tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67303261874803601482024-03-19T02:17:48.738-07:00Jenna Elizabeth JohnsonFantasy and Paranormal Romance Author.
Never outgrow your imagination, let your imagination outgrow you.Jenna Elizabeth Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13942531517163021489noreply@blogger.comBlogger218125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-15564229906807957192020-05-04T12:41:00.000-07:002020-05-04T12:41:51.236-07:00ONCE UPON A KISS IS ON SALE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">ESCAPE INTO SEVENTEEN WORLDS OF MAGIC, ADVENTURE, AND ROMANCE!</span></div>
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Hello Everyone! Just wanted to give you all a quick heads up about <i>ONCE UPON A KISS</i> (the second anthology in the Once Upon series). If you have not yet picked up this collection, now's the time to do so! It will be on sale for $0.99 for this week (May 4th - May 10th). <i>ONCE UPON A KISS</i> was also named Best Anthology for the 2017 Utopia Book Awards, so you know you're getting a great deal at this price. Be sure to spread the word to your book friends and I hope you are all staying safe and healthy out there. Happy reading!</div>
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- Jenna</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blurb for <i>SOOT AND STONE</i> ...</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Aisling is a talented artist.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Her glamour can carve exquisite sculptures, a useful ability her uncle
exploits for his own purposes.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Kiernan
is the son of Cernunnos, the god of the Wild, and an accomplished artist
himself.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">When his father tasks him with
the job of ruling the northeastern arm of the Weald, he accepts with the aim to
also establish an art academy in the local village of Arbeine.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">A chance encounter throws Kiernan and Aisling together, and before she
knows it, the young Faelorehn artist finds herself falling for the son of one
of the famed Tuatha De Danann.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The only
problem is, Aisling is unaware of Kiernan’s true identity, and her selfish
uncle will do anything to keep her from realizing her own dreams.</span></div>
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AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-53651776306958528872019-02-11T10:26:00.000-08:002019-02-11T10:26:13.929-08:00Once Upon A Star: Launching Into Orbit 2.18.2019Hello Readers! It's been a while since I've posted anything new here, but I've been busy working on lots of little projects and one big project in the Otherworld series. Although some of these books in progress won't be ready in the near future, I can announce the arrival of <i>ONCE UPON A STAR</i>, the latest installment of the Once Upon Anthology series.<br />
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<i>ONCE UPON A STAR</i> will launch on Monday, February 18th, and will feature fourteen all new faerie tale retellings with a science fiction twist! My contribution is titled <i>BY THE LIGHT OF A DISTANT STAR</i> and is a retelling of <i>The Goose Girl</i>. I had so much fun writing in this genre, one I've never attempted before, and I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading!<br />
- Jenna<br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Princess Estrelle’s marriage
to Prince Damryn of Kaul is not just a means to establish a lucrative trade
agreement between two galaxies, but a chance for her to begin a new life. But Estrelle’s fairytale future is put on
hold when the woman transporting her to her new home steals her identity and
leaves her for dead. With the help of
her newfound friends, Estrelle discovers the courage to face her enemy and to
fight for the one she has grown to love.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">AND NOW FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF <i>BY THE LIGHT OF A DISTANT STAR</i>!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Estrelle
swiped her fingers across the screen of her Glasslight, then tapped the symbol
for her inbox. A list of messages
scrolled by, her eyes flicking through them as she hunted for one in
particular. When the familiar subject
header caught her eye, she stopped it with a finger, the letter unfurling to
fill the screen. Estrelle grinned and
rose from the couch in her private quarters.
With digital tablet in hand, she stepped through the gauzy curtains onto
the shaded terrace just outside her room.
The stones beneath her bare feet were rough and warm, their rusty color
matching the barren landscape surrounding her family’s estate. Above, the broad leaves of the rossu vines
climbing the wall and spreading across the pergola provided ample shade beneath
Staerra, Parsa’s unforgiving sun.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A
wall fountain tucked away in the shadiest corner of her personal oasis offered
some comfort, and once Estrelle was seated upon the edge of the shallow pool,
she read her message for what must have been the hundredth time.</span></span></div>
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<i style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Dearest Estrelle,</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<i style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">In your last
correspondence, you inquired after my favorite color. A simple question, but one I delight in
answering. Blue, white, gray, and black
dominate the planet of Kaul, and only in the spring and summer months, a mere
third of the year, are we given the chance to admire a more varied color scheme
in the birds and blossoms that burst forth with life then. Beauty abounds during that time, and all the
people of the capital city pour onto the shores of the lake as it begins to
thaw. I cannot describe how much I enjoy
seeing the variety of hues during the warming season, but you were curious
about a single color: My favorite.
Despite all the lovely ones I have to choose from, I must admit red is
my preferred pigment, only because it happens to be the color of the brightest
star in our night sky. Not the brilliant
red of furzel bird feathers, or the deep scarlet of the wild poppies in bloom during
the mild season, but the warm crimson tone shining from a certain star that
keeps me company during my evening walks.
We call the star Hettar, the harbinger of summer, since it hovers on the
horizon for most of the year only to climb higher when the thaw begins. It also happens to be the star your home
planet orbits. I smile as I write this,
wondering if the cosmic fates had some part in our arrangement. For who else would know to bring me a
companion from the source of my hope and inspiration?</span></i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Yours affectionately,</span></i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">– Damryn</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Estrelle
smiled and hugged the thin plane of glass to her chest.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">She couldn’t say why she kept coming back to
this particular correspondence, but it always made her heart light when she
read it.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Received only a few weeks ago,
it had been the first time the prince of Kaul had used a more intimate term of
endearment to close his letter.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">And the
first time he had signed off with only his name, no titles attached.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Estrelle initially had no interest in
courting Prince Damryn, but as the days wore on, he proved to be everything she
could have hoped for in a mate: Charming, kind, and possessing a warm sense of
humor that shone light into her soul.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Through
their correspondence, Estrelle learned they had much in common, despite being
from two different worlds.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Damryn had
described the natural wonder of his planet, Kaul, the largest body circling his
star, and one that spent the majority of its year wrapped in crystalline ice
and snow.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">She, in turn, had described
Parsa to him, in all its arid, crimson glory.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">
</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">They had bonded over their love of the natural worlds around them,
seasoned with honesty and encouraged by the easy, patient nature they both
possessed.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Who would have ever guessed
something which had begun with resistance and trepidation would blossom into
eagerness and joy?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Estrelle
now reflected on that fact, smirking at the memory of the hour she’d learned
her destiny would be so depressingly typical of a woman of her status.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">A little over a year ago, her great uncle and
her mother had come to her with a proposal: Their solar system and the one on
the other side of the recently discovered wormhole cluster wished to make a
treaty.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Both planets sat on the edges of
their perspective galaxies, and both their rulers were interested in opening a
trade agreement between their solar systems – an opportunity for both planets
to act as the crossroads of an intergalactic port of commerce.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">The discovery of the wormhole cluster a
decade before had made travel between the two edges of the galaxies much
swifter than the usual mode of transportation.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">
</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Instead of spending a month cramped on a cargo ship with advanced hyper
speed capabilities, the wormholes allowed even the most basic starship to leap
from the edge of Parsa’s solar system to Kaul’s in less than a week.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Estrelle’s
great uncle and Prince Damryn’s father, both emperors in their own right,
jumped at the opportunity to strike a treaty between their two kingdoms.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">And an arranged marriage was the easiest, and
most secure way, to ensure a successful contract.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Since the Kaulian race produced multiple
offspring at one time, the current emperor had plenty of sons and daughters to
choose from, and Damryn was his youngest.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">
</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Estrelle was the fourth daughter of the Parsan emperor’s sixth sister,
also the youngest.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Technically a
princess, Estrelle was so far from the throne, she might as well have been a
commoner.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">And since she had three older
sisters who outranked her, she was chosen for the role of bride.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Estrelle
rejected the idea at first.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Arranged
marriage was something her distant ancestors, human beings, had practiced on
the now dead planet Earth.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Eventually,
her mother and great uncle persuaded her to start a long-range correspondence
with the prince, though she hadn’t placed much faith in the success of that
venture.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Oh,
how wrong she’d been.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">With a wistful
sigh, Estrelle closed the message she had practically memorized and leaned
against the cool wall of her patio garden.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">
</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">She gazed out over the edge of the veranda and off into the far eastern
hills.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Staerra had slipped below the
horizon, leaving the world hanging in a crimson twilight.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">Estrelle tilted her head back even farther,
seeking out Yssa, the star that lit Damryn’s planet and the one closest to her
own.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">There, in a gap between the rossu
leaves, a window of darkening sky framed a burst of brilliant, pale blue
fire.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">It would shine brightly over her
world tonight, casting its cool light across the desert.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">And beneath its unyielding watch, she would dream
of her new life and a future full of hope and opportunity.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.3in;">And gods willing, love.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">Continue reading Estrelle and Damryn's story on 02.18.2019!</span></i></div>
<br />AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-28508452493727447572018-11-17T20:42:00.000-08:002018-11-17T20:42:21.971-08:00Great News for the Legend of Oescienne Series!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hello readers!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In July, I entered my entire Legend of Oescienne series into the 2018 Literary Classics Book Awards. Earlier this month I learned it was one of the finalists, and just a few days ago I got the news that the Oescienne series had won Best Young Adult Series! I'm thrilled to bring this news to you and am pleased to announce I'll be taking part in the 2019 Great American Book Festival and the Literary Classics Awards ceremony this coming May. I'll be sure to share more information as that date gets closer. Until then, I want to thank everyone who has supported me and this series over the years :).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">- Jenna</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.clcawards.org/2018_Award_Winning_Books.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1311" data-original-width="1600" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbyAszsacHN0VZA6zrOwyU3UGbeHdErELS5LszuyZweRfnYwFwPk8p38xE7PTZGQNhX7DpNcZued3DzA-ejbaD49xtVb5YJGAySmyY0muQzh_hn9f-ygTfb9OZDN6Y6Bmk_WCb5O7eSI/s400/2018LitClassicsOescienneInstagramFINAL.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>THE RECKONING</i> HAS MADE THE TOP 100 SHORT LIST FOR THE READ FREELY BEST INDIE BOOKS OF 2018!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I just want to thank all my readers who voted to help <i>The Reckoning</i> make it to the finals! Read Freely is now asking readers to pick the best 50 books from these wonderful titles, and I'm hoping you'll take a moment, once again, to give <i>The Reckoning</i> some love. I'm including the link below for your convenience. Thank you again and happy reading!!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Click here to cast your Vote!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.readfree.ly/vote-50-best-indie-books-2018-fantasy/">http://www.readfree.ly/vote-50-best-indie-books-2018-fantasy/</a></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-19562619431120218152018-06-24T19:49:00.000-07:002018-06-24T19:49:05.467-07:00The Epic Conclusion is Finally Here!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">THE RECKONING</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now available where ebooks are sold!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1F6mXFKM7qmt8ODun5gblNxTyQce_ImfRrL8PWG7G6jTsbdBtAiDQ3Rclz4jYIF80erjTxZwea_L9bAbdFXIdZBQOxEWDIOpBOh0dIohCLj9lloXstwOM4uUsNZQ-6GqacCdAFj2hGs8/s1600/TheReckoningWebLarge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="417" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1F6mXFKM7qmt8ODun5gblNxTyQce_ImfRrL8PWG7G6jTsbdBtAiDQ3Rclz4jYIF80erjTxZwea_L9bAbdFXIdZBQOxEWDIOpBOh0dIohCLj9lloXstwOM4uUsNZQ-6GqacCdAFj2hGs8/s640/TheReckoningWebLarge.jpg" width="416" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Get your ecopy today!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Reckoning-Legend-Oescienne-Book-Five-ebook/dp/B07D6688HV" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-legend-of-oescienne-the-reckoning-jenna-elizabeth-johnson/1128753409?ean=2940155262237" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-legend-of-oescienne-the-reckoning-book-five/id1387622076?mt=11" target="_blank">iTunes</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-legend-of-oescienne-the-reckoning-book-five" target="_blank">Kobo</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/830196" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Jenna_Elizabeth_Johnsono_The_Legend_of_Oescienne?id=-lNgDwAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Play</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Paperback copies available from:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Legend-Oescienne-Reckoning-5/dp/1717557562" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-legend-of-oescienne-the-reckoning-jenna-elizabeth-johnson/1128753409?ean=9781717557568" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://squareup.com/store/authorjejohnson" target="_blank">Directly from the Author</a></span></div>
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AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-67535536100291775552018-05-31T09:46:00.000-07:002018-05-31T09:46:28.742-07:00Pre-Order THE RECKONING Today!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Hello All!</div>
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I finally have the links for you to pre-order <i>The Reckoning</i>! We are now only two weeks away from the grand finale in The Legend of Oescienne series and I can't wait for you all to read it :D. Below, you will find the links that are available (I'll be uploading the final draft on Google Play closer to the release date, so that link isn't available yet). Also, we're having a launch party for those of you local to the Central Coast. Details are all below!</div>
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- Jenna</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Reckoning-Legend-Oescienne-Book-Five-ebook/dp/B07D6688HV" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-legend-of-oescienne-the-reckoning-jenna-elizabeth-johnson/1128753409?ean=2940155262237" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-legend-of-oescienne-the-reckoning-book-five/id1387622076?mt=11" target="_blank">iTunes</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-legend-of-oescienne-the-reckoning-book-five" target="_blank">Kobo</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/830196" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>YOU ARE INVITED TO THE RECKONING LAUNCH PARTY!</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Join author Jenna Elizabeth Johnson as she celebrates the release of the epic conclusion to her Legend of Oescienne series. There will be an author reading, Q and A, games, prizes, snacks, and free posters!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>WHERE:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">CovenTree Olde World Market</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">722 E. Main St. Ste. 112</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Santa Maria, CA</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>WHEN:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Friday, June 15th 2018</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">7:00 pm - 10:00 pm</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">*Books go on sale at 10 pm </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Let us know if you'll be able to make it on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1829722340420201/" target="_blank">Facebook Events</a> page!</b></i></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-80494330806807493752018-05-18T08:00:00.000-07:002018-05-18T08:00:03.287-07:00THE RECKONING Cover Reveal and Prologue!<br />
