lived underground. He didn’t recall any other legends that hinted that these passages existed. His heart pounded and the tug became a pounding at his temples. It stopped, as suddenly as it started, when he reached the bridge.

He stared up at the steps leading across the chasm, his heart loud in his ears. The steps led to a wide flat platform, then a walkway arched back downward to a second platform from which another set of stairs led, he hoped, to the other side. He couldn’t tell. The orb’s light cut off, unable to penetrate the wall of dark ahead of him.

He took another look around. The archways, with their passages gaping at him, gave him the shakes. He could almost imagine things just on the other side of the dark, watching him, waiting to strike when the orb flickered out. He shook it off, looked back at the stone bridge. He felt it, briefly. The tug, gently pulling him towards the bridge. He stepped onto the stone bridge, testing it. Who knew how long this had stood, alone, in the dark underground of the Shadowlands. It felt firm.

He  went up the steps, wishing there was a rail of some sort. When he reached the first platform he got a glimpse of the other side and smiled. Another passage, but it veered upward towards steps coiling towards the distant ceiling. His ticket out, perhaps? He hesitated, glancing back the way he’d come, listening. His own breathing was loud in the hush. No echos, no drips, no bodiless voices lamenting in a dead language. Silent. The caverns were holding their breath, the darkness waiting for a misstep. He shook himself. Too many knocks to the head.

Zindith wiped his hand on his breeches. He felt clammy, ill, and dizzy. He hurried across the wide arch toward the second platform. He felt the tremble through his boots, and swore. A cracking sound echoed off the walls of the chasm. He swore darting towards the platform as he felt the bridge beneath his feet crumbling. He jumped, landing on his stomach on the platform the air knocked from his lungs as the arch crumbled, clattering far below. He barely caught his breath, starting to pull himself up when the platform shuddered. He swore, the crack of shattering rock deafening. The platform dropped out from beneath him and he was falling again. He closed his eyes, there was no river below to save him. The fall halted and pain exploded across his jaw and nose as he hit the stone face first. Darkness wrapped around him.

 ~*~

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Old story revisited

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

For some reason I started thinking about this old Avaria story which disappeared on a lost hard drive years ago. I decided to try to re-write the intro (I don’t remember how much of it I had actually written) and I have to say, rough as it is, I like this version. Have some slightly raw words;

(quick note, this story will actually pick up right where the prior story, The Darkening Marsh, left off.)

~*~

Time was suspended. Somewhere in the distance something dripped. A slow and steady sound, something to listen to besides ones own heartbeat. Zindith drifted in and out of consciousness, on waves of pain reminding him he was still alive. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breathing harsh. Whispers echoed in the dark caverns, memories of voices long since silenced. He heard a groan, realized belatedly that it was his own. He opened his eyes, fighting to stay awake. Darkness closed in around him, and he noticed a faint glow nearby. He frowned and turned to look closer at the glow. Pain shot through his body, a throbbing burning settled along the left side of his face and torso.

Memories rushed at him, who he was and how he’d gotten there, he groaned again. Trapped between enemies, he’d acted, tackling the Slayer, knocking them both over the edge of the ravine. How far had he fallen? The Slayer vanished, opening a rift and sliding into another realm leaving him plummeting towards the river below.

Zindith remembered hitting the cold water, the shock of it sent waves of pain through him. Then nothing. He rolled over, gasping for breath and fighting a churning stomach. Sand, he was on sand. He pushed himself up, peering around. He didn’t remember anything beyond hitting the water. He was far underground, deep in the Labyrinth, but where? How long had he been in the river? He didn’t know. He glanced back at the glowing. Thin ropes of pale green glowing things hung from above. The light they provided was faint, almost useless.

He ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply. Musty, moldy, with the faint metallic scent that permeated everything in the Shadowlands. He coughed and groaned. His sides hurt, bruised ribs? Cracked? He hoped nothing was broken. There were no healers in this place.

“Thank the gods for being half telaxian.” He murmured. His voice was loud in the cave, echoing and joining the faint whispers in the distance.

He closed his eyes fighting a wave of dizzy, and heard the singing. A woman’s voice, echoing through the tunnels, singing a song in a language he’d never heard. The tone was haunting, full of loss and deep longing. It tugged at him. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying a bit. He was tough. Like his brothers and sister. Like his father. A little fall wasn’t going to stop him. He gritted his teeth, his stomach doing dangerous flops. What little he’d eaten before needed to stay where it was. He had no rations, no idea of what was edible in this place. He couldn’t afford to lose his lunch. Then the song changed in pitch, lower, angry. He listened, focusing completely on it, willing his body to obey. Now was not the time to be ill. He wanted to find the singer. No, he needed to find her, though why he wasn’t sure.

He quickly took stock. His pack was gone, lost in the river no doubt. With it were the torches and the healing salve for his burns. His belt pouch, though soaked, was still firmly secured on his wide belt. He unfastened it and opened it, swearing.

He put his hand over the top and flipped it upside down, letting the water pour out. Everything in there, the herb packets, the small parchment for writing notes, all ruined. He let them drop to the sandy ground, keeping ahold of the small light orb his brother, Auron, had given him. He hoped it still worked. The glowing ropes didn’t provide enough light to see. He wiped it on his tunic, and tapped it as he’d been taught. It flared to life, sending rays of light dancing over the cave walls. He finally got a good glimpse of where he was and his stomach did another dangerous flop.

He stood on a narrow sandy beach beside the river that coiled away, disappearing into the darkness. How far from the bridge and ledge was he? He shuddered, afraid to know. He looked upriver, trying to get an idea for where he was. There wasn’t a riverbank except the strip of beach he was on. The river had carved a tunnel through the rock, sheer cliffs on either side made going back the way he came impossible. He wasn’t about the try to risk walking in the river itself. Who knew what might be lurking beneath the surface? He edged toward the sloping walls, ducking under the ropey-glowing moss. It glowed brighter the closer he got, reflecting the light of the orb. He frowned, peering at the walls. Deep in his mind he felt a tug, faint, but persistent. He moved closer, lifting the orb, hoping to get a better glimpse. There was a jagged tear in the rock, a passage leading up and away from the river. He leaned against the edge of the entry letting another wave of dizzy pass. He needed to get out, to find the singer. He dared not guess what sort of creepy crawlies were in the passage.

The tug in his mind was insistent. He needed to go into the passage. He nodded. So far it hadn’t led him wrong. It guided him to where the Slayer had hidden Mayhren, it had guided them back to the surface before the fireball. He swallowed, aware of the tightness in his left cheek, the pain that he was getting used to. He glanced back towards the river and took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his sides, and stepped into the looming darkness.

It pressed against the orb light, closing around him, blocking off all view and any hope of escape. It felt alive in some way, a malevolent presence that wasn’t willing to let him leave. He forced one foot in front of the other, trying to think of anything other than the dark. His companions, his brother, they probably thought he’d died in the fall. He’d find a way back to the surface and back to Avaria. He’d get beyond the reach of this darkness and find a way to let them know he wasn’t dead.

The passage wound its way upward, in some spots he had to tuck the orb in his tunic and climb steep slopes. With each step the tug got stronger, a pressure in his head that was almost painful.

The passage ended at a stone carved doorway though the door itself had long since rotted away. Zindith stared, disbelief and awe blocking out the pain. How long had it stood silent in the dark, waiting for its masters to return? The tug pulsed, pain shot through his head. He gasped for breath, and edged closer to the doorway. He stepped through the doorway, wishing he had a weapon. Who knew what might be in this place? Stepping away from the door, the light of the orb illuminated an ages old walkway carved into the sides of immense cliffs. Guardrails once stood along the far edge, but most of those had long worn away. All that were left were posts that would have held the railings. Overhead he could see the orb’s light glinting off of what might have been metal chandeliers or some sort of lighting devices.

“Impossible.” He murmured, his voice bouncing off the walls. In the distance, to his left, a stone bridge spanned the chasm, the far end concealed in the blanket of darkness. The tug pulled him in that direction. Bemused and in awe he went where it led, noting the archways that dotted the sides of the chasm, and the passageway. Who had carved these ways? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The rahaun hadn’t lived underground. He didn’t recall any other legends that hinted that these passages existed. His heart pounded and the tug became a pounding at his temples. It stopped, as suddenly as it started, when he reached the bridge.

He stared up at the steps leading across the chasm, his heart loud in his ears. The steps led to a wide flat platform, then a walkway arched back downward to a second platform from which another set of stairs led, he hoped, to the other side. He couldn’t tell. The orb’s light cut off, unable to penetrate the wall of dark ahead of him.

He took another look around. The archways, with their passages gaping at him, gave him the shakes. He could almost imagine things just on the other side of the dark, watching him, waiting to strike when the orb flickered out. He shook it off, looked back at the stone bridge. He felt it, briefly. The tug, gently pulling him towards the bridge. He stepped onto the stone bridge, testing it. Who knew how long this had stood, alone, in the dark underground of the Shadowlands. It felt firm.

He  went up the steps, wishing there was a rail of some sort. When he reached the first platform he got a glimpse of the other side and smiled. Another passage, but it veered upward towards steps coiling towards the distant ceiling. His ticket out, perhaps? He hesitated, glancing back the way he’d come, listening. His own breathing was loud in the hush. No echos, no drips, no bodiless voices lamenting in a dead language. Silent. The caverns were holding their breath, the darkness waiting for a misstep. He shook himself. Too many knocks to the head.

Zindith wiped his hand on his breeches. He felt clammy, ill, and dizzy. He hurried across the wide arch toward the second platform. He felt the tremble through his boots, and swore. A cracking sound echoed off the walls of the chasm. He swore darting towards the platform as he felt the bridge beneath his feet crumbling. He jumped, landing on his stomach on the platform the air knocked from his lungs as the arch crumbled, clattering far below. He barely caught his breath, starting to pull himself up when the platform shuddered. He swore, the crack of shattering rock deafening. The platform dropped out from beneath him and he was falling again. He closed his eyes, there was no river below to save him. The fall halted and pain exploded across his jaw and nose as he hit the stone face first. Darkness wrapped around him.

 ~*~

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Old story revisited

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

For some reason I started thinking about this old Avaria story which disappeared on a lost hard drive years ago. I decided to try to re-write the intro (I don’t remember how much of it I had actually written) and I have to say, rough as it is, I like this version. Have some slightly raw words;

(quick note, this story will actually pick up right where the prior story, The Darkening Marsh, left off.)

~*~

Time was suspended. Somewhere in the distance something dripped. A slow and steady sound, something to listen to besides ones own heartbeat. Zindith drifted in and out of consciousness, on waves of pain reminding him he was still alive. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breathing harsh. Whispers echoed in the dark caverns, memories of voices long since silenced. He heard a groan, realized belatedly that it was his own. He opened his eyes, fighting to stay awake. Darkness closed in around him, and he noticed a faint glow nearby. He frowned and turned to look closer at the glow. Pain shot through his body, a throbbing burning settled along the left side of his face and torso.

Memories rushed at him, who he was and how he’d gotten there, he groaned again. Trapped between enemies, he’d acted, tackling the Slayer, knocking them both over the edge of the ravine. How far had he fallen? The Slayer vanished, opening a rift and sliding into another realm leaving him plummeting towards the river below.

Zindith remembered hitting the cold water, the shock of it sent waves of pain through him. Then nothing. He rolled over, gasping for breath and fighting a churning stomach. Sand, he was on sand. He pushed himself up, peering around. He didn’t remember anything beyond hitting the water. He was far underground, deep in the Labyrinth, but where? How long had he been in the river? He didn’t know. He glanced back at the glowing. Thin ropes of pale green glowing things hung from above. The light they provided was faint, almost useless.

He ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply. Musty, moldy, with the faint metallic scent that permeated everything in the Shadowlands. He coughed and groaned. His sides hurt, bruised ribs? Cracked? He hoped nothing was broken. There were no healers in this place.

“Thank the gods for being half telaxian.” He murmured. His voice was loud in the cave, echoing and joining the faint whispers in the distance.

He closed his eyes fighting a wave of dizzy, and heard the singing. A woman’s voice, echoing through the tunnels, singing a song in a language he’d never heard. The tone was haunting, full of loss and deep longing. It tugged at him. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying a bit. He was tough. Like his brothers and sister. Like his father. A little fall wasn’t going to stop him. He gritted his teeth, his stomach doing dangerous flops. What little he’d eaten before needed to stay where it was. He had no rations, no idea of what was edible in this place. He couldn’t afford to lose his lunch. Then the song changed in pitch, lower, angry. He listened, focusing completely on it, willing his body to obey. Now was not the time to be ill. He wanted to find the singer. No, he needed to find her, though why he wasn’t sure.

He quickly took stock. His pack was gone, lost in the river no doubt. With it were the torches and the healing salve for his burns. His belt pouch, though soaked, was still firmly secured on his wide belt. He unfastened it and opened it, swearing.

He put his hand over the top and flipped it upside down, letting the water pour out. Everything in there, the herb packets, the small parchment for writing notes, all ruined. He let them drop the the sandy ground, keeping ahold of the small light orb his brother, Auron, had given him. He hoped it still worked. The glowing ropes didn’t provide enough light to see. He wiped it on his tunic, and tapped it as he’d been taught. It flared to life, sending rays of light dancing over the cave walls. He finally got a good glimpse of where he was and his stomach did another dangerous flop.

He stood on a narrow sandy beach beside the river that coiled away, disappearing into the darkness. How far from the bridge and ledge was he? He shuddered, afraid to know. He looked upriver, trying to get an idea for where he was. There wasn’t a riverbank except the strip of beach he was on. The river had carved a tunnel through the rock, sheer cliffs on either side made going back the way he came impossible. He wasn’t about the try to risk walking in the river itself. Who knew what might be lurking beneath the surface? He edged toward the sloping walls, ducking under the ropey-glowing moss. It glowed brighter the closer he got, reflecting the light of the orb. He frowned, peering at the walls. Deep in his mind he felt a tug, faint, but persistent. He moved closer, lifting the orb, hoping to get a better glimpse. There was a jagged tear in the rock, a passage leading up and away from the river. He leaned against the edge of the entry letting another wave of dizzy pass. He needed to get out, to find the singer. He dared not guess what sort of creepy crawlies were in the passage.