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<span style="line-height: 125%;">Hello everyone! Earlier this week, I sent out my May newsletter which included the cover reveal and prologue for <i>The Legend of Oescienne - The Reckoning</i>! In case you missed it, here they are! The projected release date is June 16th, so mark your calendars and here's to hoping this final project stays on schedule! And now, I present to you, the prologue for the final chapter in the Legend of Oescienne series. Happy reading!</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 125%;">THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 125%;">THE RECKONING</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 125%;">-Prologue-<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="CHAPTERS2" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 22.0pt;">The
Birth of a Leader<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 125%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> Copyright (c) 2018 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson</o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 41.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-text-raise: .5pt;">A<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>cold breeze whispered across the vast tundra,
ruffling the short, tough grass that grew there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the frigid sea and even colder mountains
to the north and west, the gusts that danced across the Great Red Tundra of
Ghorium made even the summer months almost unbearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it was that relentless wind that now battered
at the minds and nerves of the company of warriors who tried so desperately to
capture what few precious moments of rest they could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some point in the night, however, exhaustion
had finally won out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only a few hours
stretched before dawn, and the war encampment was silent, not a single living
thing stirring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All, that is, except for
the young soldier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He lay there, listening to the low wailing of the wind as the
stench of burning bodies and the freshly spilled blood of the battlefield stung
his nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not even the persistent cold
had dampened the horrible smell, and it clung to him as assuredly as the red
lichens clung to the broken rocks scattered across the plain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something else, however, had woken him from
his fitful sleep, but he could not tell what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A stray gust howling down the shallow river bed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sudden snort from one of his comrades
fighting against dark dreams?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe a
tundra predator, slinking through the night searching for an easy meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That last thought had him shivering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The animals that dwelled in this part of the
world were dangerous, no matter their size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, with plenty of fallen allies and enemies nearby, it made no sense
for a predator to be hunting for live food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The young man shifted, knowing these weren’t the reasons for
his restlessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had realized early
on that his motive for traveling to Ghorium to fight the evil brewing there
went beyond the typical duty any normal soldier was called to perform.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True enough, he had ventured east with his
friends and allies to do his part in wiping the Tyrant and his accursed
soldiers from the face of Ethöes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
now that he had endured the horror of the battlefield, watched those same
friends die beneath the enemy’s power and wrath, there was only one thing left
he could do, if he wanted a chance for even the slightest glimmer of hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">His was an important mission, one he had made in his heart
mere hours ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One he could share with
only a scant few he had sworn to secrecy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A call to duty that required him to rise early and sneak away before his
remaining friends realized he was gone. With swift efficiency, the warrior climbed
to his feet and made ready for his task.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sun was still hours from rising, but he used his instincts to guide
the way as he tread quietly over the soggy, semi-frozen landscape of the
northern wastes of Ghorium, trying desperately to block out the soft moans of the
dying men, dragons, and beasts scattered for miles around him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The haunting images lingering from the
previous days rose up to torment him as he made his way ever northward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a shudder that rattled his teeth, he
shook off the worst of them, playing his plan over and over again in his
mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had to succeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If not, then all would most definitely be lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, his plan wasn’t a complex
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just needed to buy them
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a little more time …<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Somewhere across the distance, a man screamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A final lament to Ethöes to spare him the
pain of his passing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A plea to give him
a little more courage, a little more strength, so that perhaps he might rise at
dawn to fight again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or perhaps just another
tired soldier haunted by his own demons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Whatever it had been, the spine-tingling screech stopped the young man
short, his heart thundering in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his
blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After several seconds, his feet
fell into a quick pace once more, his body crouched low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The dim light of several small fires, some kindled by the
soldiers to keep warm, others the evidence of the Morli attack from the evening
before, acted as beacons leading the way to the outer wall of Vruuthŭn, the
black city where the enemy waited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vengeance
and the driving need to help the people of Ethöes pushed him, where fear and
fatigue would have caused another to give in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With a single-minded focus, he climbed over one berm after another.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Finally, he reached his first destination: a larger pocket in
the otherwise monotonous landscape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here,
several of the men, fellow allies fighting for his cause, slept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all wore stained and tattered uniforms,
some of them too old and gray to wage war, others younger than himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they were here, along with countless
others like them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fighting to defend
their freedom, the freedom of Ethöes, even if they ought to be home in their
cabins smoking a pipe by the fire with their grandchildren, or out pulling
harmless, midnight pranks on their neighbors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These men rested fitfully, their bodies tired but their minds always
waiting for the next attack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">As he studied them, the soldier’s eyes fell upon a young man
about his own age and height.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it
was the fact he lay curled up near the center of the group that caught his
attention, or maybe it was that even in the dim light of predawn, he could see
that this young man resembled him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
several seconds, he studied the sleeping warrior, noting his dark blond hair
and strong features.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was perhaps a
few inches taller than himself and a bit broader in the shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they were both awake, standing side by side,
people believed them to be brothers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
smile curled at the corner of the soldier’s mouth as memories of their youth
played through his mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two of them
had grown up in the same province, though they had come from very different
families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That fact hadn’t kept them
from getting into mischief together, however.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Sighing against the remorse that threatened to push aside his
determination, the soldier pressed his hand to his own chest, splaying his
fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young man asleep on the
cold ground below him was dressed in the simple rags of a stable hand, while he
wore the fine clothing of a prince.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">But war has made us equals</span></i><span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">, he thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Though
I have always believed it, and so have you, war has so bitterly made it
fact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For no man, prince or peasant, can
escape death, my friend.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A soft exhalation of breath snapped the restless soldier’s
attention back to the present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of his
comrades had awoken, his dark eyes trained on the young man standing over
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He nodded once to the warrior, and the
man silently roused five others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest
of them, including the sleeping figure in the middle of the group, were left
undisturbed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seven fighters ghosted away
from their makeshift camp and headed toward the base of the city a few miles
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they marched, the men gathered
more willing fighters, those who woke to find the small party pressing forward
with purpose, their own spirits inspired by the sight of the young warrior clad
in armor emblazoned with the royal crest of Oescienne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could not turn them away, not when he
sensed in them the same driving need to destroy the demon king who wished to
enslave them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was it, he knew in
his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was their final stand,
and they would take it alone if they had to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If they were lucky, if Ethöes smiled down upon them, their attack would
come as a surprise, and they would gain the advantage while the rest of the
army slept.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The sun peeked above the horizon in the east, a brilliant eye
of red, its light a burning condemnation; an omen for what they were about to
face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some point along their short
journey, someone offered horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
young soldier took the reins and mounted blindly, his mind focused on one thing
and one thing only.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must destroy
Cierryon, the monster who had killed his king.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The frozen fortress loomed in the distance, an impenetrable
castle set high atop a mountain and guarded by a city full of enemy soldiers
and Morli dragons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew the odds were
against them, but he was so very tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tired
of the pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tired of the ache in his chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tired of being surrounded by death and
hopelessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could endure it no
longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, he had decided to face this
enemy on his own, with only those he trusted most by his side and those ready
to scream their final battle cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the
rest of his army slept on, their dreams as black as his own, he guided his
horse swiftly and silently across the barren landscape, the frozen mountains rising
like the demonic visage of the god Ciarrohn in the distance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Without warning, the scene shifted, and the young soldier was
falling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He braced for impact, wondering
how he had been unseated from his horse, but the ground never came up to meet
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, he plummeted through a
black void, and in a fierce moment of fear, he wondered if he’d been struck by
an arrow shot from one of the Tyrant’s men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Was this death, then?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had so
desperately hoped death meant the end of agony and fear, but the terror was
just as strong now as it had been earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Flashes of memory bombarded him as he fell, memories of the
several bloody battles he’d fought so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Visions of his friends dying beside him, struck down by sword, spear, and
axe, or incinerated by a blast of fire from one of the hideous Morli dragons
overhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Korli dragons on his side
fought fiercely, but they were no match for the numerous Morli.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He screamed against the horror of it all,
wondering what he had done in his mortal life to deserve such a tormented
afterlife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">His body twisted in the void, and new memories flickered
before him, only, these recollections hadn’t happened to him yet, had
they?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Familiar, so very familiar, but so
distant they seemed to be the afterthoughts of dreams from long ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His head filled with the sounds of metal
clashing upon metal, the screams of men and horses and dragons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He spun around and around and around, lost in
this place that did not exist, until finally he caught a petrifying glance of
the wicked, shadowy face of his enemy just as a searing pain sliced down the
side of his face and neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "freetiles"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: 4.0pt; line-height: 135%;">[[[</span><span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "freetiles"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: 4.0pt; line-height: 135%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Far away in Lidien, in a manor house nestled in the hills
above the city, the Tanaan dragon Kehllor woke gasping for breath, only to
curse when his head came into contact with a stone wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Growling, he lashed his tail in frustration,
then gave a great sigh of relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite the slight headache
his thrashing had caused, it had only been another dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no great battlefield littered with
corpses, no relentless, ice-laced wind barraging his senses, no terrifying
monsters manifesting around him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While
he waited for his blood to cool and his pulse to slow, Kehllor puzzled over the
nightmare that had torn him so rudely from his rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had no idea where the dream had come from,
but it wasn’t a new one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, that
wasn’t entirely correct.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scenes in
this one differed from the others, but the theme had been a recurring one over
the past several nights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But why he
would walk in that world as something other than a dragon was beyond him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pushing a blast of hot air through his
nostrils, he tilted his head as he considered it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The others in the dream, the ones that looked
a lot like elves, seemed familiar somehow, but like the memories that haunted
his sleep, he could not place them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A new sound, this one real and not imagined, disrupted his
thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a soft rapping of
knuckles against a wooden door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Master Kehllor?” a timid female voice inquired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are you well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Ah, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dragon
blinked rapidly, the sharp edges of the nightmare growing dull as his
surroundings took shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A spacious,
sparsely decorated study rose up around him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was a desk, large enough to accommodate a dragon, a small
fireplace in one corner and bookshelves lining the walls on one side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The space was comfortable and welcoming,
despite the fact it did not belong to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was the home of the dragon Raejaaxorix, and he had recently become
its new tenant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And clearly, he had
fallen asleep in the study late the night before instead of making his way to
the much more appropriate sleeping chamber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That explained why he’d smacked his head against the wall in his haste
to escape the dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Master Kehllor?” the woman asked once again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m f-fine,” he managed, his voice a bit raspy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I heard sounds of distress,” the housemaid announced, her
muffled words growing louder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Kehllor gritted his teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How embarrassing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully, the
woman hadn’t been too disturbed by his night terrors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had lived in this house with Jaax before
him, after all, so surely she was used to dragonish ways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Clearing his throat, Kehllor responded, “I’m well,
Neira.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have bad dreams from time to
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing to concern yourself with.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">There was a long silence, then what sounded like a huff of
breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you insist.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shuffle of the Nesnan woman’s footsteps
heading back down the hall brought Kehllor some relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t much one for holding long, or even
short, conversations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the last thing
he wanted after waking up from such a disturbing dream was to take part in a heart-to-heart
with the overly-concerned housekeeper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Kehllor struggled to shake the last vestiges of the dream
from his mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The memory of it had
faded, but the sense of unease clinging to his scales lingered. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only time would take care of that, Kehllor thought,
so he sat up and stretched his muscles, sore from spending the previous day
checking the borders of Lidien with a few other dragons active in the
Coalition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was now his duty to ensure
the Crimson King’s soldiers stayed beyond the city’s magical boundaries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had moved in close, frighteningly so,
but as far as Kehllor could tell, the ancient magic keeping their enemies at
bay held, and no one had breached the walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He only hoped those boundaries remained strong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet as much as he wished for the Tyrant’s
loyal servants to disperse and be on their way, he secretly thanked Ethöes
every day they continued to prod at the enchantment surrounding the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The longer they stayed distracted by Lidien’s
power, the more time Jaax, Jahrra, and Ellyesce had to get as far away as they
could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Kehllor furrowed his brow as he counted back the days since
his friends had fled the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One,
maybe closer to two, months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely
they were in Nimbronia by now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had the
trip been an easy one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or had some of
the Tyrant’s soldiers slipped away to pursue them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kehllor could not know for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they could just reach the city of the
Creecemind dragons before the Crimson King’s army caught up with them, then
they would be safe once again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least
for the time being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The sweet melody of a songbird drew the golden dragon’s
attention away from his reverie, and he glanced toward one of the study’s
windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The diamond-paned panel was
cracked open and through it he spotted the small creature, a heartsong sparrow,
singing its hymn to the waking world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Despite his troubled thoughts, Kehllor couldn’t help a reptilian
smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hoped the bird’s presence was
a good omen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The feathered creature finished one more chorus, then with a
chirp, it leapt from the redwood branch it had been resting on and flitted off
into the forest surrounding the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kehllor
peered beyond the treetops and caught a glimpse of the great bay, the distant
peninsula growing less gray as the morning’s sunlight flooded the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Taking a deep breath and letting it out through his nose, Kehllor
stood and exited the study as quietly as he could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he remembered correctly, the Coalition
would be meeting later in the morning, and his presence would be expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Coalition of Ethöes had been convening
more often of late, and although he loathed being around so many arguing and
angry people, he understood the necessity for their frequent gatherings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jaax, their previous leader, had given up his
position in order to flee the City of Light with Jahrra, the human girl
foretold by the Oracles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they had
not gone without a nice dose of controversy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Before leaving Lidien, a rumor claiming Jaax to be a liar and his ward
to be a fraud had spread like wildfire through the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Shiroxx, the very dragon who had fostered
Kehllor for so long, had played the lead role in stirring the pot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Kehllor’s upper lip curled in disgust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew the red Tanaan dragon was somehow
responsible for spreading the lies, but he couldn’t prove it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, before leaving for Nimbronia, Jaax
had dismissed her from the Coalition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unfortunately, he hadn’t dismissed her co-conspirator, Rohdann.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although not as ruthless as Shiroxx, the
black Tanaan dragon was her puppet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
would do anything she asked, and he had a knack for turning suspicion away from
himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The savory scent of cinnamon and butter distracted Kehllor
enough to forget about Shiroxx and Rohdann and all his other worries for the
time being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stepped out into the
hallway and headed for the common room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A fire burned brightly in the great hearth, and soft morning sunlight
spilled in through the south-facing windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The common room was quite large, providing plenty of space for a dragon
and his company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long tapestries, thick
carpets, and stuffed furniture for the non-dragon guests decorated the space
tastefully, complimenting the green-flecked flagstone floor and granite
walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kehllor took a moment to
appreciate his current position in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For so many years, he had been under the thumb of Shiroxx, owing
everything to her simply because he had not known any better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He couldn’t remember much of his past before
the red dragon found him wandering the desert region of the south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some traumatic experience had erased it from
his mind, and if not for Shiroxx’s kindness, he’d have no life at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">No</span></i><span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">, he corrected himself
bitterly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it wasn’t out of kindness that
Shiroxx found me and took me under her wing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve been nothing but an instrument to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tool to be used to get what she wants.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It had taken Jahrra’s patient persistence to teach him that
not everyone was his enemy and that there were such things as real friends to
be had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite all he had gained and
learned in the past year, however, he couldn’t help but wonder where he had
come from and what his life had been like before forgetting it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dream, still lingering in the recesses of
his mind, pushed its way forward once more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He wanted to forget it, for it only made him anxious, yet he was also determined
to puzzle it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where had he been in
that strange nightmare?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And why had he witnessed
events from another’s eyes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what had
been that terrifying presence he and his companions had been so determined to
defeat?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it was a vision of the
past, or more likely, the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could
he be some sort of seer and not even know it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And if that was the vision of the future, whose eyes had he been seeing
this future through?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A cold dread filled his stomach as a new revelation occurred
to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The demon in the dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could it be the enemy that the Coalition,
that Jaax and Jahrra, wished to defeat?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
terrifying visage of the Crimson King, perhaps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or more precisely, the demon-god who possessed the Tyrant’s body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why on Ethöes would Kehllor be dreaming about
a battle with Ciarrohn?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">With a shudder, the golden dragon cast the disturbing thought
aside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would eat whatever wonderful
breakfast Neira was preparing, then he’d venture into the city to listen to
another long session of Nesnan and Resai diplomats bickering with one
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The very thought made his back
teeth ache.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grew weary of staying put
and doing nothing, but Jaax was counting on him to lead the Coalition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“But we are getting nowhere,” he whispered aloud to no one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Kehllor went over the past several Coalition meetings in his
head, sifting through the information pouring from a variety of sources outside
of Felldreim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Checking the borders for
weaknesses took off some of the edge, but as the dreams grew more vivid and
more frequent, and as more evidence of the Tyrant’s growing power leaked in, Kehllor
was beginning to feel trapped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
aware of the armies being forged throughout Ethöes, troops of soldiers and
farmers and merchants alike, willing to fight against the evil growing in the
east when the time came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyone and
everyone ready to defend the last threads of freedom the world possessed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also had an idea of their numbers, and
those weren’t too impressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there
was no guarantee Jaax and Jahrra would convince the Creecemind to join their
cause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without the ice dragons of the
north, the Coalition and her allies stood no chance against the Crimson King’s
army and his Morli dragons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Kehllor ruminated over breakfast, then all the way to Essyel
Hall in the heart of the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the
time he reached his place at the head of the massive meeting room, an idea had
begun prickling at the back of his mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was almost ludicrous, but the longer the Coalition’s new leader
considered it, the more appealing it seemed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had spent much of his life in the southern part of the continent and
had come to know the people who lived there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>People the rest of the world ignored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But maybe, just maybe, these people understood the threat Cierryon posed
as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And just like that, a plan
blossomed to life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 135%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
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<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“This could be the answer to our troubles,” he whispered
under his breath as the great hall filled with boisterous Coalition members, “especially
if it works.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 135%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="line-height: 135%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;">~ The epic conclusion arrives this June! ~</span></o:p></span></div>
<br />AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-81161522462194928342018-05-01T20:59:00.001-07:002018-05-01T21:19:31.038-07:00Get to Know the Authors of Phoenix Comic Fest Booth #696<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hey everyone! This Memorial Day weekend I'll be hanging out with some of my favorite people at Phoenix Comic Fest - fellow authors Jacob Devlin and Katie Salidas! Before the event, I thought you might like to learn a little bit about these amazing authors, so I asked them five questions to help us all get to know them a little better ;) ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">DON'T FORGET TO VISIT US AT BOOTH #696 AT <a href="https://phoenixcomicfest.com/" target="_blank">PHOENIX COMIC FEST</a>!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b>MEET JACOB DEVLIN</b></h2>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLxjrR0TehvpmLw9KFaZR05qTeQq_ZKxLlMyfc0Gixu0TCS0Iyc6zzpN3UhsAoIb72Xa6R6lAyRqECgz_E50Uq5OSCfVyj8JePJmoC10jpeJKf4MVaYY2LaU1YJRw4TaKR7XmW18OS6o/s1600/headshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="912" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLxjrR0TehvpmLw9KFaZR05qTeQq_ZKxLlMyfc0Gixu0TCS0Iyc6zzpN3UhsAoIb72Xa6R6lAyRqECgz_E50Uq5OSCfVyj8JePJmoC10jpeJKf4MVaYY2LaU1YJRw4TaKR7XmW18OS6o/s200/headshot.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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When Jacob Devlin was four years old, he would lounge around in Batman pajamas and make semi-autobiographical picture books about an adventurous python named Jake the Snake. He is the author of THE CARVER and its two sequels, THE UNSEEN and THE HUMMINGBIRD. When not reading or writing, Jacob loves geeking out at comic book conventions, spoiling his niece, and blasting Italian rock music in his car. He does most of these things in southern Arizona.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>1) Where are you from?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've lived in Southern Arizona most of my life, but spent a few wonderful years in Virginia and consider it like a second home as well.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2) What do you write?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Most of my work (and everything I've published thus far) is MG/YA adventure fantasy. Usually my writing bends a fairy tale or legend somehow, and there's always a strong emphasis on familial love.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>3) What are you working on right now?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm revising a middle grade adventure fantasy about two siblings who have to hunt down a dragon to rescue their uncle, a famous survivalist who knows everything about bears and nothing about leathery winged beasts.</div>
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<b>4) Why do you write?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My mom used to read to me when I was in the hospital with Lymphoma as a</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnG5fXAcYRZzsJO2L_b89pQQuggR52SHhysnUDjQ_jQjpPuIVhyphenhyphentdhgeGkeuxcSJIE24iJtquqNL5SpRAqVDqVHQqKirfdGdkIBpuDvQglk65Es12muM_g03sa_xdEe9Aif4q5hRgAeCg/s1600/The+Unseen+EBook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnG5fXAcYRZzsJO2L_b89pQQuggR52SHhysnUDjQ_jQjpPuIVhyphenhyphentdhgeGkeuxcSJIE24iJtquqNL5SpRAqVDqVHQqKirfdGdkIBpuDvQglk65Es12muM_g03sa_xdEe9Aif4q5hRgAeCg/s200/The+Unseen+EBook.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
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6-year-old, and every book was an escape. It still is for me. Reading, writing, creating opens up spaces for people of any age and any background to grow, heal, or dream.</div>
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<b>5) Tell us some of your favorite things ...</b></div>
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Food. Especially brinner. I swear I eat breakfast for dinner more than I eat breakfast for breakfast.</div>
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Going to the movies! Especially if it's a new MCU movie.</div>
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Traveling and seeing new things.</div>
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Music.</div>
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<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<b>FOLLOW JACOB ONLINE</b></h4>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Instagram:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/jacob_devlin/" target="_blank">https://www.instagram.com/jacob_devlin/</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Twitter:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://twitter.com/jacob_devlin" target="_blank">https://twitter.com/jacob_devlin</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Facebook:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/authorjakedevlin/?ref=bookmarks" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/authorjakedevlin/?ref=bookmarks</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Website:</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://authorjakedevlin.com/" target="_blank">https://authorjakedevlin.com/</a></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #ead1dc; font-family: inherit;">MEET KATIE SALIDAS</span></b></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Katie Salidas is a
best-selling author known for her unique genre-blending style that led the
award-winning Paranormal Dystopian Thriller: <b>Dissension</b>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Host of the Indie YouTube
Talk show, Spilling Ink, nerd, Doctor Who fangirl, Las Vegas Native, and
SuperMom to three awesome kids, Katie gives new meaning to the term
sleep-deprived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Since 2010 she’s penned
four bestselling book series: the <b>Immortalis</b>,
<b>Olde Town Pack</b>, <b>Little Werewolf,</b> and the <b>RONE</b>
award-winning <b>Chronicles of the Uprising</b>.