The tug in his mind was insistent. He needed to go into the passage. He nodded. So far it hadn’t led him wrong. It guided him to where the Slayer had hidden Mayhren, it had guided them back to the surface before the fireball. He swallowed, aware of the tightness in his left cheek, the pain that he was getting used to. He glanced back towards the river and took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his sides, and stepped into the looming darkness.

It pressed against the orb light, closing around him, blocking off all view and any hope of escape. It felt alive in some way, a malevolent presence that wasn’t willing to let him leave. He forced one foot in front of the other, trying to think of anything other than the dark. His companions, his brother, they probably thought he’d died in the fall. He’d find a way back to the surface and back to Avaria. He’d get beyond the reach of this darkness and find a way to let them know he wasn’t dead.

The passage wound its way upward, in some spots he had to tuck the orb in his tunic and climb steep slopes. With each step the tug got stronger, a pressure in his head that was almost painful.

The passage ended at a stone carved doorway though the door itself had long since rotted away. Zindith stared, disbelief and awe blocking out the pain. How long had it stood silent in the dark, waiting for its masters to return? The tug pulsed, pain shot through his head. He gasped for breath, and edged closer to the doorway. He stepped through the doorway, wishing he had a weapon. Who knew what might be in this place? Stepping away from the door, the light of the orb illuminated an ages old walkway carved into the sides of immense cliffs. Guardrails once stood along the far edge, but most of those had long worn away. All that were left were posts that would have held the railings. Overhead he could see the orb’s light glinting off of what might have been metal chandeliers or some sort of lighting devices.

“Impossible.” He murmured, his voice bouncing off the walls. In the distance, to his left, a stone bridge spanned the chasm, the far end concealed in the blanket of darkness. The tug pulled him in that direction. Bemused and in awe he went where it led, noting the archways that dotted the sides of the chasm, and the passageway. Who had carved these ways? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The rahaun hadn’t lived underground. He didn’t recall any other legends that hinted that these passages existed. His heart pounded and the tug became a pounding at his temples. It stopped, as suddenly as it started, when he reached the bridge.

He stared up at the steps leading across the chasm, his heart loud in his ears. The steps led to a wide flat platform, then a walkway arched back downward to a second platform from which another set of stairs led, he hoped, to the other side. He couldn’t tell. The orb’s light cut off, unable to penetrate the wall of dark ahead of him.

He took another look around. The archways, with their passages gaping at him, gave him the shakes. He could almost imagine things just on the other side of the dark, watching him, waiting to strike when the orb flickered out. He shook it off, looked back at the stone bridge. He felt it, briefly. The tug, gently pulling him towards the bridge. He stepped onto the stone bridge, testing it. Who knew how long this had stood, alone, in the dark underground of the Shadowlands. It felt firm.

He  went up the steps, wishing there was a rail of some sort. When he reached the first platform he got a glimpse of the other side and smiled. Another passage, but it veered upward towards steps coiling towards the distant ceiling. His ticket out, perhaps? He hesitated, glancing back the way he’d come, listening. His own breathing was loud in the hush. No echos, no drips, no bodiless voices lamenting in a dead language. Silent. The caverns were holding their breath, the darkness waiting for a misstep. He shook himself. Too many knocks to the head.

Zindith wiped his hand on his breeches. He felt clammy, ill, and dizzy. He hurried across the wide arch toward the second platform. He felt the tremble through his boots, and swore. A cracking sound echoed off the walls of the chasm. He swore darting towards the platform as he felt the bridge beneath his feet crumbling. He jumped, landing on his stomach on the platform the air knocked from his lungs as the arch crumbled, clattering far below. He barely caught his breath, starting to pull himself up when the platform shuddered. He swore, the crack of shattering rock deafening. The platform dropped out from beneath him and he was falling again. He closed his eyes, there was no river below to save him. The fall halted and pain exploded across his jaw and nose as he hit the stone face first. Darkness wrapped around him.

 ~*~

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Re-Release

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

One of the greatest things about self pubbing, is if you need to change something, you can. If you don’t like the cover, you’re not stuck with the pubbing co going SOL.

The Magic Maker is one of my favorite stories, and the first of what I hope, many set in that world. To date I haven’t been able to really dabble much with it but I plan to. I redid the cover, and did a skim through to correct things (typos, misspellings, random commas etc) and have gotten it back up.

The Magic Maker

In a corrupt city, Tia struggles to keep her small family together. She finds herself caught between a sorceress and local crime lord, and to top it off, an unknown voice begins begging her for help. With time running out, can she escape the city with family and sanity intact?

Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords
Kobo

In other news, I’ve had to push Zander back 1 month due to personal reasons. Mid may is the new target.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Things make up things

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I don’t usually participate in twitter chats much, usually because I find myself chasing short people into bed around the same time that the chats are taking place. Somehow, tonight, I managed to slip into the #indiechat with the topic on Hugh Howey’s Author Earnings report thingy that has, apparently, whipped up a frenzy of deniers and what not.

Now, while I did read the report itself and heard writer pals talking about the panicky, accusatory anti self pubbers who attacked it, I really don’t pay much attention dramaz going on. I’ve got my own rl dramaz I’m dealing with, and following the naysayers and the yeahsayers and everyone in between isn’t going to pay the rent or water bill. Anyway, I sat in on the convo, figured I’d learn a thing or three. Hugh showed up and the whole chat trended. It wasn’t as in depth as I would have liked. But it was fascinating to see the perceptions and views expressed.

It was fun, stimulating, and thought provoking. I went back and reread the report (over here if you want to look at it) and then, since I missed the dramaz, went over to PG to see what he was sharing. And it’s…

You know what? go see for yourself;

The Passive Voice just start reading and going back. You’ll find some interesting views, some I agreed with, some I don’t. It’s educational, and (imo) very interesting.

It think, when it’s all said and done, JW Manus summed it up fairly well (emphasis mine):

……It’s really not about the money…. Money is very nice and pays the bills. But every real writer I’ve ever met (and by real, I mean the passionate, even hypergraphic wordsmiths and storytellers who love nothing more than bringing mere words to life) will write and tell stories even there is no money in it. Their real goal is not money, but readers. Because without readers a piece of writing is incomplete. It exists, it is tangible, but without readers it is dancing on an empty stage in a closed theater or singing in the shower. Readers complete the connection.

 

Go read the whole post over here, I was nodding and agreeing all the way through.

~*~

SO, I’ve been kinda MIA these days. There are reasons, some have to do with unexpected house guest staying for a time, some are health related, mood related and digi art related. Yes, digi art. My other obsession. I’ll get to that in a moment.

I’ve been caught up in some very not cool things that have had to be dealt with. We’re still trying to get the fires put out, and it might be a few weeks before things start looking back up. In the meantime I’m plugging away at Bastard Prince and trying not to feel guilty for not having as much done as I wanted to. The tentative release date is April 12th, but depending on the current RL issues, I may have to push it back a month.

I started redoing covers, starting with The Magic Maker and have hit a wall. I know what I see in my head, but doing it is another thing. I’m worried (I always worry) that it is too dark. Here are two examples. I have a third I haven’t rendered yet, but I’m not too sure I’m going in the right direction with these.

testcover      testcover1

There was something else I was going to mention but I’ve forgotten. -.-  Remind me, I owe yall a post on digi art, but now, it’s late, I’m behind on words and I need to get to bed. Hope yall are having a great Febuary.

**waves**

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Whew, it’s been a while since I’ve done this, and I apologize for neglecting my blog here. Since it’s cold and snowy in so many places in the US right now, I thought I’d share a bit of a tropical flashback. It’s the best I can do. :P

Have a peaceful sunday!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Still here

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I have been sick, still trying to get writing stuff handled. Zbk1 edits are in full swing, shooting for an April 12 release (my birthday). I have some awesome betas who are giving me great input. Have a mini snippage:

 

Valen handed Zander a small sphere with odd indents and markings on it. Zander frowned and looked up at his friend.

“What is this?” He whispered.

“A charge.” Valen grinned, lifting up another one. “Push down here,” he tapped a raised, circular impression in the middle of it. “Till it clicks, then toss it at enemy, and it goes boom. Big explosions. Sometimes messy, always loud.”

“Fun.”

“You have no idea.”

 

Hope yall are doing okay. **waves**

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Another rough snip

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Okay then

Rough, it needs scrubbing. I KNOW this….  Mikial’s nickname is Shaderunner fyi 

~*~

The odd hut was divided into three small rooms with a large central fire-pit area. Mikial built up the fire as the women divided making it comfortable. He tried not to notice how closely they watched him, his injuries were still healing and he could feel their concern. On some level it was touching. On another, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to be healed, he wanted to be done. He wanted to go back to the caves, to confront Avari and demand an explanation.

He was going to get one. He’d given his existence to her. She’d better damn well give him one. Or else,

He hesitated, crouched in front of the fire, watching the flickering flames. Or else what? She was a goddess, what could he do, after all?

He stood, stretching sore muscles, testing the healing tissue. Years of life, of living, slowed his body’s healing. Velvet, despite her assistance, couldn’t counter that. And there was the damn monitor. It wouldn’t allow his body to heal faster than the algorithms programed years ago. He absently rubbed at it as he left the dome.

The fields of Tives stretched out before him and in the distance the broken and tumbled city walls of Tives itself stood, silent testament to the anger of the gods. He tightened the cloak around his shoulders, staring towards the rubble.

Gods, Goddesses. His life was caught up in a massive joke. What was the point? Time rolled past him, for a brief moment he could almost see the faces of his past lovers, lost friends. Dria would have raged, Savna counseled, Rinoa exploded, he shuddered. Too many. And now, with the bond he couldn’t rightfully seek solace of death. Velvet’s life lay on his shoulders.

He sensed her, before he heard her, old friend, one of the few who knew Dria, who fought in the goblin wars and managed the catacomb collapses. Emmalin stopped a little bit behind him, not saying anything though he felt her mind brush his, ever so gently, gauging, testing. Almost too light for even him to detect.

“You know, Vel feels awful about the whole binding issue.” She said softly.

Mikial couldn’t respond. How could he? What was there to say?

“It saved her life, repeatedly though.”

He half turned frowning at her. “How?”

“She’s never explained. But I’ll say this, if she’d died, when attacked, if she’d died way back when being tortured, she wouldn’t have been able to save Zin, or pull the unbound together.” Emm was staring at him, her overlarge dark eyes very serious. Mikial felt his stomach twist as she stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Avari betrayed you to your enemy, I see that, you’re in shock, I know. But when I see you I remember the man who faced down the dragons, who stood firm against the spider queen.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the dome, then back at him. “We’ve seen some crazy shit in our day, Mikial. She has no idea. And the man you were back then, got buried under bureaucracy.” She touched his face. “I miss that man.”

“Perhaps that man is dead.” He said softly.

Emm smiled sadly and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She leaned forward hesitated and brushed a kiss against his lips. “There’s game a few miles south of here. You and Vel, you have some things you have to work out. I’ll get out of your hair,”

“Emm,”

“So you can get that straightened out and,”

“Emm, she needs you here.” He wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be left alone with the little red-head, but Emm shook her head with a sad smile.

“No, because she’ll hide behind me, because you scare the ever-loving piss out of her.” She patted his arm, then squeezed gently. “She’s tough, yes, she’s had to be. But she’s as alone as you are, and the bond was the only thing that kept her sane.”

He nodded. Emm took a deep breath and grinned. “Have fun.” And was gone.

He swore under his breath. Typical. There were times, like then, that she reminded him so much of Dria it made him want to weep. It was why he’d cut off contact. He couldn’t handle the pain that welled up every time he thought of the lost free-spirit.

 

###

 

I will clean this up, I promise.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

Snippet out of the blue

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

This is from….a project I really shouldn’t be working on.

~*~

 

The voices of the patrons of the One Winged Angel created a mildly comforting din as they cheered the pit fighters on. Velvet leaned against the bar watching, amused, as her customers yelled, laughed and cheered. She couldn’t see the fighters, but could tell by the cheers, who was dueling. A slim brunette, curls bouncing around her shoulders, wove her way through the crowd, a tray of empty dishes held overhead. She nodded at Velvet and glanced over her shoulder.

“They’re actually fighting rather well tonight.” She said as she slid the tray on the counter and turned around. “The bets are getting ridiculous!”

“Who’s winning?” Velvet leaned closer. She brushed a kiss against the brunette’s shoulder. Emm glanced at her with a grin.

“I couldn’t tell, they’re both fairly bloody.”

“Great, we’ll have patching up to do.” Vel chuckled.

“You’ll have patching up to do.” Emm laughed, moving around to the back of the counter. “I just work here.”

The door to the tavern opened, and Vel got a glimpse of swirling snow outside before the view was blocked by a tall figure. Her smile faded and she pushed herself upright watching the tall man and his two companions step into the taproom.

“Shut the gods be damned door, fool, unless you want to pay to heat this place!” Emm yelled.

The man looked her way and smirked. The door shut behind him, cutting off the howling wind. His companions looked at him in surprise. He’d not touched the door with his hand. He strode forward, aware that most eyes were on him. Pale hair, albino skin, and brilliant green eyes that laughed at her. Velvet shook her head. Trouble. Pure trouble.

“Kale, I’d be careful were I you, I’ve seen your tab here.” Emm pointed the cudgel she kept under the counter. “I’ll make you go wash my dishes!”

“You don’t want me to do that.” Kale said with a laugh, leaning against the counter. “Just ask the staff at the caves, I break more than I clean.”

“On purpose, I’d wager.” Vel snorted and glanced at the two silently following Kale and back at him with a frown.

“They were set to follow me.” He turned, gripped the shoulder of the nearest man, hauling him to the counter. “But I caught them, so I invited them along for a drink.” He smiled.

“Poor fools.” Emm said. She leaned towards the man at the counter. “You might just want to give up the commission, my friend. Really not worth it.”