And as her not-so-secret alter ego, Rozlyn Sparks, she is a USA Today
bestselling author of romance with a naughty side.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>1.)
Where are you from?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Las
Vegas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>2.)
What do you write?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Paranormal
& Urban Fantasy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>3.)
What are you working on right now?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Super
Secret project that will be revealed at Phoenix Comic Fest….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>4.)
Why do you write?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because
I have to tell a story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>5.)
Tell us some of your favorite things ...</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Raindrops
on roses<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And
whiskers on kittens<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bright
copper kettles and warm woolen mittens<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brown
paper packages tied up with strings<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">These
are a few of my favorite things…..</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>FOLLOW KATIE ONLINE</b></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Website:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://www.katiesalidas.com/" target="_blank">http://www.katiesalidas.com</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Facebook:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Katie-Salidas-Author/214780936916" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">http://www.facebook.com/pages/Katie-Salidas-Author/214780936916</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Twitter:
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://twitter.com/QuixoticKatie" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">http://twitter.com/QuixoticKatie</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Amazon:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Katie-Salidas/e/B003APXXWO" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Katie-Salidas/e/B003APXXWO</a></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-36995132483806439512018-04-23T20:42:00.000-07:002018-04-23T20:42:31.174-07:00NEW Legend of Oescienne - The Reckoning Snippet!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Howdy eager readers! I know many of you have been waiting patiently for the release of the fifth and final book in the Legend of Oescienne series. I have a date in mind, but I'm still keeping hush-hush about it until I get all my files back from my fabulous Beta Readers and my marvelous editor. Once I get a chance to look at their suggestions, I might be able to lock in on that release date with more confidence. Until then, I have another snippet for you! Now, if you are signed up for my newsletter, then you should have received this sneak peek last week, but in case you missed it, here you go! This is a scene featuring dialogue between our two main characters, Jaax and Jahrra, and I feel it sets the tone for a good portion of the book. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment telling me what you think!</div>
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- J.E. Johnson</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Legend of Oescienne</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Reckoning</span></b></div>
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Copyright (c) 2018 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson</div>
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Snippet from:</div>
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<b>Chapter Five</b></div>
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<b>Rest, Revelry, and Rumination</b></div>
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As the evening stretched on, and as the elves began weaving their tales, Jahrra found their camaraderie did nothing to take the edge off her own restlessness. After only two stories were shared, she stood up and moved to stand casually near the edge of the great circle of light cast by the bonfire. When the third storyteller reached the exciting part of his tale, she slipped deeper into the darkness and headed toward the river’s edge. A large rock ledge stretched out from the tall bank of the Hrwyndess and hung over the rushing water some thirty feet below. She stepped out onto the slab of stone and turned her face upward. Closing her eyes, Jahrra breathed in the rich, cool air and let the light of the silvery moon bathe her face. What she wouldn’t give to take all her racing thoughts and shove them into a box where they couldn’t escape, if only for a few minutes.</div>
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A soft rustle broke into Jahrra’s moment of solitude, but she did not jump. Instinct, or maybe just years of experience, told her who approached.</div>
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“You are missing some very good stories,” Jaax drawled from behind her.</div>
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Jahrra turned and gave him a half smile, not putting much effort into it. So much for avoiding her friends for the rest of the night. The fire some fifty yards away had grown larger, she noticed, taller than the dragon cast in shadow standing so close by. Ale and more food was being passed around as well, and where she had left Dervit, some of the younger Hrunahn warriors had moved in. From what she could tell, it was the limbit who was weaving the tales at this point, not the elves. The upward curve to the corner of her mouth was more genuine this time, though her moment of joy did not last.</div>
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Jahrra turned back to face the rushing river below, not in the mood to take part in the merriment. “I’ve heard all of Dervit’s tall tales before,” she replied.</div>
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Jaax arched a brow, attention narrowing in on his ward. “Even the one about the piglet stuck in the fence?”</div>
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If the Tanaan dragon had hoped to cheer her up with his light tone, he was mistaken. Jahrra continued to stand there on the ledge of granite, arms crossed, the heel of one boot propped up against a small boulder. He knew when to leave her alone, and when she needed someone’s quiet presence. In this case, it was the latter, though Jaax wasn’t too keen on remaining silent and Jahrra would never admit she needed him.</div>
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“You seemed rather withdrawn during dinner. Care to talk about it?”</div>
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Jahrra shook her head, the river below mimicking her current mood. Now he wanted to talk? Despite her obvious desire to be left alone, Jaax wasn’t about to give up so easily.</div>
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“Jahrra,” he pressed, tone harder than before, “talk to me. In a matter of weeks we’ll be in Dhonoara, preparing for war. If anything is bothering you, now is the time to broach the subject.”</div>
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All he got in return was a derisive snort. As if she didn’t already know all of this. When he drew breath to speak again, Jahrra turned to look at him, the barest hint of desperation and fear dominating her expression. The dragon went utterly still, his eyes holding hers. He would not look away, not until she spoke her mind. She needed to say whatever it was that bothered her, but whatever it was needed to be removed the way a thorn must be drawn from the skin.</div>
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“I can’t celebrate with you and Ellyesce and Dervit. I can’t sit by that fire and laugh and joke and tell stories with the elves of Hrunah. I don’t know how any of you can.”</div>
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There, she’d said it. It hadn’t been about Ellyesce’s secrets earlier, and it hadn’t been about Jaax’s continued insistence on keeping her in the dark. Those had only been catalysts to her fear; excuses for her to purge her soul of the dark emotions lingering there. Only, her argument with Jaax and Ellyesce hadn’t assuaged her restlessness. Not at all.</div>
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Jaax lifted his head, all humor gone from his face. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low, but a gentle patience suffused his words. “You cannot celebrate because you are having a hard time envisioning a future that will bring happiness.”</div>
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Jahrra whipped her head back around, then bent to pick up a stone. She drew her arm back and launched it into the turbulent water below.</div>
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“We are walking directly into war, Jaax. Death is almost guaranteed, especially for us.” She indicated herself and her dragon guardian with a wave of her hand. “The Crimson King will know of me by now, and he’ll know you travel with me. I’m guessing he’ll know who Ellyesce is as well and Dervit ...” she trailed off, took a shuddering breath, then pressed on, “Dervit has been incredibly lucky so far. All of us have been. I don’t know how much longer our luck can hold out.”</div>
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Jaax hummed low in his throat, but said nothing.</div>
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“I don’t mean to sound cynical, and I hate that I’m fixated on what could go wrong, but the closer we get to whatever destiny Ethoes has planned for me, the more it grates at my nerves.”</div>
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“Jahrra, you have every right to feel that way. And even though your destiny seems to have been preordained, you still have a say in which choices you will make each day.”</div>
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Jahrra sighed, then fell into a crouch, arms wrapped around her knees. She wanted so badly to cry, to purge herself of the fear, pain, and anxiety, but she fought against that weakness. Her next words were so quiet, Jaax would have missed them over the rush of the river and the boisterous laughter of their elvin friends had he not possessed the sharper senses of a dragon.</div>
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“I don’t want to die,” she murmured.</div>
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Fear and fury and wrath wrapped their steely bands around Jaax’s heart at the tone in her voice.</div>
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“Don’t worry, Jahrra,” he vowed, moving closer to her. “I won’t let you die.”</div>
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When he was near enough for Jahrra to reach out and touch his shoulder, Jaax settled down upon the ground, his clawed fingers curling around the edge of the steep riverbank. The moonlight shone down through the gap in the trees, staining the world in shades of cool white and shadow.</div>
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“Can you make that same promise about yourself?” she finally asked. “About Dervit and Ellyesce, too?”</div>
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Jaax shook his head ruefully. “No, I cannot. But I will promise to do everything in my power to defend you and our friends. You have my word on that.”</div>
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She turned her head, blond hair slipping from her shoulder, the pale moonlight above turning her eyes to silver.</div>
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“And you have my word that I will do the same.”</div>
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As the revelry carried on behind them, Jaax and Jahrra sat in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as the peace of the night wrapped around them, sealing their words together like an ancient vow neither time nor distance could ever break.</div>
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AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-59735430390231669932018-03-19T09:58:00.000-07:002018-03-19T09:59:59.115-07:00THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE - THE RECKONING ... COMING SOON!<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hello Everyone!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I haven't posted here in a while, but I've been busy with writing and all my other authorly jobs of late, but I hope you'll be pleased to hear I plan on having the fifth and final book in the Legend of Oescienne series out by the end of this summer (hopefully much sooner!). I don't have an exact date yet, but I'm getting close to finishing up the first read-through draft, and after that, things should go a little more quickly (depending on my editor's and Beta readers' schedules, of course). BUT, my awesome cover artist, Randy Vargas, has already begun work on the final cover and I've seen the rough draft (I love it!), so things are starting to get real ;). It's been a very long journey, and writing this final book has had its ups and downs (and is still having them), but in the end, I hope to offer you all an epic, and satisfying, conclusion to the series. Only time will tell! For now, here is the quote and a snippet I shared in my newsletter last week. Happy reading and stay tuned!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- Jenna</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">SNIPPET FROM</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE - THE RECKONING</i></span></div>
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Copyright 2018 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">* * * * *</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Denaeh waited in the rocky outcropping above the campsite, her brilliant red cloak hidden behind a thicket of holly bushes as late afternoon light cut swaths through the lingering mist. Night was approaching, bringing with it the cold, and she had so badly wanted to kindle a fire to keep warm. But being so very close to Jahrra and her travel companions, she couldn’t risk being found out quite yet. Practically on their heels or not, she still did not know the identity of the third member of their party, the one with powerful magic who had been cloaking himself, or herself, since the Mystic first realized her quarry did not travel alone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You will know soon enough, she thought grimly. As much as she wished to uncover this stranger’s identity, part of her quailed at the knowledge. A mage that powerful could prove a true threat to her, and if this individual held the same opinion of Mystics that most did, then she had good reason to fear openly joining their party.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Above, Milihn let out a quiet complaint. Denaeh tilted her head upward and pursed her lips.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I know, old friend,” she murmured. “We won’t be traveling alone much longer.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Or, she added to herself with a touch of foreboding, we’ll be dead and won’t care.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sighing, Denaeh closed her eyes and cast her own magic out, the way she had done outside of Cahrdyarein and Nimbronia, using the elements to spy on the three travelers. Only three now because Jaax had taken a different road. At least she could find comfort in the fact that the brooding, tiresome dragon wouldn’t be present when she finally made contact. Knowing him and his shifty moods, he might just as soon burn her to a crisp before giving her a chance to speak.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tucking such dismal thoughts away where they couldn’t pester her, Denaeh returned her attention to the present. Her power tripped over tree roots as it headed downhill, zipping through veins of frozen water and creeping through solid stone. Eventually, it found the campsite she sought and Denaeh was given a murky view of a tiny crevasse in the mountainside. It was a good location to pass the dark hours of the night: veiled from the game path by trees and shrubs, as well as several tall slabs of granite. Black, charred wood still smoked in a rudimentary fire pit and sleeping rolls littered the ground nearby.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Denaeh got the impression that all three inhabitants had gone off into the surrounding woods to hunt, scout, or take care of the typical evening ablutions. A further push of her magic proved as much. Jahrra was down by the creek, trying to get clean, her limbit friend nearby fishing for trout. Once again, she could not sense the third member of their party, but she imagined he was checking the perimeter of their camp.