“I figure they’ll be kind enough to pay my tab, after trying to chase me through this gods-forsaken city.” Kale looked down at the men and held out his hand. “Your purses, please, if you’ll be so kind.”

The men looked at each other and slowly reached for their belts.

“Nothing funny gentlemen,” Vel said softly. “Neither of you will walk out alive.”

They gulped and nodded, handing over some very heavy looking money pouches. Kale bounced them in his hand and nodded, glancing at them. “Go away.”

The men vanished.

“Where did you port them?” Emm asked, eyes wide.

“Creshna, near the Sable mountains.” Kale grinned.

“Evil.” Vel snickered. “What are you doing here, Kale? I thought the Goddess Avari frowned down on her pets consorting with us uncouth unbounds.”

“She does. Except when she’s given orders to hunt you out.” He rested elbows on the counter. “And I have specific instructions to ask you to kindly come for a visit to the caves.”

“What does she want?” Vel asked, heart pounding in her ears.

“Father has been asked to host a meeting of immortals, namely unbound, to discuss the current Slayer situation.” Kale leaned towards Vel. “Rumor has it you’d be the best one to ask about the Slayer.”

“Ooo an invitation from the Shaderunner.” Emm said leaning against Vel’s shoulder. “Sounds exciting.”

“A meeting?” Vel looked at her. “Sounding exciting?”

“The Staff of the Caves make the absolute best pastries and I know several back passages to get them.” Emm grinned impishly at her, then turned towards Kale. “When does his grumpyness want us there?”

“Us?” Vel eyed Emm.

“Grumpyness?” Kale snickered. “In two days. I’ll port you…”

“Kale, I’ve been porting since before your mother’s people were a clan. I think I can handle it.” Emm said. “Just tell us when we need to be there.”

Kale snorted. “One of these days Emm, I’m going to get you to tell me a tale or two. Loren say’s you’ve got a lot of them.”

She laughed. “Not today, Kale.”

Vel stewed, leaning against the counter. “Great. Just what I need to deal with.”

“Aww come on red, it’ll be fun.” Emm said. She kissed Vel’s cheek. “You’ve never seen funny until you’ve seen a startled centaur on marble.”

Kale snorted.

“I’d rather not have to deal with Shaderunner.” Vel said, voice low. The idea made her blood run cold. There were some beings in the world far too powerful for their own good.

“Why? Father’s not that bad, Vel, not really.” Kale looked confused.

“God-like powers, not that bad?” Vel snorted.

“Just hand him some ancient tome or book and he’ll be happy.” Kale winked. “Besides, I heard he likes redheads, kind of a weakness thing!” He vanished, leaving a money bag on the counter.

Vel stared at the bag and glanced at Emm. “I really didn’t want to hear that.”

 

###

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Inside The Author’s Mind released

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

The series is done, for now, and compiled into a complete collection.

cover

 

Inside The Author’s Mind is a collection of shorts written from the
point of view of the story elements. From characters, to ideas, to
muses, and editor, these have previously been sold singly and are
now put together. The collection is approximately 6400 words, 25
pages, and includes The Shiny, Redshirts, Muse Interrupted, Editor In Chains, 
Daydream Paradise Beach

It is available at:

Smashwords
Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
Kobo

Now on to the next project!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

2014 Goals, Plans, and Expectations

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

A new year, new goals. I’ve made up a tentative publishing schedule for this new year, starting with the goal of one new publication (large or small) a month with three large releases for the year. We’ll see how it goes. Goals are dreams with a date on them they say. And I’ve even taken into account the usual grueling summers I have.

There are plans to move to another house sometime in late spring early summer which may disrupt things.

The big releases, the first three Zander books, are slated for April, ?June?, and September/October. The final book, Crossroads (which *might* be 2 books) *might* be ready by December.

I’m still dabbling with the idea of E1 up as a serial, but I’m not sure with everything else I have on my plate, that I have the mental capacity to to that atm. I might do something like that over the summer since E1 is, for the most part done.

Other smaller projects will be released through the rest of the year, hopefully on a monthly basis. I’m not hinging all my hopes on any one project. As a writer who plans to be around for a long time, my larger goals are long term, not hinged on any one book. A career isn’t built on one book, rather multiple projects. I’ll refer you to Dean Wesley Smith for more on that particular viewpoint.

I also have the goal of doing a Friday Flash fiction every week this year. Lofty? Maybe. I’m gonna try to do it though.

Last year’s sales;

With the lack of new material up for sale, sales were fairly non-existent. I haven’t pulled up the actual numbers yet, but I know they were spotty. There are a number of reasons why, ranging from pricing, covers that need to be improved and just lack of new material to keep my name up at the top of the new release lists and whatnot. Last year was fairly brutal for me. For a number of reasons and that impacted me finishing and releasing stuff. In short; sales sucked and I’m the reason why.

That was last year. This is a new year, new opportunities, new information to learn. This year. I want to write more. I need to write more. I need to get a better handle on covers, formatting and get back in the game so to speak. The paralyzing that halted me over the past year and a half, seems to have melted away. While there is a touch of anxiety, it isn’t halting me. Onward and upward! I’m ready! Are you?

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

2013 Winding Down

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

2013 is almost over, and I have to say, writing-wise, I didn’t do as much as I’d planned. But what’s done is done and I’m not going to beat myself over the head about it. I’m still writing, and that’s a lot more than a lot of ‘writers’ these days. I’m putting together a 2014 business plan atm, will post it as soon as it’s more than a vague idea.

Dean Wesley Smith has a 2013 wrapup over here which I thought was very interesting.

I hope you all have a great Christmas (If you celebrate it), Yule, Winter Solstice, etc.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

December is here

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Where did the year go? Rhetorical question, I’m not expecting an answer :P . So I did hit the nano words and my brain decided that Dmitri was going to go to sleep and Zander promptly started whispering at me. 0.o

Something that I noticed, post nano. I don’t seem to have the post nano brain-dead. I think it’s because writing has become such an integral part of my day (yes my DAY) that writing 50k really isn’t all that big a deal. Looking over my records on writing, I seem to have the greatest monthly output, wordwise, in feb, march and april. Interesting (imo).

I was fiddling with a program called Aeon Timeline to set up the timeline for the Zander stories. Mind you I’ve tried a number or programs and most timeline ones limit the dates. This thing is effing awesome. The world Zander lives on and the time frames in this world are VAST. This program allows me to set up my own date/calendar system. My OCD is very happy with this. VERY happy.

I managed to do the timeline for Books 1-3 and then Zander/Talia’s part of bk 4 and was starting to work on the timeline for the forensic fantasy part of bk 4 when I realized that I needed the name of a character, I couldn’t for the LIFE of me remember his name. So I did something I shouldn’t have done. I opened up my backup files and started skimming through old versions of Crossroads. -.- I am kindof surprused how well it holds up. YES there are issues, and no I don’t think I’d be able to edit it to fit into the new plot/timeline. But some of those scenes are golden. Just golden.

Anyways, I’m back to plugging away on the Zander story, I want to finish bk 2 before Jan 1st. Anyways this sat on my computer for way too long. Hope yall are having a good december so far.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Still here

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I’m very close to hitting NaNo, despite some unexpected shit tossed my way this month. I’ll try to put it into words later, suffice to say this month didn’t go quite as planned. Anyways, would you like a dragon snip? Have I mentioned I lurvs my dragons? :D

Just remember, this is NaNo rough. It needs a good scrubbing. I know this. Enjoy;

~*~

Miranda was preparing to return to their quarters, when a sound from the entry ledge caught her attention. Dmitri stood still, watching the tunnel, his hands clenching and un-clenching at his sides. Khal and Lita moved behind him. Three males stepped into the hall. The man in front was pale, broad shouldered in clothes that were worn and patched. His hair fell to his shoulders and looked tousled, unwashed. He wore a blade at his side, and he rested his hand on the hilt. They strode in silence, looking neither right nor left, stopping several lengths from Dmitri.

“I’ll be damned.” Someone whispered. The hunters gathered creating a loose circle around the newcomers.

“Brenon.” Dmitri inclined his head, his low voice carrying over the room. Muffled gasps filled the room. Miranda nibbled her lower lip. Should she go over or stand to the stay where she was? She glanced at Jor, but the other woman had her eyes locked on the Outlander and his people.

“Dmitri, its been a long time.” Brenon’s voice was deep, similar to Dmitri’s though his was rougher. He looked around, narrowing his eyes when he saw Miranda, then looked at Dmitri. “Lots of whispers about you in the Outlands. Lots of eyes on the Keep, wondering if you’ve got a chance in hell.”

“You’re not here to discus whispers and rumors, brother.” Dmitri said. “Why are you here?”

Brenon gave a bark of laughter. Some of the hunters shifted uneasily. Was this going to be a challenge? Miranda wanted to ask someone, but all eyes were on the two males. Brenon lifted a rolled scroll. “You have a working office. There are many eyes in here.”

“Say what you have to say here, Brenon.” Dmitri crossed his arms.

They regarded each other.

“You’ve caught the attention of the Thalsbren. Even the human nations are beginning to notice. Gaeno is old, weak, bitter about his lack of advancement with Lothos and Otto.” Brenon ran his hand over the scroll. “He’s approached me, so did Hesh and Rilo, and several others who have since fallen. You’ve made a dent, a huge one, in Lothos old crew.”

“Get to the point brother.” Dmitri snarled. His skin mottled, swirls of blue-grey just below the surface.

“The alliances are lining up, between you and Gaeno.”

“We know this!” Jor snapped. Dmitri held up a hand and Brenon nodded.

“We, the Outlanders, have held off giving any of you our support.” Brenon held up the scroll. “Gaeno wanted us to ally with him, until I gave him our terms.”

Dmitri said nothing.

“How many contenders have you fought, since you made your stake?”

Dmitri looked towards Jor who was frowning as she strode over.

“Nintey four.” She said.

“What are you, made of steel?” The male asked incredulously.

“I wish.” Dmitri gave a crooked grin. “It’d hurt less when I get hit.”

Brenon gave a bark of laughter and held out the scroll, unrolling it and walking over to the table. “The elders will call for a count, see whose support you’ve garnered, once at the contenders are down.” He set the scroll down and Miranda could see it was a detailed set of maps. Brenon pointed at Dmitri. “You need the Outlanders. Every other contender, and I’ve lost count, has come to me, begging me for my backing. Giving nothing and promising nothing in return.” He spat on the floor. “Every single one of those slithering worms hid from father and Otto. You haven’t come to me, and you’re the only one who had the gall to stand up to the old man.” Brenon pointed at an odd marking on the map. “Give us back Syrsteca, and the Outlanders will back you.”

Someone gave a long low whistle.

“That’s a fools task.” Lita said.

“Syrteca was one of the first taken.” Dmitri didn’t look at the map, his eyes were locked on Brenon. “The queen has dug in deep.”

Brenon nodded. “Do it, brother, and we’re yours.”

Dmitri’s eyes narrowed. Miranda could see several others shaking their heads, even Brenon’s men didn’t look optimistic.

“Done.” Dmitri said finally. Whispers ran through the onlookers. Brenon nodded grinning slowly.

“If anyone can do it, you can.” Brenon stepped forward, arm out.

They gripped arms, and after a moment Brenon pulled Dmitri into a rough embrace, said something in his ear, turned and strode out, his fellows close behind him. The silence stretched, all eyes on Dmitri. He leaned over the map, hands on the table, staring at it.

“There is no way to dislodge a queen, Dmitri.” Lita said. “It’s a death wish.”

He made no response, moved one of the maps.

“Dmitri, how could you agree to that?” She pressed. He looked at her, the mottling was back. She stepped back.

“Malice, Lita, take a scouting trip around Syrteca. Keep low, and don’t be noticed.” He said after a long silence. He rolled the scrolls up and glanced around the room before leaving.

###

Have a great weekend!

 

You can find more dragon snips over here

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Nano Snippage

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

So the story seems to be winding down a bit sooner than I expected, both in my head and in the words. Brain is ready to be done braining about Dmitri and his people. I think.

So here’s a snip

 

Miranda pushed a branch aside and found herself in a small clearing on the edge of a small lake at the base of the cliffs. Water coursed down the cliff-side from where the protective shielding met the cliffs. Melted snow and ice perhaps? Standing at the base of the waterfall, hip deep in the water was Dmitri. She had the crazy urge to turn and walk away but she shook it off. His head was bowed, eyes closed, hands at his sides.

She felt something, a power moving towards Dmitri. She tore her eyes from his unmoving form to look into the pond, and felt her heart pounding painfully in her ears. Bright light, multiple pinpricks of sparkles moving in a steady stream up from the bottom of the pool. The light coiled around him, and faded while another tendril or light reached out for him.

“Impossible.” She whispered. There was a well of power in the water!

Dmitri lifted his head and his hands. The light was moving under his skin, both hands glowing as the water dripped from them. When he opened his eyes, Miranda pressed her hand against her mouth. White, spirit elemental white, and like his hands glowing. He lifted his hands slowly and the light moving under his skin moved down his arms to his hands then reached out from his hands, a ever widening spread of light reaching up to the shielding overhead.

Miranda turned, watching it reach the shielding and fade away. How long it lasted she wasn’t sure, but the shielding above shimmered, undulated a bit before settling down. She turned back, and swallowed. He was watching her, his eyes blue again. He moved through the water, pulling himself up onto the bank and moved past her up the path. The loose, soaked pants dripping with each step.

“Dmitri?” She saw him pause but keep going and she grabbed her skirts following him. “What did you just do?”

He half turned, meeting her eyes, then shook his head and kept going. “I had to fix the cracks in the shielding before they got worse.” He stopped and turned back to her.

She stopped in front of him, shaking her head. “That was impossible. What you did, that’s…that’s spirit elemental tricks!”

He shrugged. “You feeling all right?”

She stared. “You just called up power from a well, to fix a shield, and you ask me if I’m all right?”

“Well are you?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” She gave a half laugh. “How did you learn to do that?”