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“If you want to search their packs, now’s the time,” the Mystic muttered to herself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Taking a deep breath to bolster her nerves, Denaeh descended the hill swiftly, stepping carefully to avoid tripping or making too much noise. Milihn glided past her on silent wings, searching for a perch so he might act as lookout. It took her nearly ten minutes to reach the floor of the narrow canyon and, casting one more sweeping glance behind her, she slipped into its mouth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A soft whicker drew her every muscle tight as a bowstring, but she relaxed when she noticed a trio of horses eyeing her curiously from where the canyon walls split to form the crevasse. No, not horses. A pack horse and two semequins. One was a brilliant, solid white, his intelligent eyes assessing her. The other she recognized immediately. Breaking into a smile, she approached them slowly, clucking her tongue and holding out her hand. The marble gray pressed his velvety nose to her palm and inhaled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hello, Phrym,” she crooned, scratching his forehead as he rumbled deep in his chest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Careful not to dally too long with the horses, Denaeh turned and started rummaging through the packs. It was horribly invasive of her, but she was hoping to find something, anything, to reveal the identity of the powerful mage. The first pack she went through held dried food items, the second, clothing. Shirts and vests and pants Denaeh judged to be Jahrra’s. The third bag contained tools and utensils used to prepare and cook camp meals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Frustrated but undeterred, Denaeh turned back to the horses. Their saddlebags were piled nearby along with some larger cases the pack horse must carry. Swiftly, Denaeh rifled through those as well, finding spare weapons, more spare clothes (including some fine dresses that must belong to Jahrra), as well as more extra food. She moved onto the saddlebags, aware of the time draining by. If she didn’t wish to be discovered this day, she had to move fast. The first set of saddlebags were Jahrra’s. They held some leather-bound journals full of her sketches of animals and plants, as well as other small treasures. She swiftly moved through the others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, Denaeh picked up the last set of bags, taking only a brief moment to appreciate the intricate design worked into the leather. She unsnapped the button and something solid and rectangular fell free, nearly crashing upon her toes. Curious, she set the bags aside and lifted an age-stained, wooden box. The Mystic brushed her fingers over the carved pattern, her nerves prickling a little. There was something terribly familiar about this box, but she couldn’t say what. A small golden hook looped through a metal latch kept it tightly shut. With deft fingers, she flicked the clasp open and carefully lifted the lid. The hinges creaked a little, but not so much to cause alarm. What was inside the box, however, stunned her. Astral cards, and not a false set. As she picked them up, gingerly shuffling the beautifully painted cards between her hands, she realized the magnitude of this find. These were real Astral cards, at least two or three centuries old. Maybe older. As she gazed upon them in awe, drinking in the rich artwork, she noticed a small mark in the bottom left corner of each of the inner faces of the set. She narrowed her eyes, then felt her heart kick up its pace as recognition pulsed through her, along with an ancient, zinging current of magic. Very familiar magic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She dropped the deck, both hands flying to her mouth as her eyes widened in astonishment. She knew these cards. She knew them. Not just a very fine set of old Astral cards, but a gift bestowed upon someone a long time ago. A gift both to show a deep appreciation for the intended as well as a way to convey an even deeper regret. She fell to her hands and knees, frantically raking her fingers through the leaves in search of the box and its spilled contents. Memories and emotions spun in Denaeh’s mind, but before she could calm her whirling thoughts long enough to consider what this all meant, before she could grasp one of those frantic memories and pin it in place to study it more closely, she was interrupted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The familiar creak of a bowstring being drawn taut was the only warning that she was no longer alone. Instantly, her every movement stilled, the hands pushing aside the leaf litter below halting to a stop. Even her slow breaths came to a standstill as her heart pounded against her ribcage. How had she been so easily caught off guard? Her magic was unfurled, giving her input from at least a half mile in every direction, aided by the powerful mage diamond tucked into one of the hidden pockets of her bodice. Yet, somehow this person had gotten the better of her. So Denaeh waited, her heart pounding in her ears, as the archer made up his or her mind whether or not to let their deadly arrow fly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">~~~</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Look for more snippets and quotes in the coming weeks and months on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/authorjejohnson/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> page!</span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-49516206258999478122017-10-02T21:26:00.000-07:002018-01-21T01:27:57.132-08:00A Brand New Short Read from Jenna Elizabeth Johnson!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hello Readers! It's been a long time since I posted anything new, but I hope this will brighten up our day. I entered this short tale into a writing competition, but alas, it did not win. Good news is I can now share it with you. My goal is to eventually write a collection of faerie tales set in the Otherworld and starring new characters from Eile. <i>Soot and Stone</i> (featured in the <i>Once Upon A Kiss</i> anthology) is one of those faerie tales and <i>The Curse of Inis Seacht</i> is another. Now, without further ado, here is your faerie tale! Happy reading!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- J.E. Johnson</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nEY52DEYL8-cKBq_EG75gc8XmWCk6aAoDC2OUKEA2tVy172oc9-mWohxwiR7vlhEIV8BF7Nxdfznpgnk0A44Ki0wMvSvU9UYurd5lByJxWV9Au2fwHTbx7KhDIAkDQ1ykQq98ZsYL54/s1600/The+Curse+of+Inis+Seacht+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1021" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nEY52DEYL8-cKBq_EG75gc8XmWCk6aAoDC2OUKEA2tVy172oc9-mWohxwiR7vlhEIV8BF7Nxdfznpgnk0A44Ki0wMvSvU9UYurd5lByJxWV9Au2fwHTbx7KhDIAkDQ1ykQq98ZsYL54/s400/The+Curse+of+Inis+Seacht+Cover.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once a year, Aneira's village is visited by the Collector, a man tasked with gathering an annual tithe from the people of Inis Seisear. Always hidden beneath a heavy, hooded cloak, it is common knowledge that this unwelcome stranger hides a hideous visage. Not that it matters to Aneira. She is blind, and despite the unquestionable love of her parents, she is tired of their overprotective ways. When her family's tithe goes missing, she volunteers herself as payment instead, unsure of who this Collector really is or if he is as kind as his unusual glamour suggests. What Aneira discovers on the island of Inis Seacht, however, is more than her chance at freedom, but a terrible curse she may or may not have the power to break.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">THE CURSE OF INIS SEACHT</span></span></b></span></h2>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>A Fae Tale of Eile</b></span></span></h2>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18.6667px;"><b>by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira stood her ground as the rest of the villagers scattered like mice disturbed from their nests. It was mid-afternoon on Samhain, and that evening they would light the great bonfire at the stone circle and offer up their thanks for a bountiful harvest. But not before the tithe was paid to the creature who had come to collect his goods. Just as he’d done every year before, the Collector had arrived at sunset, crossing the dark waters of Lake Ohll in his sturdy boat to demand payment from the poor villagers. Aneira had never feared him, even as a girl, even when the cloak he wore covered his entire body, face and all, sending all the other girls into fits of hysteria as they imagined what gruesome visage might lie beneath that hood. She did not fear him, perhaps, because she had never feared anything. Even when her eyesight began to fade away at the age of five, and even when her own glamour did not begin to manifest until two years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira’s glamour was different than that of her peers, being both a gift and a curse. Although her blindness caused her to walk in a constant fog, her natural Faelorehn glamour offered her a different perspective of her world. In her mind, people, animals, plants and even objects appeared as blossoms of glorious color in her head. And the kinder of heart, the more pure of spirit the person or being, the brighter their aura appeared to her. So, perhaps that was the true reason behind her lack of horror regarding the Collector. This creature, this mangled and disfigured stranger who was feared by all, had the brightest essence she had ever seen in a living thing. Despite his outward appearance, and his harsh words, true goodness burned within.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was Aneira’s father who stepped forth when it was their turn to pay the tithe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“P-please, sir. We had a wealth of honey set aside for you, collected from our own hives, but this morning when I went to gather the jars to bring into town ...”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His voice trailed off, his throat closing around the words.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“They were gone, sir,” Aneira’s mother cried. “We searched everywhere.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Collector growled in response, “All must give payment. No exceptions.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The crowd passed around hushed exclamations, backing away from this creature. They had paid their tithes and only remained to see what became of Aneira’s family.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira squared her shoulders and stepped forward.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You must take me, as payment. I am my parents’ only child, truly more valuable to them than any trinket or harvested crop. We cannot afford to give you any of our extra stores in place of the honey, or my family will go hungry come the winter.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The young woman’s voice trembled as she spoke, but she refused to back down. She sensed the man standing before her, tall, strong, oozing menace. But that part of her mind that could see into the hearts of others painted an entirely different picture. A soul as brilliant as the sun, as multicolored as a spring day in Eile, radiated past all the layers of darkness and menace.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Very well,” the man replied. “My boat awaits on the shore. Let us leave before true dark sets in.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira’s mother rushed forth. “No! Aneira! You mustn’t go with him!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I will not allow it!” her father added, anger and disbelief tainting his voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira turned to them and clasped their hands. “I must. The creature says we must pay a price, and we have no other thing of value to offer.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before her parents could protest any further, Aneira broke free of their hold and hurried after the Collector, his brilliant soul a guiding light along the dark road.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What is your name?” Aneira dared to ask from her corner of the boat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They had reached the dock ten minutes after leaving the village square, the Collector climbing in and waiting for her to join him. Aneira, although feeling a little nervous, carefully navigated her way into the unsteady structure before finding her seat. Now, they were on their way to his island, or so she presumed, and the silence between them was more awkward than she liked. Only the lap of the water against the boat’s sides and the breathy gust of wind greeted her ears. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Quinlan,” the man finally said. “My name is Quinlan.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira tried the name out on her tongue. She liked it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I am Aneira,” she replied with a smile, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to bring the stranger’s form into view. Sometimes, if she tried hard enough, she could make out the physical shapes of people and things with her eyes. Ah, and there he was. A dark blur of cold solitude. Like a storm cloud brewing over the lake. Before Aneira could think of any other questions, the boat came to an abrupt stop, nearly unseating her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Your island was the last one I visited,” Quinlan said, standing and stepping out of the boat. “It is the smallest, besides my own. Now, what can you do to earn your keep here?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira made to stand and almost fell into the water. If not for Quinlan’s quick reflexes, she would have.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Be careful,” he snapped, his voice low and gruff.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira felt herself being jerked forward and she let out a small yelp of protest before her feet crunched against the gravel below. Icy water lapped at her boots and the hem of her skirts, but before she could grumble a complaint, Quinlan was pulling her forward, his movements jerky and rough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You’re hurting me!” she hissed, yanking her arm free. “Have you no manners?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“No, I do not. I would think, having lived in the island chain all your life, you would’ve caught on to this fact long before now,” Quinlan replied bitterly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira glared toward the bright source of light taking up all the space in her foggy mind. What in Eile made this man’s spirit shine so brightly?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Perhaps that is what I can provide for you. Lessons on how to behave in a civil manner. You clearly lack in that area,” she quipped, unafraid of what ire she might be calling down upon herself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan merely snarled and took her arm again. Aneira made to resist, but his grip was gentle now, and he didn’t drag her along, only guided her. They walked for about a mile, leaving behind the shoreline and finding sturdier ground.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Would you mind describing the scenery for me?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Collector’s steady stride faltered, and his steps slowed. Good. Aneira was growing weary of his relentless pace.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What he said next surprised her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“How long have you been blind?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His gentle tone was unexpected, a crack in that menacing wall surrounding him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I started losing my eyesight almost fifteen years ago, when I was five, just after my parents and I moved to Inis Seisear,” she admitted. “My glamour manifested very late, much later than most Faelorehn, and when my sight began to fade, my parents thought I’d been cursed with a geis by someone.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She grinned a little, then went on, “I was a headstrong girl. The older children who liked to torment me and the others soon learned that I tolerated none of their nonsense, so I’ve gained a few enemies over the years.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan stopped and turned to face her. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel his focus shifting toward her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“So, you’ve always been a brave woman, then? Standing in the face of fear and daring it to defeat you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“No. I’ve just never had much patience for intolerance, cruelty, or bullies.