He frowned and shrugged. “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

She took a deep breath. “How long?”

“I’m not sure.” He turned and headed back up the path.

 

<<<>>>

You can find more dragon snips over here

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

2013-11-01 08.25.04Took this about a week ago. So Pretty.

Have a peaceful day, relax, unwind, enjoy a moment of recharging.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Day Four – NaNo

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Quick note; this is nano and I haven’t edited it. I know it is rough. Enjoy.

Snippage:

“Your hide stands out in the snow. It’s dangerous for you, and I hesitate sending you on patrols with [critters] able to track you.”

She swore, she hadn’t thought of that. She stood, pacing by the door. He was watching her, his eyes seemed guarded. “I can’t just sit here all day, hells just hand me a broom!”

“Did you ever train any of the youths or hatchlings?”

She stopped and looked at him. “Of course. We all took turns. How many hatchlings are here? I haven’t seen…”

“Most are more youths, though there are a couple younger ones. They hide in the upper levels, out of the way.”

“Safer I take it?” Memories of blood-soaked sand and a dragoness gone mad flashed through her mind. He nodded.

“Some of the hunters are not very good around the youths. Most of the youths are orphans, and have come here from other regions, other family units who have collapsed or been killed off. They’ve had no guidance, no training. Though most of us never got formal training.”

Miranda shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around it. “You have a mess here.”

He nodded grimly. “I know.” He stood and strode over, frowning at her. “Would you be willing to give them some training while you’re here?”

She considered it. She’d trained most of the dragons in her pack. “I’ll do my best. It’ll keep me busy at the very least.” She rubbed her hands together. “And if they mess up, cleaning!”

He gave a snort, possible laugh? Miranda peered at him, he seemed amused. And close, very close. Far too close. Her head was not in the right space. She wanted him to kiss her again. It had to be the heat. After all this was Dmitri, cold as ice, right?

“That’s one way to get the Keep clean.” HE looked as though he were going to say something else when his name was called from below. For a moment his shoulders sagged and he looked very tired.

“It never ends, does it?” She touched his arm lightly, not thinking about it. He made a face and shook his head.

“There’s always something.”

She nodded took a deep breath and stepped over, raised to her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his lips. He looked at her startled. “Well I guess you’d better go take care of it.” She moved past him, intending to duck into the bedroom and hide under the blankets, but he caught her arm and pulled her against him roughly, tipping her head up to look at him. There were no words said, he kissed her, lips demanding. She opened her mouth letting his take control, his hands moving down her sides holding her against him. Had it not been for the voice, calling for him below, she would have pulled him back to the bedroom. She wanted him, and she didn’t care if it was the heat or not.

When they broke apart, he held her still against him, studying her. She could barely meet his eyes, which seemed very cloudy. Desire was in his eyes. She felt her cheeks heating up. What the hell was wrong with her?

“That was the heat, wasn’t it?” She whispered hoarsely. He nodded.

“That was the heat.” His voice sounded as rough as hers, and he released her.

<<<>>>

You can find more dragon snips over here

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

NaNo day 3

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Day 1 –  1022
Day 2 – 5505
Day 3 – 2112 – I am not finished with this scene so this will go up

Snip:

The Weather Man held up a hand, and went to one of the walls. He touched it and what looked like a drawer slid open, he dipped his hand into the drawer and when he lifted it out, he held a  blue stone set in gold hanging from a thin gold chain.  He handed it to Miranda. “That belonged to the mate of Sharuth, one of their last great leaders.”

“I can’t take this.” She stared at the stone. The Weather Man tipped her head up, meeting her eyes.

“Keep it, don’t wear it openly, consider it a good luck charm if you will. A hand-fasting gift from an old bavnan sorcerer. These people need something to hope for. Perhaps you can bring the life back into this old keep.”

“Weather Man,” Miranda tried to hand it back and he shook his head, closing her fingers around the amulet.

“I meant it. Keep it. She gave it to me, before Sharuth was killed and she took their remaining offspring into exile. And I’m giving it to you.”

<<<<>>>>>

Happy nanoing!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

Dragon Snippage

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Had this odd idea for some backstory relationship stuff which would carry through the later books in the elemental series, so of course I had to scribble it up. Timeframe? Way back when…

Have a dragon snip:

Nekita swore, looking up at the gap in the odd dome she’d fallen through. She could see the clouds swirling overhead, the sheer rocks, with no grips for even her deft fingers to catch. She sighed, getting to her feet and took a look around, the pain of her scratches fading in the wake of her wonder. From above she’d seen nothing but snow over sharp peaks. She stood instead on the edge of what appeared to be a forest. She absently brushed the dirt and melting snow from her clothes, staring in disbelief.

Some of the trees were laden with fruit, some almost ripe, some beginning to flower. The ground was covered with soft grassy-moss and twigs and she was certain she heard, in the distance, birds chirping, and water running. She moved along a path, unbuttoning the top buttons of her cloak as she went. It was warm. In the middle of the icy ranges, it was warm.

She ducked around a low branch and followed the path past what looked like an old, abandoned house. She hesitated, inhaling deeply. Dragon musk. Nekita stopped and looked around, a slow circle. The mountains were sheer around the valley, there as, from her vantage point, now way in, no way out beside the crack she had fallen through. But she smelled dragon. Not Old either, she was certain this was fresh, recent. She looked at the house, the roof was caved in, the door long gone. Window holes stared out and it appeared that something had made a nest just inside.

She swallowed and listened. Just the water running and birds. She let herself relax, looking with her other-sight. But there was nothing, not even wisps. There was a gentle pull, a tug in the same direction as the sound of the water. It reminded her of the wells. She continued, slower, resting her hands on her sword hilts. If there was a dragon here it would be either a feral or a rogue. Rogue she might be able to talk with, they could shift. Feral, well she’d be in trouble if it was a feral.

Back into the forest and to the back end of the valley where a waterfall fed a large pond. Nekita stood on the bank staring over it. The tug was still faint and she looked down into the water. It was clear, clearer than any other pond she’d seen. And she felt it, power, very faint. She knelt staring down into the depths. How deep was it? She touched the water, cool, but not the ice cold she would have expected. She looked across the pond to the waterfall and frowned, there was a cave behind the falls, but she’d have to swim to get to it. She straightened, considering. It was getting dark, and she was in an unusual place. And there was, most definitely a dragon somewhere in the valley.

She turned and swallowed a shriek. It was behind her, its head blocking the path. How had it come up so quietly? No, not it, he. She stared, forcing herself to breath normally. Pale blue-gray hide that shimmered in the late afternoon light. His eyes were an ice blue, and they narrowed to slits as they regarded each other in silence. He was bigger than Greyson, she was certain of it, though his body was concealed by the forest. Ice Dragon. A deep rumble, odd pitch, unlike the northern dragons, shook the ground, and she felt it in her lungs. She swallowed hoping she didn’t look quite as terrified as she felt. This was a big beast.

“I don’t speak dragon.” She whispered.

<<<<<>>>>>>

Have a good week yall…

Edited to add: Other Dragon Snips can be found over here

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Flash Fiction Friday # 12

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

This is sort of a two parter. Part one can be found over here.

WARNING FOR POSSIBLE TRIGGERY STUFF
(just to be on the safe side)

How it Began; Part 2

(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

The cave stank of fear and desperation. Greyson stopped just inside the entry to gain control of his stomach, and let his night vision adjust. Seeing in the dim light, while a blessing in the mountains, was a curse in the dank tunnel. There were things he didn’t want to see. Remains of other victims lay by the doors of their cells. They were far too late to save them. Dmitri, hadn’t been willing to come inside, now that he was there, Grey couldn’t blame him.

“Come on, boy, she’d be down this way.” Stilgar’s voice broke through his thoughts. Grey nodded.

“He said four or five cells.” Habcore said. “There’s a lot more here than four or five.”

“Aye.” Toura looked ill.

“Lothos is crazy.” Grey said. A whimper drifted from the depths of the tunnel.

“Someone is down there.” Stilgar said softly.

“Dragonmaster, she might know him,” Fiore said, stepping over. “But I’m female, and it was a male that did this to her.”

Stilgar looked back and forth between them and nodded. “Go with her Grey, she may recognize your voice.”

Fiore took the furs from him, and he followed her down the cold tunnel.

She was huddled in a corner, her pale skin covered in dark bruises, her only covering was her pale hair around her. She looked towards them fearfully, cringing.

“Open this door Grey.” Fiore whispered.  She turned her attention to the woman, her voice soft. “My lady? We’re here to get you out, Lady Aunusha sent us.”

Grey nodded, gripping the bars, pulling on the dragon-strength and anger. No one had ever looked at him in such fear. He stepped back, tearing the door from the frame set in the stone, and resisted the urge to throw it, setting it to one side. Fiore crouched beside the woman, draping the fur over her slim form. The woman kept looking towards Grey with a frown.

“Do you remember Greyson?” Fiore asked. The woman’s lower lip trembled.

She looked at Fiore. “The Dragonmaster’s son.”

“Yes. And the Dragonmaster is playing lookout. We’ll take you where it’s safe.” Fiore pushed a strand of hair from the woman’s face.

“He’ll find me.” She whispered. “He said he’ll find me if I try to leave.”

“No, we won’t let that happen.” Grey said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“You can’t stop him.”

“We got here, didn’t we?” Greyson asked. He met her eyes. “Trust us. We won’t let him find you.”

She stilled, her eyes flickering from a pale blue-green, to the blank Spirit state. She nodded, looked up at Fiore and tried to stand, her body swaying. “Take me home.”

 

She whimpered once when Grey shifted, and Fiore secured her to the carry rig. It hung between his front legs, and would shelter her during the flight. He crouched, preparing to launch when Habcor roared a warning. Two large ice dragons approaching, fast.

Grey lurched into the air, trying to get used to the extra weight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of pale grey, diving from the clouds, slamming into one of the approaching dragons, pushing it into the other, with air-piercing roar. Then he was past them, following Stilgar and Fiore’s dark shapes through the clouds.

 

“Physically she’ll recover.” Lady Aunusha  said, stepping from the inner room where servants had taken the injured woman. “It’ll take time to see how and if her mind recovers.”

Grey, Fiore and Stilgar had stayed at the Oracle of the Spirit Elementals, the others returned to the Hollow. They watched the Lady as she paced, her hands clasped in front of her.

“What will the Grande Council do about Lothos? This is not the first time this has happened.” She looked at them. “Will there be any justice for them?”

Stilgar frowned. “Before we left, I requested an immediate Council, to discuss this and prior incidents. However, there is a chance Lothos could counter it, I did break multiple treaties…”

“You saved her life.” She whispered. “Are treaties more important?”

“In the eyes of some of the Council, yes. I took a risk that could cause war if Lothos feels so inclined. I felt it was worth taking, others won’t agree.”

“You are the Dragonmaster,” she glared. “You could order him,”

“To what? My authority extends only to my clan. The Ice Dragons have their own rules. We’ll do what we can. But even with the might of the Council behind us, I doubt anything can be done about him. One of his underlings, yes. Lothos is their leader, and that would mean removing him,”

“Which should be done!”

“You and I both agree with that! I don’t think the council will see it that way. The Ice Dragons are a bit unpredictable to begin with, remove their leader and we’d have a serious problem to our North, one the council won’t want to deal with.”

“I see. My thanks, again, Dragonmaster, for your help in this matter.” She turned and went back into the inner room without another word.

Fiore sighed. “One ally lost.”

“Two. I doubt Dmitri made it out unscathed.” Stilgar corrected her, glancing at Grey. “Well?”

“Is this what you do all day?”

“And jump off ledges. It scares the piss out of peasants.” Stilgar flashed a tired smile. “We’ve done all we can here, now to go let Megare know where we were.”

“You didn’t tell mother where we were going?” Grey stared at his father incredulous.

“Oh gods.” Fiore, pushed ahead of them. “This is going to be a loud one.”

“I may have left out a few details.” Stilgar said dryly.

“Mother would have wanted to come along.” Grey said.

“I’d rather spare her the nightmares.” Stilgar said. “I don’t think any of us are going to rest well knowing about that cave.”

“Or the ones we were too late for.”

Stilgar nodded, patting his shoulder. “Come on; let’s go face the angry dragoness.”

<<<<>>>>>

Word count came in at 998.

Other Flash Fics can be found over here

As this IS a Dragon/Elemental world snip I’ll go ahead and link over here to the other Dragon snips on the site, in chronological order.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Sunday Dragon Teaser

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

So things are a touch stressful, and when they are, my dragons start talking. So I start playing. It’s very therapeutic. Since I love my dragons, and I hope that you people will too, here is an offering. It IS a bit of a chunk. This might be a first chapter, so I guess it could be called a teaser, I’m not sure. My first chapters tend to get rearranged a lot. hmm. Anyways, enjoy?

E9 Possible First Chapter
(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

The growls and snarls echoed off the mountain peaks. The creature was covered in pale white fur and had several sets of legs on either side. Its forward graspers snatched out at the black dragon that let loose a barrage of small, hot fireballs, hitting it in the ‘face’, driving it back towards the narrow gorge it had climbed up a short while before. It roared, covering its face with one set of hands, flailing the other, trying to grab the lone dragon.

Miranda was having none of it, she back-winged out of reach, turned and flapped her wings, gaining altitude, hoping her fire reserves weren’t completely empty. She wheeled around locking her wings catching an updraft and watched the creature fumbling on the slick mossy rocks. It lowered its second set of hands, revealing a flattened ‘face’ and now singed fur. It bellowed, weaker this time and Miranda inhaled, building up the blaze. It would have to do, it would take a few weeks to build up the blaze again. She let loose the fireball with a roar, waiting till it smashed into the creature’s face again before folding her wings tight to her body and diving, front claws and rear extended.

It was almost anticlimactic. Her claws shredded it, but she was certain the heat of her flame had killed it before her claws had a chance too. She gingerly moved from the creature that was over twice her size, shaking her legs and flicking her tail. The smell of burning fur and skin filled the air, though from the looks of the clouds above, it wouldn’t linger long. She moved away from the twitching body, staring at the beast, her tail twitching.