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan’s bright aura pulsed before her, not enough to cause alarm, but just enough for Aneira to take note. She wondered what it meant. Before she could voice her concern, however, Quinlan was leading her away once more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Heather and holly and hawthorn grow mostly on my island. We will climb a short hill to my home, then you can rest.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It took Aneira a few moments to recall the start of their conversation, and she smiled as that hairline crack widened just a bit more. Before she could press Quinlan with any more questions, he was leading her up the hill and into the welcoming darkness of his home. Her home now, at least for the next year.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira didn’t know what to make of the inside of Quinlan’s home. The darkness that enveloped her soon disappeared as he brought a banked fire back to life, the delicious scent of wood smoke quickly overpowering the hints of dust, leather, sandalwood, and lavender tainting the air. The floor beneath her boots was stone, but as she stepped carefully about the room, she detected rugs spread upon the ground like autumn leaves peppering a forest floor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“There is an extra bed in the attic upstairs. It should be large enough for you. I reside in the room down the narrow hallway.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira found her room without trouble, following the stairs up into the small attic. She also discovered a bay window with a bench, her fingertips sinking into soft cushions and brushing up against cool glass. With nothing else to occupy her time, she collapsed onto the narrow bed and tried not to think about her parents crying after her. She loved them dearly, but they had never once given her the chance to prove she could be independent. This was her chance, even though she was at the mercy of the Collector. Some deep-seated instinct, her glamour perhaps, convinced her she would find what she was looking for here, with a man whom all the others despised. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira drew in a deep breath and curled beneath the soft blankets. Not such a bad place after all, this secluded stone cabin. In a few minutes, she was fast asleep and dreaming of <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>waves and monsters, and brave maidens defying them both.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira woke the next morning to the muffled sound of voices. Two, no, three deep, masculine voices. At first, her heart thudded in her throat, and then she remembered where she was: On Inis Seacht, the Collector’s island.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stretching out of bed, she crept downstairs, using her hands to guide the way. A soft breeze wafted in through a window somewhere, and as Aneira drew nearer, the voices became more clear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“There should be more,” one man groused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What I have supplemented should suffice. It should be more than enough,” the Collector replied gruffly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“That is not what we’ve come to expect. Not what the Morrigan has come to expect,” a second man added.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“It is all the goddess will get this year. Good day, gentleman.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan’s sharp rebuke surprised Aneira.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The crunch of boots on gravel and barely discernible muttering drifted away just before the door squeaked open.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira gasped and whirled around to face the opposite wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Collector’s bright essence filled the room, and she squinted her eyes, even though it did nothing to dim his light.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Spying on me? Is that why you insisted on taking the place of your parents’ tithe?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I wasn’t spying! I heard voices and came downstairs.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Never mind,” Quinlan bit out. “Do you know how to cook?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira squared her shoulders and faced the brilliant light that was the Collector.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“No. My mother refused to teach me. She feared I might injure myself around the fire and hot stove.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before Quinlan could make a reply, she hurried on, “I wish to learn, though. I’m sure I will learn fast if you would just show me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A long, terrifying pause, and then the Collector spoke.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Very well. We’ll start with building a fire in the stove, then move on to boiling water and making simple broths.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira almost cried with joy, but quickly tamped down her delight so as not to appear too eager. For the rest of that day, Quinlan patiently walked her through the process of preparing a simple meal and by mid-afternoon, she had even managed to brew a fresh pot of tea for them to share.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The days passed by quickly this way, with Aneira learning how to prepare the daily meals and picking up new skills along the way. Besides cooking, Quinlan taught her how to mend tears in clothing, light and bank the fire in the hearth, and keep the stone cottage neat and tidy. With her fingertips and the speck of vision she had left, Aneira learned her way around the cabin and took pride in helping keep it organized. The autumn days grew shorter, and if the weather was mild, Quinlan would take her with him to harvest mushrooms, berries, and chestnuts from the grove on the northern side of the island.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I miss seeing the autumn colors the most,” Aneira admitted, as they began their trek back to the cabin one afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Then, let me describe them to you,” Quinlan offered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira listened intently as he painted a brilliant image of gold, crimson, and ochre within her mind. Despite the chill weather and being away from the village she’d called home for many years, her heart was light and happy. <i>Free</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As they neared the base of the hill, the Collector reached back to take her hand so she might not trip on the walk up. And for the first time since coming to this place to live with him, she appreciated, and savored, that small contact.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When they reached the garden and stepped through the stone gate, Aneira slowed her steps, causing Quinlan to pause with her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like always, she could not see his face, but she studied that bright spirit burning before her. Aneira reached out to touch his face, craving more than that comforting grip on her hand, but Quinlan hissed and pulled away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Do not touch me!” he growled, whipping his cloak aside and leaving her in a hurry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira stood out in the garden until the light of the world dimmed around her. Long enough for the tears to dry from her face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The winter months soon nipped at the heels of autumn, the ice and snow and cold winds from the mountains to the north blowing their frosty breath down upon the lowlands and over the black surface of Lake Ohll. Aneira spent most of her time cooped up in the cottage with Quinlan, continuing her various lessons. The enigmatic Faelorehn man never mentioned her attempt to brush her fingers against his face, and she kept it tucked away as well. It did not do to dwell on disappointment, and the last thing Aneira wished to do was broach a subject that would only drive a wedge between them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eventually, winter melted away into spring, and Quinlan started his wanderings again. Aneira was able to follow him with her glamour, stretching her magic out far enough to find his, a firefly flickering on the edge of her consciousness. While he was gone, she would practice all the new tasks she’d learned, or wander out into his walled garden and tend to the young plants there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One afternoon, Quinlan returned to find her kneeling in the onion beds pulling weeds.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What are you doing!?” he shouted, crashing through the gate in his haste to reach her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shocked, Aneira fell back, her muddied hands held up before her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m taking out the weeds!” she insisted, her sightless eyes wide.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before Quinlan could roar at her again, she added, “I can tell them apart from the vegetables, I swear it. Their spark is different from the onions, cabbages, and turnips. See for yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She groped around on the ground, scooping up the discarded plants she had pulled free of the earth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan took her hands in his, his touch gentle despite his earlier outrage. Aneira was reminded of the day he pulled away from her and tried not to shiver. His fingers were rough, his palms scarred. She allowed her glamour to flow free, and the blazing torch that was his soul flared before her. Warm, brilliant, and blinding, in its own way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Forgive me,” was all the Faelorehn man said, before dropping her hands and disappearing into the cabin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira stared at the spot where he had been standing, wondering if he would ever see her the way she saw him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan did not protest Aneira’s time spent in the garden from that day forth, and Aneira found the small patch of earth to be a place of healing solitude. She could breathe in the scent of wildflowers, listen to the trickling of a small stream somewhere on the other side of the wall, revel in the sound of birdsong filling the mighty oak that offered shade on particularly warm days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">During those long evenings, after the meal was prepared, Quinlan would sit in his large chair and select a book from his collection. He most often chose the fae tales to read, and upon Aneira’s insistence, he would read them aloud.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I never learned how to read,” she told him as she prepared the fire, for the nights were still chilly. “That was the one thing I never insisted on learning to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There had been no point, after all. Her eyes were not strong enough to discern the words on a page.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Then, I shall read every story aloud, so that no matter where you are in the cottage, you will hear them,” Quinlan replied before beginning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira paused in her chore, the kindling she’d been arranging in the hearth dropping into the ash below. Quinlan’s words made her smile, but before she could linger over them, he delved into a story of adventure and intrigue.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When he finished the tale, Aneira took a deep breath and said, “Tell me another story, Quinlan. Tell me why you live alone on this island. Why you travel to the others once a year to strip us of our surplus of food and goods. I have seen your soul. I have been here nearly a year, and you’ve made a valiant effort to hide your true nature from me. But I have seen your goodness, despite my blindness.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She touched a hand to the corner of one eye, smiling despite the tightness in her throat, hoping he watched her face. Praying he could read her emotions as well as she had learned to read his.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I can see everything that matters, because I do not have my sight to distract me. I can feel everything. So, tell me. What curse has befallen you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan was quiet for a very long time, the only sound in the room being the crackle of the fire.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Quinlan?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The whisper-soft sound of the Collector rising from his chair was swiftly followed by a curt, “The evening grows late. I bid you good night, Aneira.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before she could formulate a reply, the overpowering glimmer of her reluctant captor’s aura faded away down the hall before finally blinking out behind his bedroom door.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Autumn has come to greet us once again,” Quinlan said absentmindedly one late afternoon as he and Aneira tended to the small garden behind the stone house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It had been several weeks since Aneira had asked after his geis, his curse, and although he had been polite and continued to teach her and guide her in the many tasks around the cottage, he had been careful to keep his distance. And now Samhain was a day away. She’d been with him so long, and yet, she still had no idea what he looked like. And that had nothing to do with her blindness. Feeling bold, Aneira stood from the flower bed she’d been weeding.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“May I touch you?” she asked, her voice strong, her spine straight as she lifted both her arms.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The request shocked Quinlan, and he jerked back slightly, away from Aneira’s reaching hands.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Why?” was his gruff reply.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“It’s how I see things, well, the physical aspect of things,” she answered, her mouth cut in a stubborn line.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Very well,” Quinlan finally conceded, standing absolutely still, his hands balled at his sides.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira smiled, her beautiful gray eyes bright as silver, despite their malady.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She reached out, running her fingers along Quinlan’s rough cheek. The first brush of Aneira’s touch against his face had Quinlan’s eyes drifting shut. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing deepened. He had never been touched before, not like this, and it took everything in him to keep from reaching out to her and doing the same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her fingers traced the various scars marring his face, ran along the ridges of his cheekbones, and traced the bridge of his nose before coming to rest upon his lips.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira released a deep sigh, and Quinlan tensed, ready for the disgust, or worse, the kind words of pity to fall on his ears. But that was not what happened.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You are beautiful, Quinlan. I know you feel your face and your body have been ruined and made hideous, and I know that is what the islanders say about you, but it isn’t true. I may not be able to see you with my eyes, but I can see you with my glamour. It has this uncanny ability to reveal a person’s true worth to me. Since that first day you came to my village and took me away in place of my parents’ offering, I could see your soul. I don’t know why, but I do know that you are not the monster the villagers have always painted you to be.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A hot tear spilled from Quinlan’s eye and trailed down his mangled face. In that moment, he wished he had Aneira’s gift. He wished he could see her spirit the way she saw his. He imagined it shone like the brightest star in the winter sky. The thought, to his surprise, wasn’t all that daunting. But the sentiment behind it frightened him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You cannot stay here any longer, Aneira. You’ve paid off your family’s debt.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan’s voice was clipped, though it shook ever so slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Aneira answered, her own tone wavered. “What about for this coming year? And the next? Surely my parents are in the same situation as last year. How will they pay their tithe if I do not stay?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Then, I will not ask it of them,” Quinlan replied, his tone hard, unyielding.