She shifted, morphing from her dragon form to her human form as rain began to fall. It wouldn’t take long for the downpour to begin, and she saw something that required the delicate human hand, not the dragon claws. She darted forward, toward what she guessed was the middle of the beast. As wide as she was tall, it was what appeared to be a blue leather utility belt. She frowned staring at the odd, pale blue leather and swallowed.

“Oh gods.” She pulled her short sword and carefully cut the leather and tucked her sword away.

She shifted back to dragon-form, grasped the utility belt in her larger dragon-hand and scooted backward, trying to pull it out from under the beast’s stinky corpse. It got stuck as the downpour began and Miranda yanked at it, wishing she could swear when it tore near where it was stuck beneath the body. She growled, glancing around and launched into the air. She had to get back to the Keep.

 

“Greyson take a look at this.” Miranda set the wound up leather on the table. Her brother, the Dragonmaster, strode over, his movements stiff. Miranda swallowed. It was a pain day for him. He frowned, gingerly lifting the leather in his hands, staring at it for a long time before his eyes widened, face blanched and he dropped it as though it were a burning coal. He looked at her, eyes wide. “Where in the hell did you get that?”

“Is it what I think it is?” Miranda whispered.

“Dragonhide.” He looked down at it, looking ill.

“Pale blue dragonhide.” She said softly.

They looked at each other. Only one clan came with blue hides. Ice Dragons.

“There was a beast on Upper Ridge, near the Blue River. I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life.” Miranda said, looking down at the hide. “It was wearing that,”

“Wearing it?”

“There were pockets and things sewn, yes Grey, sewn onto the other side, the side that ripped.” She looked at him.

He was staring down at the hide, blank-faced. “How big was this thing?”

“Twice as big as me, bigger than you, maybe. It was moving fast. It’s dead, up on the ridge,” Miranda paced back and forth, her eyes drifting towards the blue hide on the table. “I’ve never heard of any kind of creature like that before.

Grey looked at her for a long time and she heard the low rumble, the summons. He was calling for one of the outcast Ice Dragons they’d sheltered some time ago.

One of the young women, Inez, came in. She inclined her head, looking back and forth curiously between Greyson and Miranda.

“You called, my lord?”

“Inez, Miranda encountered something in the northern range this morning that we were hoping you might be able to give us information about.” Greyson said. Miranda watched Inez’s face.

“I’ll do my best, my lord.” She said slowly.

“It was a large, white furred beast,”

“Oh.” Inez paled, her eyes widened and she swallowed, looking past them at the blue hide. She blinked rapidly and met Miranda’s eyes. “They didn’t used to come south of the lower mountains.” She whispered.

“What was it?”

She rattled off a few words that Miranda didn’t understand.

“It was just a bit larger than me.” Greyson said. Still calm. Miranda looked at him, startled. Had he understood her?

“It was young then.” She whispered, shaking her head.

“Young?” Miranda stared. It had been a long battle, a tiring battle. The only thing keeping her up was the need to know if there might be any more barreling their way.

“I’m not supposed to say.” She whispered.

“Inez, the men who made you vow silence are dead. You owe them nothing. And that creature, a young one you say, came into the fringes of our territory. If there was one,”

“Lothos stopped hunting them.” She blurted. “Years ago. Mother said it was one of the first decisions, one of the first mistakes he made.”

Miranda bit her lip, letting her continue. Lothos the fool, Lothos the crazy. Lothos the murderer.

“He thought it would keep strangers out better, reduce the need to run patrols I guess. Let our enemies be our allies. He let the great mothers take over some of the valleys in the north, and set up nests.”

“Great mothers?” Greyson asked.

“The,” Inez made an odd motion with her hands. “The ones who birth the beasts, the hunters. They took over the valleys, used up all the food, and then instead of going back to the far northern fields they started hunting us. The Outlanders.” She looked back towards the hide. “Lothos started hunting them again, it was impacting the whole clan.”

“Hunt you?” Miranda whispered.

Inex nodded and took a shuddering breath. “Between them and Lothos own inner hunt, the Outlanders fled, or were run out.” She looked at Greyson, a tear running down her cheek. “They wear our hides as trophies, hang them on walls. Tossed on the floor like rugs.”

“That’s why the Ice clans started splintering.”

Inez nodded. “Lothos started losing control. His own sons started trying to regain some order, and he killed most of them off or ran them off. Dmitri came back, the rest,” she shrugged. “I don’t know.” She glanced towards the blue hide and shuddered.

“Why would those beasts be coming down south?” Miranda asked.

Inez went over to the hide, staring down at it. Miranda wondered in a horrid way, if the she recognized the hide pattern. When she turned around she didn’t meet their eyes.

“Resources are running low. Without a Nushun,” she glanced at them, “uhm, leader, until one has been established, we are in limbo. The beasts will move south, looking for food,”

“Or move towards the settlements where your people are.” Miranda said. Inez nodded.

“Perhaps you should go back, give them some warning.” Greyson suggested.

“I can’t. We were driven out by Lothos. Disavowed. Unless the next Nushun agrees to let our family go home, we can’t enter that territory or we could be killed.”

Miranda met Greyson’s eyes. He shook his head.

“I killed it.” She said.

“Miranda,” there was a warning growl in his voice.

“I’ve run messenger to the Ice Dragons before, Grey.” She said, hooking her thumbs in her belt. Without Lothos or Otto around it was a hell of a lot safer. It would be a nice change from running patrols along the northern boarder of their lands.

“You always had Jerril or Habcore with you. Jerril’s in Tyrsleth, Habcore’s in the southern isles,”

“So? You think I can’t handle a few Ice Dragons?” Miranda asked. She glanced at Inez.

“With all due respect, Dragonmaster, she took that thing down by herself. She should have no trouble with my people. Miranda, take that,” she jerked her head towards the hide, “and go to Ice Keep. Ask for Dmitri. Show his people that, and tell them how you got it. His people will listen. They’ll pay attention.”

“He can be trusted?” Miranda asked.

Inez frowned. “If he thinks he can gain an advantage somehow, yes.”

“That’s not very comforting.” Greyson said.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

###

I hope you enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

 

You can go here for other snips and scenes in the same world.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Wednesday

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

It never looks right when I write it out.*

I’ve been plugging away on all sorts of things, bouncing around with RL stuff and writing projects that I keep forgetting to get over here to get a post up. SO, projects;

Zander book one, roughly done. There are a few things I need to go back and fill in which will bump the word count up.

Inside the Author’s Mind – I’ve been dabbling at that, I’ve gotten the one story halfway done and realized I think that’s it. I do need to pull together a cover for it now.

Zander book 2 – I thought I had about 17k on it. I poked at it, I prodded, then I realized that no, it wasn’t going to work. Book two has been started again from scratch. But I think it works better than the 17 k.

I’m going to go ahead and use it for NaNo and see how it goes. Hopefully it won’t negate Book 3 too terribly much and I won’t have to rewrite IT. >.>

OTHER stuff:

Flash Fiction; I want to get back in the habit of tossing those up on fridays. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to before the first of the year.

Elemental Series: E1 sits in limbo. I haven’t done much more than reread it in months. I know it has issues. E2 screeched to a halt, the others are also hanging in limbo as stories at the far end of the series hijack my brain. My dragons are overpowering.

I have been researching crowdfunding projects, and polls and have been putting together a tentative plan for next year. More on that if anything pulls together solidly. My brain has been very flaky lately. I was thinking of putting together some sort of ongoing series on the dragons/elementals but it’s a very vague and unformed idea.

Anywho, need to get words and do some mundane RL stuff. Have a good day.

 

*edited because it was spelled wrong. That’s why it looked wrong. **facepalms** **sigh**

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

Epiphany

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

One of my favorite unfinished novels takes place in the Zander world. Titled Velvet and the Shadow, it’s a love story of sorts. One problem I had was that the story fizzled after about… 30 or 40k. The characters kinda fell together too easily. At the time I couldn’t figure out why and I set it aside. It’s fairly far down in the ‘list’ (22 or 23 or some such number) and I figured by the time I got to it, I’d figure out why I had trouble with it.

With NaNo right around the corner I’ve been going over nano plans and projects and put together a possible rough prologue for Z BK2. That sparked a short scene idea, just a snippet which will probably never be in any book, kindof a historic glimpse of something that shaped the past of Zander’s world. I made myself cry **rollseyes**

But then I realized something about the one character who witnesses this sad event. (I will say this, there are multiple reasons I’m not comfy with snipping that here, mainly the topic is quite depressing, unrequited love & all that) This event shapes his future and how he handles things in the future.

Some of the things that lead to some other things is because of the depression he falls into post this event. The domino effects of this are far reaching, and adds to some of his issues. Yeah, if people think I’m mean to Zander, seriously wait till I start getting into Mikial’s story.

But yeah, THAT realization led me to the epiphany, the why I stalled with Velvet and the Shadow. I know why Vel & Mikial never would have fallen together that easily. They’re both deeply hurting souls, and very walled off from others. It’s going to take a lot more than what I had to bring them to any kind of understanding let along ‘together’.

**rubs hands together**

**scribbles out notes**

I also realized that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write Savna’s story.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

How the Myths still affect us

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

This post was inspired in great part by Kristine Rusch’s post Story Demands.

For years I had this dream of publishing the Zander books traditionally. I pictured them on a bookshelf in a bookstore, I would even go to waldenbooks and find where my name was and kinda scoot the books around so there would be room for them. >.>  Ever do that? :P

As brick and morter bookstores vanished (where I lived we only had chain bookstores, tehre were NO small indipendent ones) so too went the dreams of seeing the books in bookstores, and when I decided to self pub, there was a period slight mourning. I’d never ever see them in print. Ever.

Ok so that was dramatic, now I’m planning on putting out print editions eventually but for the n00b self pubber a couple years ago (a couple YEARS??? O.M.G!) it was a drastic thought, I wasn’t sure I’d ever do print copies at all.

But there were a lot of things that hung on. Sure I was going to self pub, but I was clinging to a lot of the traditional thought processes and that included how I was putting a story together and the wordcount caps.

As you can see, if you take a glance at my offerings, I have shorts up. Nothing large. A lot of reasons for this, many of them are legitimate time and RL issues (I have had some life upsets over the past year and a half that have impacted writing and publishing), but there are other reasons, a lot of them have to do with the fear issue. Fear of failure, fear of imperfection, fear of ridicule, fear of something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Larger project = heftier formatting = greater chance of typos = imperfection

And everyone has seen the ridicule self pubbers have garnered from others if they have typos and imperfections in their self edited* projects.

But then again, look at the ‘traditional’ published authors who ALSO get ridiculed. It doesn’t seem to matter who you are, if you put out something in the public eye there is going to be someone, somewhere who is going to hate it and make fun of it. Period.

I can list off numerous people who have ignored this and continued on. From musicians, to actors, writers, directors, and so on.

I can also point out people who have thrown in the towel, hundreds, thousands even, who have given up, gotten bitter, and continued on in their little lives, because somebody didn’t like what they did/said/produced so they stomped off in a hissy fit. Or just went *poof*.

Smaller projects, while still subject to dreaded typos, are less time consuming on formatting and easier to typo check (in theory). They are safer. Again in theory.

**takes a deep breath**

The projects that really move me are my big ones. The monstrocities. The doorstoppers. The ones that I got duped into believing years ago would never sell. The huge epic ones I was told that agents weren’t representing them because publishing companies aren’t going to buy them.

I’m not even going to breach the George R.R. Martin thing, I really am not. :P

So the things I learned as a nOOb writer, trying to break into the business included;

  • don’t make your first book part of a trilogy, pubbers don’t want to risk investing on an unknown whose work might not even sell.
  • Don’t make your first book larger than 90k. agents won’t shop it around because pubbers won’t buy it. Typesetting issues and cost and whatnot.
  • General fantasy and Epic fantasy no longer sell. That ship sailed in the 90s, don’t write it. UF and vampires are the ‘thing’. And romance.
  • Sex. If in doubt, toss sex on the page. The more your characters get laid, the greater chance you have of selling your book or bagging an agent, and the more explicit, the better. (I swear to dog I heard this from multiple sources!)

Now obviously these are wrong. I’m not going to tell you how to ‘bag an agent’ mainly because I don’t feel the need for one. There are other places you can go to locate that information, here is not one of those places.

But this was my understanding, among others which I am still discovering (some of these are so deep rooted I have a hard time defining what they are!) as I go along.

Last night I finished the rough draft of Bastard Prince. In came in at 52k with several placeholders in the beginning for battles and such that I need to plan out a bit better to fill in. There are some threads I need to lay, and flesh out, some plotholes which make it look like a colander (I think I could drive a jet plane through some of them XD) but it is, for lack of a better word, done.

I also pulled up what I have of bks 2 & 3 and got a good idea of what I need to do to finish them. And I saw what the myths of the trad pubbing had done to my story, and how it had tweaked with my head.

I had this story, you see. And it’s a life story. It’s Zander’s story, and it geeks me right the hell out. He’s got an intense one, with highs and lows, with loves and hates, joys and sorrows. Friendships and betrayals and all of it moves through a greater story which pushes the world he lives in to the brink, and eventually, possibly, over. And it’s important.

But to make it fit, to appease who I thought needed to be appeased to get it to the people I wanted to share it with, I came close to murdering it. One of the most important foundational parts of the story, book two (which needs a name) rings in at 16k right now with a lot of [this happens here] type of place holders.  Why? Because I was going to skim over it. I was thinking, oh this is the romance part, the slow-down part. This is the part people are going to yawn through. I can do flashbacks.

You see, even though I decided I was going to self pub it, I was still stuck thinking I was writing one book. I was locked into thinking that I needed to keep it small. I was trying to squeeze all of this huge, epic story into 90k. 17 (or was it 19?) years of world shaking events into 90k.

I sat in on a few conversations with some friends at FM as I mentioned in some posts over here, and my brain kinda rebelled, and melted and threw a full on tantrum (really, brain? REALLY?) but in the end it was like a sign from dog.