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira drew breath to argue, but the Collector snarled, “Enough! I leave to gather what is owed to me in the morning. When I return, you will not be here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With a swift flick of his cloak, Quinlan turned on his heel and walked back to the cottage, leaving Aneira to shiver in the cold shadow of his absence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next morning, Aneira woke to the sound of frantic voices.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“She must be here somewhere,” someone said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Locked up in that ramshackle cabin, or perhaps tied to that sickly oak tree.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tears spilled down Aneira’s face. The cabin was not ramshackle, and the oak was not sickly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“We must get her out of here before that monster returns,” a third voice hissed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What is it he said, Harold? That the girl had outlived her welcome? More of a drain on his resources than any help? Disgusting, that beast. Perhaps he is as blind as our Aneira to not be able to see her beauty.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pain lanced Aneira’s heart, but she had no other choice but to meet these villagers, her old friends. Quinlan wanted her gone. With a heavy heart, she stepped from the cabin and walked down to them. She could sense their sparks of life, nothing compared to the blazing inferno that burned beside Quinlan’s heart.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He is tired of your chatter and nonsense, girl. It is time to return home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The village of Inis Seisear was overjoyed upon seeing Aneira’s safe return. Her parents rushed out to greet her, her mother raining down kisses and her father checking her arms and neck for any injuries.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You are unhurt?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m not hurt,” she replied.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Except for my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That evening, the Collector of Inis Seacht returned, demanding his tithe. This time, more than required was brought forth, for the villagers feared the creature might make off with their sons or daughters since Aneira had been returned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira stood at the back of the crowd, her father all but demanding she remain home for the event.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I will go,” she insisted, still as stubborn and headstrong as ever. She would see him again, even if it was only that bright, burning soul of his, and even if he had no desire to see her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so, she accompanied her parents into town. She had watched the pale glowing bits of light that represented her friends and family, and had drawn in her breath when Quinlan’s brilliant burst of luminosity outshone them all. It seemed brighter now, more vibrant. A happy essence glad to be rid of her, perhaps.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The bounties were given over, and the townsfolk retreated to their own bonfire to celebrate the Samhain festival. While she watched the bright flames glow within her fuzzy vision, Aneira realized she’d never gotten Quinlan’s story from him. When she mentioned this to her mother, the other Faelorehn woman quickly rattled off the tale to her curious daughter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Oh, the story goes that he got onto the wrong side of things with the Morrigan, and not only did she disfigure him, but she placed a geis on him to remain on that island for all his days, only allowed to leave once a year to pester us for our goods.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That night, as Aneira lay awake in her own bed, her mother’s words and her own observations over the past year tumbled around in her head. If Quinlan was a selfish person, his glamour would not burn so brightly. A memory, a year old now, surfaced in her mind. The sound of voices outside the Collector’s cabin. Their complaint that there hadn’t been enough . . . enough what? And then Quinlan’s own words joined the others: <i>“What I have supplemented should suffice.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira’s mind churned as she recalled other details: How Quinlan spent most of his days wandering about the island, how he kept a garden and harvested wild nuts, fruits, and other goods. How he worked the way her fellow neighbors did, growing crops and storing them away. Why would he make the effort if the tithe provided him with all he needed throughout the year?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira threw aside the sheets and bolted to her wardrobe. With deft fingers, she laced up her bodice and tied her skirts in place. Grabbing a shawl, she crept to the door, opening it and closing it as quietly as she could. She slinked downstairs and out the kitchen door into the freezing night. Cold air stung her cheeks and coated her lungs, but she did not turn back. Gradually, she picked her way through the sleeping village, reaching the docks ten minutes after leaving her home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She felt for a sturdy boat, then climbed in, unlooping the rope along the way. She picked up a paddle and closed her eyes, letting her glamour flood her senses and stretch out far beyond her body. There, across the icy, black lake, she detected a tiny, but brilliant, spark of light. Quinlan. With dogged determination, she dipped the single paddle of the boat into the water and pushed off from the dock.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan was just about to retire for the night when a tentative knock sounded on his front door. He had been reclining in his favorite chair, a book of fae tales opened on his lap, when the interruption came. It was probably a good thing, because his thoughts weren’t lost in the story like they ought to be. No, he was too busy thinking about the delivery of the goods he’d made to the Morrigan’s soldiers, the fuel that kept the geis burning, the payment that kept the greedy goddess away. The battle-worn Faelorehn men had been waiting at his cabin when he’d arrived earlier that evening from collecting the tithes, and relief so strong it had nearly brought him to his knees had washed over him. Aneira was gone. Her people had answered his summons and had come to take her away. These horrible men and the goddess they served would never learn of Aneira and her gifted glamour. They would never be able to harm her as they’d harmed him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The knock came again, and Quinlan frowned. Perhaps these were the soldiers returning to demand more payment. He would give them whatever they asked, so long as it got them away from his islands and the secrets they held.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Collector rose and crossed to the door. But the face that greeted him on the other side sent both a wave of shock and joy through him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I wanted you to know,” Aneira said, her tone slightly breathless, “that it was my choice to leave my village last year and mine alone.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bewilderment soon outshone the Collector’s other emotions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You sent me away because you thought I was being punished, but I wasn’t. If I hadn’t wanted to leave with you last Samhain, nothing could have compelled me to do so. I am a stubborn young woman, if you recall.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan’s brow pinched in puzzlement, but as he stood there turning Aneira’s words over in his head, it grew suddenly clear to him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Your parents did not misplace their tithe,” he said, his voice soft and level.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira nodded, smiling with the first signs of shyness Quinlan had ever seen in her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“No. As much as it pained me to do so, I took our year’s supply of honey and dropped it in the lake. I was tired of being looked over, tired of being pitied and treated as if I might break into a thousand pieces if I so much as tripped over a stray stone in the street. I felt trapped in that village, Quinlan. I had to get out, by any means necessary.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Even if it meant spending a year of solitude on an island with the likes of me?” the Collector asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira shook her head again, her pale gray eyes brimming with tears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“And what of you, Quinlan? I heard you the morning after Samhain. I heard you speaking with those men, the Morrigan’s soldiers. The tithe you collected from all the islands, you handed it over to them, didn’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan remained silent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“This is why you still farm and harvest from the land. It is because you still need to provide for yourself. The tithe was not for you, it was for them. I think it is time for you to tell me your story, Quinlan. No more excuses.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> With a heavy sigh, the Collector stepped aside, inviting Aneira into his cottage. When they were both comfortably seated, he began his tale.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Many years ago, the Morrigan sent scouts to these islands to recruit soldiers for her armies. I was young then, about your age, and fancied myself brave. I was trying to impress the young women of my village, so I told the soldiers to look elsewhere. My glamour was strong, and I was able to resist their attempts to make off with the men and women old enough to serve the goddess of war and strife. Twice more they returned, each time warning me the Morrigan would curse me with a geis should I not comply. Feeling confident in my magic, I sent them away again. The next time someone came for us, it was the Morrigan herself.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan paused to take a breath before he continued.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“She flew into the village square in her raven form, transforming into a woman before touching the ground. Her dark glamour was terrible and stronger than anything I had ever felt. In that moment, I realized what a fool I had been. Before I could beg for mercy, she swept her magic over me, scarring my face, arms, and hands, claiming that if not for my pride, I would have listened to sense and joined her cause without a fight. She left me there, damaged and screaming, unable to break free of the hold her glamour had on me, as she took not only those old enough to fight, but all the people of our islands. She told me that I would be left to guard this place, and if people decided to move in again, she would come and take them, like cattle to the slaughter.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinlan paused for a moment, but Aneira didn’t dare speak.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“But the goddess of war is cruel, and she told me that I could stop this from happening. I could continue to refuse and resist her, if I wished, but she would take her payment in one form or another. I was disfigured now, she reminded me, and I could use that to my advantage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You can continue to protect your flock, little shepherd, but in order to do so, you must take from them every year something of value. They will fear you, because of what you have become. They will grow to despise you and they will cast you out. And every year, on Samhain, you will visit these islands and demand payment from them for my sake. Or, you can let me recruit from their number each year.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I chose to ostracize myself, for it was because of my pride that my family and friends were torn from me to be used in the Morrigan’s bloody battles. I deserved to be set apart, and I would take on the role of the cruel monster who demanded payment from them every year because I didn’t want them to suffer the same fate as those before them. And because I deserved to be hated and despised.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Silence, dark and heavy, fell over the room, and it took a long while for Aneira to find her voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You’ve saved us all, Quinlan. You resisted the Morrigan’s demand and because of it, we remain safe from her evil grasp.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“And I remain cursed, destined to live out my mortal existence alone on this island.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His tone held bitterness, but not regret.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You do not have to be alone anymore, Quinlan. I can see past that wall of anger and bitterness you have built up around yourself. My glamour can see you, and you are one of the most selfless men I have ever known.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aneira reached out to touch his face, and for once, he did not protest; he did not pull away. His skin was rough and smooth and warm, just as she remembered. Aneira smiled, tears forming in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I do not deserve you,” Quinlan murmured, his voice rough, as he turned his face into her touch. “I could never deserve you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Perhaps not, but you need me, and I need you. It’s time we stop fighting what brings us the most joy.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She leaned into him, encircling his waist with her arms, pressing her ear to his chest. His heart thrummed strongly beneath his tunic and when he stood from his chair, his arms tightening about her to pull her close, happiness radiated from her in brilliant waves. And that beautiful light that made up his soul shone so bright, it encompassed them both.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">-End-</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-74199959343382005242017-07-04T22:33:00.000-07:002017-07-04T22:33:26.271-07:00GET A FREE ECOPY OF FAEBORNE FROM INSTAFREEBIE! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
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AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-60516620106198378902017-04-05T09:00:00.000-07:002017-04-05T09:00:12.031-07:00FIVE DAYS OF DRAGON INTERVIEWS, DAY 5 - AN INTERVIEW WITH DAVID JONES!<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hello Eager Readers! Last day for sharing the guest posts written by the authors featured in the PLAGUE OF DRAGONS anthology (Now Available!). Today's feature author is DAVID JONES!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Plague-Dragons-Dragon-Anthology-ebook/dp/B06WGNTYVF" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1lUJJcySshKabng85BTUTqaO09efzhn3cZuxR5jO4I9zykjUhsQFSXBQC_DvIyoARHc2muHS52rU94sU5jpWM-CJX-_LQ2eTCIrsnbbswR9nthBPM05Q0EVmZKIrdDGIqMIlMvpLTPs/s400/Plague+of+Dragons+banner2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b style="text-indent: 0in;"><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Tell us a bit about your story.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<i><div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="text-indent: 0in;">The Sky Hunter</i><span style="text-indent: 0in;"> is a sci-fi military
story that introduces us to Ilana, a human warrior who was raised by the Ociel,
a race of dragon people, on their islands in the sky. Her past is a mystery,
even to her, and that’s partly because of the Ociel, so she resents them. Ilana
is relatively new to being a Sky Hunter, and wears a special suit of armor
called the Aether Suit that allows her to keep up with her fellow warriors. She
descends to the surface world, which is absolutely foreign to her, with the
intent to fulfill this final mission for the Ociel elders, and then go off on
her own. This story essentially blends </span><i style="text-indent: 0in;">Metroid</i><span style="text-indent: 0in;">,
</span><i style="text-indent: 0in;">Mega Man X</i><span style="text-indent: 0in;">, </span><i style="text-indent: 0in;">Jurassic Park</i><span style="text-indent: 0in;">, dragons, and </span><i style="text-indent: 0in;">Little
Shop of Horrors</i><span style="text-indent: 0in;"> together in really fun ways, and Ilana is by far the
strongest, most badass character I’ve written to date.</span></div>
</i><br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Have you written any other dragon stories?</span><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
The first book I ever wrote is
called <i>Onyx The Half Hero Dragon</i>.
It’s still unreleased, but it’s a story that I’ve always loved. I’ve grown a
lot as a writer since I started work on Onyx, which has had a ridiculously long
development history, but I have every intention to release Onyx by the end of
the year. Onyx The Half Hero Dragon is a coming of age story about a young
bionic dragon who grew up on a mythic island, and was raised by a mechanical
engineer named Sheila. They set out to explore the island they live on to hunt
down components for a powerful new weapon, and quickly find themselves caught
up in war. There's much more to the story, obviously, but I'm not about to
spoil everything here.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Will there be a sequel to </i>The Sky Hunter</span><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">?</span><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
I would love to write a sequel to
<i>The Sky Hunter</i>. Ilana's world is full
of possibilities, and even I don't know where she's headed.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for the guest post,
David! You can find out more about David Jones on his website: <a href="http://davidjonesart.com/" target="_blank">http://davidjonesart.com/</a></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-38123123351308055952017-04-04T09:00:00.000-07:002017-04-04T09:00:07.461-07:00FIVE DAYS OF DRAGON INTERVIEWS, DAY 4 - AN INTERVIEW WITH MICHAEL K. ROSE!<span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">Hello Eager Readers! For the next few days, I'll be sharing a post a day written by one of the authors featured in the PLAGUE OF DRAGONS anthology (Now Available!). Today's feature author is MICHAEL K. ROSE!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Plague-Dragons-Dragon-Anthology-ebook/dp/B06WGNTYVF" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkJunHvUsAenfDv7A5MJVZCMw32zwdltQ8PDlRnkFGP7tI1NUrWfAGHv8UTow07zLZV9SdNSCeIXQaIM91NdQ6kemEKSFcLP6lmrsHH48nzyK8_JGx8fjB8jaKtXVWXKR5bldCi30SVM/s400/Plague+of+Dragons+AD.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Tell me a bit about your story.</span></i><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
“Brutality”
is the story of a young man living on a remote island that is terrorized by
dragons every generation or so. It’s written as a first-person narrative,
because I wanted the reader to experience the dragon attack through his eyes.
My stories generally tend to be pretty fast paced, and “Brutality” is no
exception. Once the action gets going, the tension doesn’t really let up until
the climax.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Are
there any aspects of dragon lore—and, subsequently, modern dragon fiction—that
you particularly like or dislike?</span><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
I
like the idea of dragons as manifestations of certain human traits, and it’s
something my story touches on. Think of the Norse story of Fafnir, the dwarf
who is transformed into a serpent or a dragon by his greed. In this aspect,
dragons are similar to many other creatures of folklore and literature: the
vampire, the werewolf, even Frankenstein’s monster. All these creatures reflect
the darker things lurking below the surface of our rational human minds.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Are you fond of films like </i>Dragonslayer<i> that depict dragons as mindless, violent
animals, or do you prefer your dragons with a bit more intelligence and,
perhaps, kindness?<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">
I
like both, and there is room for both. While historically, dragons have had
very specific roles in human culture, modern writers and audiences have adapted
the idea into something much more expansive. The same has been done with the
creatures I mentioned a moment ago: vampires and werewolves. And perhaps
because they started as aspects of the human psyche, it’s only natural to see
ourselves in them and, in many cases, make them heroes in their own right. That
being said, I wanted to make this story’s dragons fit the more traditional
narrative, although they <i>do</i> have
intelligence, which is something the islanders in “Brutality” have to contend
with.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">* * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for the interview, Michael! You can find out more about Michael K. Rose on his website: <a href="http://www.michaelkrose.com/" target="_blank">http://www.michaelkrose.com/</a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-31314970631028438172017-04-03T09:00:00.000-07:002017-04-03T19:10:43.219-07:00FIVE DAYS OF DRAGON INTERVIEWS, DAY 3 - AN INTERVIEW WITH ALEXIA PURDY!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hello Eager Readers! For the next five days, I'll be sharing a post a day written by one of the authors featured in the PLAGUE OF DRAGONS anthology (Now Available!). Today's feature author is ALEXIA PURDY!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Plague-Dragons-Dragon-Anthology-ebook/dp/B06WGNTYVF" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Sa2iyLi0oNDuHLtPScZVyZgrnCgcJ4KVpxvCTJxoV-8-9CxRrui_sAcwXOTUrhGNV0bKSXSuMfcNIUJNCTLqThXcp35u6rAFk43zp8Rf5qwr5PBd1jkRbeWQ13xa657YosTeYLf8YQc/s400/Plague+of+Dragons+banner2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Do you have a favorite dragon from legend, literature
or film?</span><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There are two. One is the dragon from <i>The Neverending Story</i>. I always loved
the concept of a “luck” dragon and I think I based Catori around this. Though
her life has been kind of rough up until this point, she is a catalyst of sorts
for those around her, and I think that as time goes on, this will stand out
more. The second dragon I admired was the one from the movie <i>Reign of Fire</i>. It scared me and became
truly a post-apocalyptic scenario that could frighten anyone about dragons. I
loved the way people dealt with the mythical creature and how they survived its
wrath. It made more “real world” to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Will there be a sequel to </i>Lucidium</span><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">?</span><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yes. <i>Lucidium</i>
is part one of the story, and I have plans to continue the series in the near
future. I don’t have a title for part 2, but I plan to extend part 1 into a
novel-length adventure if possible and then put out book 2 of the series. We’ll
see how it goes.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Dragons are inherently magical; they cannot
exist in nature. That being said, did you give any consideration to natural or
physical limitations when you were dreaming up your dragons? Why or why not?</span><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I did make my dragons smaller than the usual sized
dragons you see in the movies. Mine was more the size of Falkor in <i>The Neverending Story</i> for the one reason
that I don’t believe that a person can truly shift their body into a much
larger mass than their body. I didn’t want them the exact same size, but not
gigantic like one would think of when thinking of dragons. Though several times
larger than a person, they aren’t that much bigger than an elephant. I think
keeping them smaller makes sense and works in my story better than making them
huge.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for the interview, Alexia! You can find out more about Alexia Purdy on her website: <a href="http://www.alexiapurdybooks.com/" target="_blank">http://www.alexiapurdybooks.com/</a></span></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-25560822033973212902017-04-02T09:00:00.000-07:002017-04-02T09:00:25.184-07:00FIVE DAYS OF DRAGON INTERVIEWS, DAY 2 - AN INTERVIEW WITH JASON LAVELLE!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Hello Eager Readers! For the next five days, I'll be sharing a
post a day written by one of the authors featured in the PLAGUE OF DRAGONS
anthology (Now Available!). Today's feature author is JASON LAVELLE!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Plague-Dragons-Dragon-Anthology-ebook/dp/B06WGNTYVF" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOLeHbL0AgMs34zNx2gBaKFv7Lc7Yrqh_6NOSFYE2Wa2OtO4HK_Ab4Nd6p01_SE4xEJuV90QIVcyr_9dPcAoQmQTA69KlTPJK7fXj80yKPnGBRaT9V7xIjV2nrKjTjQDHjzu7rFQoB_6U/s400/Plague+of+Dragons+AD.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Dragons are inherently magical; they cannot
exist in nature. That being said, did you give any consideration to natural or
physical limitations when you were dreaming up your dragons? Why or why not?</span><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think the idea has always been that because dragons are
magical, they cannot exist in nature, that they can’t be real. That seems like
a reasonable, adult idea, but I challenge you with this question: Is there
anything that exists in nature, that lives either among us or in some faraway
place that isn’t powered by some kind of ‘magic’?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Are there any plants or creatures on this earth that were
not created by ‘magic’?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You yourself, humanity, are we not the product of some
kind of ‘divine magic’ or science that cannot be explained?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Everything on our planet, and in fact, life itself is
magical, and I’m not talking about some hippy-dippy bologna, I’m talking about
the very mechanics of how life works – we know a heart pumps blood, we know a
lung draws air, we know a brain sends and interprets electrical impulses that
control everything from motor functions to our thoughts and memories, but what
actually breathes ‘life’ into life? It’s magic! Something we will never
understand but that exists nonetheless.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, do dragons exist? I have no idea! Could they exist?
Of course! Just because something is ‘magical,’ and we haven’t seen it yet,
doesn’t mean it isn’t still out there, waiting to be discovered… or perhaps,
avoiding discovery.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The dragons in my story are not so different from us,
they have hopes and fears, they experience pain and they feel joy. In their
human forms they have the same physical limitations as we do, and while in
dragon form, they have a completely different set of physiological traits. Even
when writing in a fantasy world, I try to give my characters the dignity and
respect they deserve by not only endowing them with gifts, but with