I sat down and did the outlines for books 1 – 3 and knew that this was right. This is the story I’m trying to tell. And it’s all important. And 90k just isn’t enough room to tell it all. And that led me to think about Crossroads (which is the grande finale to the Zander story). Which scares me because that is a friggen monster story and brain started doing the flailing again because brain realized that I KNEW, finally, that I didn’t have to stick to the old formulas anymore, and when it stopped its flailing and started calming down, it started thinking about the things I tossed as irrelevant to the story because of that whole 90k/bag-an-agent-go-trad thing. Things that were relevant. Things that need to be there.  I realize now that  Crossroads will be two books (I *might* divide it three ways, I’m not sure yet).

DC – stop laughing. I can hear you. Even now, through the screen I can HEAR you laughing. Stop it NOW. -.-

**clears throat**

The FM crowd, they make fun of me. My plotbunnies breed.

And you know what really bothers me? How much I have let myself be held back by traditional publishing myths. I have a lot of stories to write. I have a lot of stories to tell. Many of them, oh so many of them in Zander’s world. Zander isn’t the only character in his world that I adore. There’s Auron, Michael, Kale, Shaderunner, Rune, Tayek, Nyhavi, Tienovey(though there is a lot of Tien in Zander’s story) Ivonnova (still trying to decide on the spelling there), Caladorn, Eric(name change imminent), Brent, Uralko and so on. But without Zander’s tale, I just can’t tell the others. His is the foundation. Why? Ask brain, I just write ;)

How much further, would I have been if I had realized sooner that I didn’t have to keep it under a certain size?

You know what really makes me wonder? What other things are going to come up that are holding me back in little ways?

I can say this, (hours after I wrote all that up there)  I started reading ZBK1 today (I know I just finished it yesterday) and I found myself loving it. Just loving it. It’s rough, it needs work, and I see where I need to tweak things and I found some typos I need to fix. But I love it.

I love the words I finished working on yesterday. I don’t hate them. Another myth bites the dust.


This is why I took Angela James Before You Hit Send workshop. Seriously, worth every penny I spent on it, and if she puts it out in a book form I’m so buying it. Awesome, awesome workshop.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Today I’m working on Zander and maybe some formatting. Have some music.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Newsish stuff

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

This past week I landed myself in the ER.

It threw my whole schedule off just a wee bit. There have been tests, and phone calls. I don’t know yet what exactly is going on, I’ll be making more phone calls Monday to various financial and dr offices to get answers for multiple questions about how the hell I’m going to pay for continued care (we’re in-between insurance coverage for me, tho the kids and hubs are all covered. I left myself off). I am not on death’s door. I’m just very fatigued.

Today I’m working on wrapping up the Inside the Author’s Mind story collection, writing (there are only a couple more stories to write to wrap it up) and formatting it. Tomorrow I’ll put together a new cover and hopefully sometime next week I’ll have it up for sale.

Have a great weekend folks.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Music and the writer – Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I know this isn’t universal, but I find I write best with music playing. But not just anything. I don’t just turn on the radio, or random playlist and let music play. I have playlists. I have theme songs. Certain songs evoke certain moods and make me think of certain stories. My first completed novel was written to four songs played endlessly over and over (and drove my hubby NUTS I tell you!). Well lately, as I’ve been working on Zander I’ve had another character, the ice dragon, talking at me. Yesterday, I discovered music that fits him.

I’ve also had other music, songs that fit other situations and characters.

~*~


Lux Aeterna – from the movie Requiem for a Dream (most people don’t know that this part is only part of the full song which is something like 18 min long, but this part is the epic bit I love). This is Zander’s story. All of it. Laid out in music. Close your eyes, listen, hear the swells and receeds, feel the power building, that’s Zander’s story. and it leaves you almost breathless with it’s intensity. (Or it does me)

~*~


I see this as a clip, a video of sorts of Zander’s kids :P . Glimpsing each of their adventures, I would love to do a digi video set to this music with the end of it a picture of Zander surrounded by the five of them. **sigh** :D

~*~

Grey’s story. Hands down. It’s an achingly beautiful song (IMO) and it’s just…it’s Grey and Nekita.

~*~

This always makes me think of E2 for some reason, which is one of my Nano Projects for this year.

~*~


And finally this, The Promise by Vas. This song, and other songs by Azam Ali (the singer of Vas) were what I was listening to while writing E1. I have no idea what language it is in, I think Turkish? But I’m not sure.

So, as my Sunday Serenity post, what music, if any, helps you write? Inspires you? Have a great Sunday yall!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Sat Snippery

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Wrote this up last night by the light of an oil lamp. Seriously. Long story. First of all, this is pre-story to the Elemental Wars series. This takes place many many many years before any of the other snips (except this one) I’ve done, though a few of the characters who have shown up here are in this. I’ve done a quick edit, nothing major. I wrote part of this by hand then the rest on the computer. I LIKE this. I may continue, this is a complicated story and this situation is a huge part of what sets EVERYTHING in motion. I don’t know though, I have a lot on my mind and right now, Zander it my big priority. but yeah, have some dragons.

 

How it all began…

Lady Aunusha,

It is with deepest regret I inform you that Lothos refuses you entry to the hall. He states your missing seeress is not there. I do have my doubts to his sincerity. 

                                                                        Dmitri

 ~*~

Dmitri,
This is unacceptable, her pleas for help originate from his hall. Tell Lothos to return her or I will call on the Dragonmaster for assistance in this matter.

                                                                         Aunusha

~*~

 Lady Aunusha,
That is not possible. I’m sorry.

                                                                        Dmitri.

~*~

  Dmitri
You have a choice, give us access to the Hall, or face my wrath.

                                                                         Stilgar

~*~

 Your threats are unwarranted, Dragonmaster. But if you think you can find me, you’re welcome to try. Come into the Ice Ranges at your own risk. I will say this though, Lothos is going to be in Sian until mid-summer. The high ranges are particularly lovely this time of year.

                                                                         Dmitri

~*~

 These letters were found some years after Stilgar’s death, and are attributed to the events of raid on the Hall of *Ice Keep* in the year [year here].

~*~

 High Ranges. Some distance north of Ice Keep, year ????.

 The wind blew right through him, despite his thick hide. Greyson crouched lower to the rock, shifted his wings, and glanced towards his sire. Stilgar, the Dragonmaster, perched on a ridge, peering into the blinding snow. Beside him, his first and second advisors, Habcor and Fiore waited restlessly.

Stilgar’s head snapped to the side and he bellowed. Grey looked in the direction his sire was, but saw nothing. Nothing but swirling clouds, and wind-driven snow and ice. A strange bellow filled the air, an odd deeper tone than Grey had heard. Stilgar craned his neck around, looking back at them, rumbling out.

“This is it, follow me. Our guide is damn near impossible to see in this weather.”

“There’s someone up there?” Toura, on Grey’s right called.

Stilgar rumbled as another one of those odd bellows shattered the air. “Yes and he’s getting impatient. He’s risking his life, come on, lets go.”

Stilgar launched into the air, his advisors close behind him. Grey followed, he barely knew these others, He’d been included as an afterthought. His first mission, his first trip to the Ice Ranges. He was flanked by some of his father’s trusted hunters as they followed Stilgar who was following some elusive beast through the stormy clouds. Once, in a break in the clouds, he thought he saw the outline of a large gray-blue dragon, but more clouds swirled around them and he couldn’t see where the creature went. Stilgar veered downward, they followed, though Grey was hesitant. They were flying blind in the mountains. Following  a stranger, though Stilgar seemed to trust him. Ice Dragons weren’t trustworthy though. He could imagine being tricked into flying into the mountain sides. He tried to shake the thought off but it haunted him, even as they followed a weaving path through shadowy peaks, and narrow, high canyons.

Then they were landing in front of a narrow cave entrance. The large bulk of the gray ice dragon shifted to the shape of a pale, blond man in heavy blue leathers and matching robe. He watched them, expressionless. A deep purple bruise marred pale skin on the left side of his face.

Grey shifted, standing back as his sire and the advisors strode forward, each grasping the man’s arm in greeting.

“This is it?” Stilgar looked at the cave entrance doubtfully.

“Are you sure she’s in there?” Habcor asked.

“Are you sure anyone’s in there?” Fiore asked. She shivered, rubbing her upper arms in the brisk wind.

The ice dragon looked at her. “There’s always someone in there.” He stepped to one side. “I can’t go in there.”

“Afraid?” Toura sneered.

The ice dragon said nothing, just arched an eyebrow and looked at Stilgar.

“How far back is she?”

“There are a few cells, four, maybe five. I’ve only seen a couple. Been in one or two of them myself.” A shudder ran through him. “You need to hurry. I can’t be here when you get out, if they catch you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Understood. Thank you, Dmitri.” Stilgar offered his arm and the ice dragon draped a heavy fur over his arm.

“She won’t have anything.” He stepped back again, turned, and launched, shifting faster than Grey had ever seen, his wings driving snow and gravel at them as he vanished again into the heavy, low clouds.

“That is one big dragon.” Someone muttered.

“Here, take this.” Stilgar handed Grey the fur. “When, and if, we find her, you get her back to the Oracle, understand?”

“Why me?” Grey asked before he could stop himself. His sire’s eyes narrowed and he swallowed.

“You met her at the gathering last summer, she knows who you are.” Habcor said.

Grey looked back and forth, and nodded, understanding at last. That’s why they chose him to come along. That’s why he was there, he swallowed. He followed them into the narrow cave, looking for the soft-spoken seeress who had vanished some months before.

 

###

:)

DRAGONS!
You can find more dragon snips over here

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Fun Fun

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

It’s been a long day. An interesting day. With some good, with some bad, and some things I’ll need to work on fixing.

So here, have some dragons;

 

Miranda stared at the ice encrusted mountain. Ice Keep. Traditional home of the Ice Dragons. She settled on the ridge, glad for the clear skies and light wind. In a storm it would be dangerous to approach. She craned her neck, looking around. Grey said there would be sentries. He said there were always sentries.

When she turned around she saw the larger blue gliding, hard to see against the blue sky. She swallowed, straightened, and coiled her tail around her feet. She hoped there would be a warm fire at the end of this.

The blue glided closer, glancing her way, then turned with curving back towards the keep in a lazy glide. Miranda didn’t move. She only knew Dmitri, and he from a distance. This wasn’t Dmitri. The blue gave out an odd call, nothing like she’d heard from her own kind. From somewhere within the keep another call echoed out as several more ice dragons, their hides ranging from a pale gray to deep blue came out in a flight formation. Miranda stayed still. She was a messenger from the Dragonmaster. These were wild, near-ferals. Below her.

She heard the deeper, familiar, bellow and turned, tensing without meaning to, watching the larger beast swing into view. Dmitri. Who could blend in against the ice. Only living son of Lothos. She wanted to hate him as much as she hated his sire and Otto for what they’d done to her family. Instead she sort of felt sorry for him. How awful it must have been to have to pull the pieces of your life together after having it shattered by the actions of such selfish, power hungry creatures.

He back-winged, landing on an out-jutting rock, and gave a motion. Time to shift. Time to talk. Miranda took a deep breath and inclined her head, melting into her human form. When she looked up, he, and the other now human shaped dragons, were walking towards her. None looked friendly. Dmitri had no expression on his face. Ice dragon. Cold. Ice for eyes, ice for soul they said. There was no warmth there. Miranda swallowed.

She rested a hand on the hilt of her short sword, meeting Dmitri’s eyes. Pale eyebrow arched. She wasn’t defenseless, not as dragon, not as human, he’d best remember that.

“You’re far from your ranges, Miranda.” Dmitri said when he stopped, a few feet away. The others flanked him.

“I bring a message from my brother.” She looked at her fingernails and frowned. One looked a touch jagged. She sensed the impatience from the others though Dmitri hadn’t made a move.

“Indeed?” He said finally.

“Something about a Grande Council.” She pulled the scroll out and started to hand it to him. He waved it away with a shake of his head and frowned.

“Grande Councils are for leaders.”

“You’re,” She swallowed, finding it difficult to say Lothos’s name. Lothos was the old leader, Otto had taken his place, but it was supposed to go to Dmitri, right?

“It doesn’t work that way here.” Dmitri said.

###

 

:D

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Today I will write, relax, finish the short, and try not to stress about rl stuff tomorrow (trying to get wheels so I can take care of rl issues).  Have some sand art.

 

 

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Some things

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Take a moment, watch this. As a writer, think about what it is you’re doing.

 

I don’t know about you, but this is my favorite scene from that movie. As a kid I would sing this song as I led our family dogs through the backyard and into a world of imagination. As I got older, I found my backyard became the world of Pern and I was a dragonrider (somehow swings became dragons, don’t ask I’m still not sure :P ), then other times it became the side of an Integral Tree from Larry Niven’s  Smoke Ring stories.  Sometimes it was the setting of the Enterprise and I was on a voyage with Capt Picard and all them, and so on.

I read voraciously as a kid and a teen. Sadly I don’t read as much now as I did then, which is something I’m trying to change. Writers need to read after all!

But as a writer, do you know what we’re really doing?

Like Willy Wonka in the movie, we’re holding out our hands to the reader, we’re saying “Come with me, come play in my world, come see what I dream about, meet the characters that move me. Come on, don’t be shy, jump right in!”

There is a lot of drabble out there, talk about readers as if they are some stupid non-entities we’re trying to get to open their wallets and pour out their hard earned into our pockets. But that’s not the right mindset, if you ask me. I want my readers, all eight of you (:P just kidding, there are twelve of you! XD), to walk the roads of my imagination. I want you to be able to enjoy the adventures of my elementals and dragons in the Elemental stories, to stand with Zander against incredible odds in the Avaria stories, to walk the paths of the ancients in the phfr stories.

I have all these stories, I have all these characters, I hope one day you’ll all get a chance to meet them.

Fellow writers, remember when you get discouraged and down that somewhere out there is a kid in his or her backyard playing out the adventures you’re writing about. Whether its aliens in alaska, or out of control spam, or crazy squirrels and dimensional rifts, there’s someone out there who is waiting and loving every word you write.

Write for you, and know someone, somewhere will love it.

~*~

In final I saw today on my newsfeed on facebook that Anne (A.C.) Crispin passed away this morning from cancer. I don’t know the details, I was unaware she was ill until just a few months ago and it made me very sad. I had one, brief interaction with her, some years ago (5+ I believe) and we discussed books and she was super encouraging. Goodbye Anne, another great gone. **sigh**

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

Sappy snippage

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

ok, as promised, sappy scene.
This takes place about 6 months or so after the dragon battle (the timeline is all fuzzy though and I’ve been changing things). It may, or may not wind up in the final version, but if it does get cut another, similar scene will replace it. Honestly it gives me warm fuzzies and after the hell Greyson and Nekita go through, they earned it.

~*~

“Are you okay?” Jerril asked after a long pause.

Greyson eyed his brother. “For now. Better than I have been in a while.” He inhaled the old familiar scents. “Good to be home.”

Jeril nodded. “Alright, I’m off to the Keep then. ”

Greyson nodded and watched him walk out. “Finally.”

He carefully made his way back to his quarters. It had taken almost all morning to clear the whole damn mountain out. For the first time in the three months since he’d resumed his duties he had the afternoon clear. Nekita hadn’t said anything, her quiet presence helping him through the pain. She needed him, without the distractions of the clan’s coming and going. He couldn’t find her in their quarters, nor anywhere else.

“Where the hell is she?” he muttered. Crazy woman.

“She said she was going for a walk!” the healer called when he entered the large common hall.

“Did she say where?”

“This is Nekita,” the healer paused. “Someplace she probably shouldn’t be. Think high and dangerous.”

Greyson sighed and nodded. Nekita being Nekita. He went to the entry shifting carefully. The pain sharpened momentarily then faded. He felt stronger, launching into the air and catching the updraft. The surge of excitement was only dimmed by the search for his slightly neurotic soulmate. The woman would drive him insane.

He found her, as he half expected her to be, perched on a pillar of rock, looking down at the clouds passing beneath her. She straightened and smiled as he landed on the nearby mountainside, shifting and carefully making his way closer.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see if the view was better over here, as compared to over where you are.” Nekita took his hand and let him help her across the chasm between them. He drew her against him, feeling her body seem to melt. She kissed him making his head spin.

“And was it?” he asked, hands moving over her slim form. She shook her head.

“No, there’s that peak over there…” He cut her off, kissing her again. His hand slid over her abdomen and he froze breaking away from her looking down sharply and using both hands to stretch the material of her tunic across her belly.

“Uhm…”

“You’re pregnant.” He looked up at her.

“You noticed that too?” She laughed weakly. “The spell that made me barren wore off. I didn’t realize it until a few months ago.”

He glanced towards the pillar of rock, ready to shake her. “And you risked yourself…”

“Don’t start Grey.” She pulled away, carefully picking her way back down the trail she must have come up.

“…And our child to climb a rock to look at the view?” he continued following her closely, his mind both frozen and tumbling in all directions. She was pregnant! “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She stopped and turned, looking at him. “I was going to, before we came here. I… you were busy. These matters needed your attention.” She turned back and half slid. Grey caught her, arm around her pulling her back against him. “My balance is totally fucked.” She muttered.

“Nekita.” He turned her in his arms, searching her face, pressing one hand against her belly, their child. Damn but she was beautiful. “I’m never too busy for you love.”

She lowered her eyes covering his hand with hers. She looked as though she were about to say something and then shook her head.

“I have most everyone away on errands. I thought we could spend some time together.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She brushed her fingers against his cheek smiling.

“I would like that.”

He kissed her again, holding her close.

 

###

 

ok last one. :P

Night yall!

(c)2013 Necia Phoenix

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Dragon Battle Snip

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Ok, so this was going to go at the end of E7, grande finale, kaboom… I made some changes and this scene, as much as I LURVES it, is getting tossed. BUT I thought I’d toss it up here for a few of you to look at. This post is slated to be pulled down in a day or two, fyi.

It’s also going on the premise that you’ve had about 7 books to meet and greet these people, sorry if it’s too confusing.

~*~

“That is a big fucking army.” Jeril murmured.

Greyson turned towards Tier, about to point out where the ice dragon, Otto, was, when he heard the rumble. The hair on the back of his neck rose.

He looked sharply back to the dais across the field. Where Seeress Kera, Nekita and Otto watched the proceedings. Both women had turned to look at Otto. The Ice Dragon rumbled again.  Greyson shook his head, stepping away from the small official huddle, moving towards a larger clearing. The rumble came again, a threat delivered in a manner few dragons used anymore, if they even knew how. Greyson responded with his own, not thinking about it. It was a warning and promise of pain. He stilled listening for a response. Both armies had fallen silent, the lull before the storm. Everything was going to plan. Except this.

Another rumble, louder, enough to make those closest the Otto turn and stare. Greyson felt his dragon rising to the surface in response. People were moving restlessly around him, he was aware of the whispers, of the confusion around him as he responded again. It was getting personal.

“Grey, now is not the time for this.” Habcor hissed. Grey nodded absently, eyes locked on the ice dragon. The man was far too close to Nekita for his liking. “Greyson!”

He jerked his attention to his advisor. “What?”

“You’re mottling. What’s he saying?”

Before he could answer Otto rumbled again and Greyson’s attention snapped back to him. The ice dragon sneered, resting a hand on Nekita’s shoulder, though she batted it away with a glare. Greyson felt the growl and couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted to. He strode away from the group, fighting the dragon, trying to stay contained long enough to get to a place with more room. If he shifted here it was likely he’d kill someone. Once he was clear he would shift and he would shred the ice beast apart for laying a hand on his mate.

Otto dropped from the dais, striding forward, pushing people aside. Greyson shifted as soon as he felt he was clear, and let himself sink into the mind of the beast. He bellowed the challenge, throwing every ounce of power he could at the ice dragon. Overhead his own people faltered, moving rapidly out of the way. He could see Nekita shaking her head slowly, the Seeress bitch screaming at Otto as the big man leapt, shifting almost before his feet left the ground.

He sprang up, ignoring Otto’s brassy challenge, letting loose a fireball as he went. To hell with the war, this creature was going to die.

 

Jeril stared in sheer disbelief as the two large males slammed into each other in midair, a crash that shook the ground, a confusing ball of snarls, growls and the occasional fireball. He was still staring when someone grabbed his shoulder whirling him about.

“What the hell is he doing?” Tier asked, his voice even though there was a wild look about the eyes.

“Fighting.” Jeril looked back up. The two had begun a chase higher into the sky, partially concealed by the clouds, the brass bellows and growls echoing over the stunned watchers below.

“Fighting he says.” Tier muttered something in Nekarian and gave Jeril a half shake. “We have a situation on our hands…”

“Tier I have no answers for you. I don’t think he…” Jeril looked back up as the two huge beasts fell towards the ground.

“Oh gods.” Habcor whispered, Jeril’s mouth went dry.

Neither dragon seemed to notice they were falling until it was too late and though the big blue had his wings extended to catch any updraft there just wasn’t the time. Grey hit the ground first, the blue beast atop him, the ground itself seemed to groan beneath them. A loud, stomach churning crack echoed. They rolled apart, still snarling, wings out though both were ragged looking and the ice dragon’s wings looked unusable. Jeril glanced across towards where the Seeress and Nekita stood. Kera looked furious, Nekita was watching intently one hand pressed against her mouth. For some reason Jeril felt a little bit better. At least she looked the part of the concerned lover.

“He’s dragging his legs, Jeril, you see that?” Habcor murmured.

Jeril looked, heart sinking. Greyson was crouched, wings extended and tail twitching the constant hiss and growling echoing over the stunned masses. Each movement was clumsy, Habcore was right, his back legs weren’t moving just right. The ice dragon circled, hissing, one wing sail shredded, the other hanging by skin. Blood was flowing from both of them from multiple bites, tears and scratches.

“I dunno how either one of em is going to live.” Habcor hissed. Jeril nodded and glanced back towards Nekita. She was staring at him. He could see it in her face, she knew. She looked down, said something and Kera turned towards her, blocking his view. Something shifted. From Kera’s back sprang a blade and red began to trickle down her back.

“Holy shit.” Someone whispered. He looked towards Greyson in time to see his brother tear out the throat of the ice dragon whose attention had swung around towards the women.

“Brace yourselves.” Tier shouted. Jeril ignored him and began running towards the field where Greyson was.

The shockwave rumbled past them, almost knocking Jeril off his feet. Power rolled from where Kera lay crumpled on the ground and he felt the pain in his head, promising to become a crushing pressure, then it simply faded away. He slowed, passing the body of the ice beast, glancing towards the Nekarian army. Many were going backwards as the southern dragons wheeled away, heading south as fast as they could. He couldn’t see either of the women. He hoped, prayed that whatever Kera had done that it hadn’t killed Nekita in the process. If she died there would be no hope for Greyson.

Greyson’s eyes were closed, his breathing labored and his body twisted unnaturally. Jeril did a quick tally and what he found made him sick to his stomach. He swallowed, and drew on the power he rarely had to use. He was son of a Dragonmaster, it was in his blood to be able to lead their people.

“Grey, you have to change.” Jeril whispered .

Greyson made no move, though Jeril was certain his brother could hear him. Jeril took a deep breath, aware there was a crowd gathering behind him. Greyson’s breathing hitched and Jeril closed his eyes directing his will on his brother.

Change. He felt the power, building up around him, he opened his eyes. Damit Greyson change!

The air around them shimmered and grew hazy. When it cleared Greyson had shifted and lay on his side. Jeril glanced around startled. Habcor and Miranda and several others were in their dragon forms and had encircled him and Greyson wings extended; blocking the curious from seeing them. A healer woman nodded at him and they both went to Greyson’s side.

~*~

Good evening.

 

:D

(c)2013 Necia Phoenix

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

September First – Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

It is raining. A good start to september if you ask me. Mabon is right around the corner(the 22nd for those not in the know) and it is going to be a great month. I am going to be doing some rearranging and re-planning stuff, more news on that front later this week.

Have some soothing Enya, and have a great day!

 

 

 

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Summer Wrap Up

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Well writing wise that was slightly disappointing. But I do tend to expect too much from myself. I think, starting next summer, I’ll just suspend big writing goals during the summer. There’s just too much going on.

The kids have been in school for a week, I’ve been catching up on housework and stuff. And wrapping up a badly overdue story (I’m sorry DC!!!). One thing I have managed to do is finally jump and start studying Russian. Why Russian? Why not? I love it. I really do.

Self Pubbing:
I haven’t put out a new project in months. I haven’t been focused on it. For multiple reasons. It’s time to jump back in the saddle so to speak, which means I have some catching up to do. What I was doing a year and a half ago might not be the best methods to get it done (I’m talking formatting here). I have some things I need to wrap up(stories/editing/books), and I need to update covers. I need to overhaul the web-page, put together a reasonable (and do-able) publishing schedule. I love the possibilities we have these days, even if it’s a touch overwhelming.

In the next week or so I’ll be working on research, cover-updates (mainly with the earlier ones) and wrapping up the Inside the Author’s Mind series, and figuring out what needs to get tackled next.

Have a great Labor Day Weekend (If you’re in the USA)!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Tomorrow my kids go back to school. I’m excited. Actually so are they. Routines are about to come back into my life!!!  :D

 

Have something inspiring, something which always makes ME smile.

 

 

and as a bonus, here’s a post on having fun written by Dean Wesley Smith on Having fun while writing.

Have a great day folks.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Holy Crap

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Where has the summer gone?  That was a rhetorical question, no need to actually answer LOL.

So I’ve thinking. Lots of thinking, and I realized I need to sit down and re-plan everything. From next projects, to releases, to covers, even to this website. It all needs an overhaul. I feel like I need to ‘Go back to the beginning’  and re-learn everything. There have been changes to the self pubbing world and I need to catch up.

I have many projects, some would say too many, and my writing tapered off a bit over the past year because of that dreaded real life thing. Last post I listed off my To-Do list.  So here it is again:

~Get the Inside the Author’s Mind collection together. By sept 1st running out of time on this. have a couple more stories to go write up for it. may push the date back to the 15th.
~Write up SOMETHING for the FM Anthology; By Aug 15  Still working on this. I have idea, just getting it down. Yes the deadline passed. It whistled loudly as it went by. **sigh**
~Finish Zander BK1 (before Oct?)
~Finish The Fallen
~Finish editing E1 and start putting it up either here and/or Wattpad. Still debating this one. On one hand I think it would be really cool, on the other…. i dunno.
~Write Zander bk2
~Finish E2
~Write up the Zombie christmas thing before christmas THIS year :P
~Write up E3 – E7
~Write Zander bk 3-5
~Write CoB series
~Don’t forget the Friday Flash stuff
~Breathe

Adding:
~Overhaul covers do a typo check in works already up (I’m paranoid)
~Re-organize website & blogging schedule

I need to rethink summers. In this house, with as many kids as I have, writing just doesn’t happen. I think next summer I’ll just go on hiatus for the summer. Stressing about writing on top of everything else… it just isn’t a good situation.

There’s more, but I’m drawing a blank. Hope yall are doing well. School starts next monday. I’m a mite bit excited. :P

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

August Is here

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

On the 26th, my monkeys will be returning to school. I love them, I adore them, I love that we are a happy (big) family. But I will admit we are all looking forward to school starting.

This summer has been filled with surprises and unexpected events. Good things, but things which have thrown me WAY off.

I wanted to submit a story to this year’s FM Anthology and while I have a few vague ideas, I don’t have anything really concrete. I may pull out my mind mapping app on my tablet to figure it out. While the deadline was pushed back to the 15th, that gives me 10 days. Not sure, with back to school stuff in full gear, that I could manage it.

I also have things to prepare for a September releases, which include compiling the Inside the Author’s Mind collection. I’ve got three more stories to scribble up for it and I just haven’t had the presence of mind to do it.

Zander story is sitting at 37k. I love this incarnation of this tale. Last week was, in a word, brutal. So I didn’t get as many words in it as I wanted/planned to. But life happens, and there’s always tomorrow.

E1. Ahh, so what the heck will I do with this one? See, I have a lot of projects planned. When I work on one, say, E1, I get to feeling guilty for not working on Zander. When I work on Zander I feel guilty for sitting and not working on E1 which is mostly finished.  Or Fallen, which needs one or two added scenes to it. I really want to get past this silly guilt thing. I also need to decide on titles for the whole elemental series.

The Plan (haha) as it stands now. (I should add, some of these aren’t dated and aren’t necessarily a list for the ‘rest of the year’ just a list of what’s next on the list);

~Get the Inside the Author’s Mind collection together. By sept 1st
~Write up SOMETHING for the FM Anthology; By Aug 15
~Finish Zander BK1 (before Oct?)
~Finish The Fallen
~Finish editing E1 and start putting it up either here and/or Wattpad.
~Write Zander bk2
~Finish E2
~Write up the Zombie christmas thing before christmas THIS year :P
~Write up E3 – E7
~Write Zander bk 3-5
~Write CoB series
~Don’t forget the Friday Flash stuff
~Breathe

Breathing is important.

As you can see only three things have actual deadlines on this list. And at least one of those might not happen. I refuse to feel guilty about it.

Website stuff; Heads up, there was an issue with the payment thing for the website. It will be resolved Friday, but in the meantime the website might go poof until then. Don’t panic, it’ll be back. I promise. Now to get to rl stuff so I can get to writer stuff. Have a good week folks.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

It’s Sunday…

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I hope yours is going peacefully. Mine has been…difficult. Have some beautiful music;

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter
Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

Ok, was writing and this scene…totally unplanned, just exploded into my brain.

 

~*~

The floor was a checkerboard of marble, the pale white blocks looked like clouds, just hovering beneath their feet. As they passed over the darker marble Zander glanced down and froze, heart pounding in his ears. There were faint sparkles on a bed of inky black. Some of the squares had hazy, stretched out shapes. He crouched, staring down at one of the squares. The hazy shape, which reminded him of a shield, was made up of tiny pin-pricks of light that was spinning very slowly. He swallowed, slightly dizzy, trying to convince himself it was only in his mind. No one else seemed to notice, they continued down one of the hallways, talking about the scandals and intrigue that the Lords and Ladies of Tweng involved themselves in. He touched the black marble. Stone, cool to the touch. Nothing special, though he felt a tingle moving over his senses. Magic. Rahaun magic.

“They’re stars.” A quiet voice said behind him. He half turned, meeting eyes with a smiling rahaun woman.

“Stars?” He looked down at the marble. The spinning hazy thing glittered up at him. “How do you get them in the stone?”

“Magic.” She grinned and tapped her temple. “We all came from the stars, you know. Some of us, well we watch the nighttime sky to see where we came from. When we can we project what we’ve studied here, so we can study them anytime. That’s a Galaxy. A city of stars.”

“You…made these?” He looked back down.

“Not that one.” She pointed towards a hallway. “All the Starcatchers contribute. Mine are up that way, if you’d like to see.”

“How do you get stars in marble?” A million questions were biting at him. “I’ve never heard of starcatchers before.”

“There aren’t many anymore.” She shrugged.

“How do you get it into the marble?”

“We project it.” She squinted. “It’s a trade secret.”

“Of course.”

“Come on Zander! We’re on limited time here.”  Hayner bellowed.

“Coming!”  He turned back but the Starcatcher was gone. He frowned, turning around slowly. No sign of her.

###

 

Have a great weekend!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

Just a snip

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I wrote this up earlier and thought people might enjoy it.

~*~

“I’ve seen sarukai horses before, but that one, I’ve never seen his equal.” Bastien looked at Kiameh.

“Gryphan is from an old bloodline, the Talunian, used by the Emperors in the Citadel of Talun. They say they were infused with fae magic.” Kiameh smiled, an odd, calculating smile. “He is less a beast of burden and more a fellow Sarukai.”

“He’s one they call an ageless.” Touric added.

Zander looked at him. “Ageless?”

Touric took a deep breath. “When I was a child I watched them offload him from a cargo ship down in Byrnum. I was assured he was well into his third decade.”

“And how old are you now?” Bastien asked.

“Halfway through my second eon.” Touric looked at them and gave a crooked smile. “Like humes, rahaun and other races, there are those the gods give longevity. Form doesn’t seem to matter. Gryphan and other Ageless, have their own duties, though we’re not entirely sure what they are.”

 

As established earlier in the story;

Sarukai are elite warriors, guardians of the northern empire
Hume are human/othercreature hybrids that have developed over time. True humans don’t actually exist anymore.
Rahaun – race of beings who use ‘magic’/ powers that humes don’t usually have. Some have called them elves, though I don’t feel that’s a correct term.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Tags:

Just a snip

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I wrote this up earlier and thought people might enjoy it.

~*~

“I’ve seen sarukai horses before, but that one, I’ve never seen his equal.” Bastien looked at Kiameh.

“Gryphan is from an old bloodline, the Talunian, used by the Emperors in the Citadel of Talun. They say they were infused with fae magic.” Kiameh smiled, an odd, calculating smile. “He is less a beast of burden and more a fellow Sarukai.”

“He’s one they call an ageless.” Touric added.

Zander looked at him. “Ageless?”

Touric took a deep breath. “When I was a child I watched them offload him from a cargo ship down in Byrnum. I was assured he was well into his third decade.”

“And how old are you now?” Bastien asked.

“Halfway through my second eon.” Touric looked at them and gave a crooked smile. “Like humes, rahaun and other races, there are those the gods give longevity. Form doesn’t seem to matter. Gryphan and other Ageless, have their own duties, though we’re not entirely sure what they are.”

 

As established earlier in the story;

Sarukai are elite warriors, guardians of the northern empire
Hume are human/othercreature hybrids that have developed over time. True humans don’t actually exist anymore.
Rahaun – race of beings who use ‘magic’/ powers that humes don’t usually have. Some have called them elves, though I don’t feel that’s a correct term.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Monday Morning

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

I wanted to do a Sunday Serenity post yesterday, but I was so serene I napped on the couch while watching River Monsters! LOL

Today’s agenda (because I really know yall want to know) are to run a couple errands, clean my living room carpet, and write. Just waiting on the bank to open so I can go.  Am thinking of putting together some research links for fellow writers, but for now I just don’t have the time. Anyways, here’s a vid for you, have a great Monday!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter
Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

So I’ve been slack on getting these written. That whole summer thing I mentioned a few weeks ago, yeah, that’s in full swing. ANYWAYS, here is another Inside the Author’s Mind installment. I giggled through this one and hope I’m not the only one who enjoys it. The last one is over here.

 

Where’d the Muse Go?

(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

The Author stood at the doorway to Muse’s office and sighed. Empty. It was deafeningly empty. Author sighed again and went over to the desk, trying to decide what to do. She wanted to work on the next project. But she needed Muse to help her with it. And Muse, was very clearly not there. Author frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d seen or talked to her. Phone call. That’s right, there was a call about something. Author scowled at the empty room, trying to remember what the call was about.

“IE sent her on vacation.” A voice said behind her.

Author turned.It was one of the Redshirts. He was bruised, bandaged from head to toe, and leaning on a cane. Author winched and forced a smile, trying to remember his name. Cole, that’s right, the one Muse asked her not to kill. Well, not in this story. Author smothered a cackle. There were always other stories to write, and situations to kill off Redshirts.

“I beg your pardon?” She tried to focus on what he’d said.

“IE sent her on vacation so you could finish the book without more shinys.” He shrugged.

“Did she say where?”

Cole shook his head and frowned. “Muse was really excited about it, though. Might want to ask IE, if you can get IE to tell you.” He turned and limped out of the room.

Author frowned. Muse hadn’t wanted him to be killed off. Perhaps, she’d spare him indefinitely. She glanced over the room sighed again and left.

 

IE; Internal Editor, also known as Number 1 and lately; the-damn-thing-that-won’t-shut-up, sat at the desk happily red penning the newly finished story. Author watched it for a moment, trying to gather herself. It looked like a child of two or three. Hair flopped over large eyes. Author had never assigned a gender to it. It simply was. And it had held her stalled on her latest project for years. It took being tied and trunked for Author to finally finish that project.

“Ok, IE, where’d you send her?” Author rested hands on hips. IE barely glanced her way, but smirked.

“Away. She’ll be gone a while. Long enough for you to work on the edits.”

Author screamed. She couldn’t help it. After all she’d just spent months plowing away at ONE story. She glared at IE, took a deep breath and screamed again. She wanted, no she craved something new, something different. Something…flashy, something shiny! IE stared at her with huge, overlarge eyes. It sat back in the chair and took a deep breath.

“I…I sent her to Daydream Paradise Beach.” It whispered. “On the Train of Thought.”

Author stared, aware that other story bits were peeking around the corner of the door to stare, wide eyed, into her office. Plot elements, Story Arcs, a couple redshirts, a main character and lined up in the doorway, noses twitching, were an assortment of plotbunnies. Author glared at them and they scattered faster than she’d seen them scatter before. She made a quiet note of it, for the next time the plots began to plod along. They could move faster, she’d seen them do it!

“I see.” Author shuffled through the paperwork on her desk looking for her phone. “You sent my Muse to a beach.” She found the phone, flipping it open and tapped in the number to the Train of Thought Vacation Offices.

“Well, I figured you needed some peace and,”

“You send a Muse to a tropical resort.” Author pinned a dark look at IE as the phone rang. “How in the hell are we going to cover the shipping costs for bringing back all her plotbunnies?”

IE looked horrified. “I hadn’t thought of that.” It whispered.

Author didn’t think it had. Muse had a very prolific imagination. The last time she went on vacation…when she returned Author had to hire contractors to widen the waiting room. Vacations were dangerous things in the hands of a Muse. She was about to remind IE of that when the operator picked up.

“Hi, yes, I need to book a single round trip to Daydream Paradise Beach. Yes of course! Immediately!” Author listened, scowled and pulled out her wallet. She glared at IE. “You owe me, BIG time for this one!”

IE ducked it’s head down, but said nothing. Author ignored it, turned and headed to her room to pack. She’d take her bathing suit, might as well catch some sun while looking for Muse. And a few extra plotbunny cages. Just in case.

###

Here is  the Forward Motion Flash Friday blog which lists other folks who do Flash Friday posts. :)


 

If you’d like to see other installments of the Inside the Author’s Mind series, they are available on Smashwords where, for the month of July, they’re free.*
Linked below; The coupon code is SSW50

The Shiny - With coupon is free
Redshirts - With coupon is free
Muse Interrupted - With coupon is free

Other Titles

The Magic Maker - With coupon is 50% off; $1.50
Playing For The Dead - With coupon is free
Help Never Came - With coupon is 50% off; $1.75
River Of Souls - With coupon is free

*They’re also available over at B&N, Amazon and Kobo, but they’re not free-with-coupon over there right now.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Sunday Serenity

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

 

 inspirational-quotes-pictures (2)

 

Have a peaceful day!

 

 


 

Smashwords is holding a coupon special for the month of July. I’ve signed up all my titles for it. Linked below; The coupon code is SSW50

The Shiny - With coupon is free
Redshirts - With coupon is free
Muse Interrupted - With coupon is free
The Magic Maker - With coupon is 50% off; $1.50
Playing For The Dead - With coupon is free
Help Never Came - With coupon is 50% off; $1.75
River Of Souls - With coupon is free

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

TGIF? No, for me it’s Monday

Zander

Originally published at Necia Phoenix. You can comment here or there.

My hubs only has one day off a week That was yesterday. So as everyone else is moving towards the weekend we’re just starting our new workweek. Blarg. That sums it up pretty well. So. Writing.

I’m currently (as in, in the other window) working on the final two installments of Inside The Author’s Mind, they’re going to be small, they average under 1k, so if I can get them done they’ll be up for Flash Fiction friday later today and next friday *crossing fingers*. Once those are done I’m hoping to compile them into a collection to have up in Sept. If they’re large enough I’ll see about putting together print versions. It may take some doing though, for the ISPNs. I’m considering a kickstarter or something like that to fund getting the ISPN numbers from Bowker. Or just tossing a donate button at the bottom of the page. We shall see.

If anyone has been paying attention to the bars on the **checks other tab** right side of the page, I’ve been puttering away at the first Zander book. I’m about 1/4 of the way through it and I think it’s coming along fairly well. I was thinking over the series itself and it struck me that there are going to be 4, possibly 5, in the whole series. The first three are the Northern Empire books and the last one(two) would be the grande finale/wrap up of that situation. So. 5 in the Zander series. **twitches**

I do need to come up with new titles for them…

I AM still working on getting E1 edited so I can serialize it. Which I’m still planning on doing. What the heck, right? It may be September (ahhh that month again) before I start serializing it. Or maye OCt. Not sure if I can swing it in Aug though. I may do a teaser chapter to see what people think.

Ok, in other pubbing news, Smashwords is holding a coupon special for the month of July. I’ve signed up all my titles for it. Linked below; The coupon code is SSW50

The Shiny – With coupon is free
Redshirts - With coupon is free
Muse Interrupted - With coupon is free
The Magic Maker – With coupon is 50% off; $1.50
Playing For The Dead - With coupon is free
Help Never Came - With coupon is 50% off; $1.75
River Of Souls - With coupon is free

In Aug I’m going to be compiling them into collections for a September release, and possibly pulling down the single titles. I’m undecided on this atm. We’ll see. I’m also working on some new covers (in my *haha* spare time)  and plan on going through the current titles for a typo hunt. Just a typo hunt/grammar fix, no story changes.

Anyways, time to wrap this up and finish the flash fiction stuff. Have a great weekend folks!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter

Profile

Zander
necia_phoenix
necia_phoenix

Latest Month

April 2014
S M T W T F S
  12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930   

Syndicate

RSS Atom
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow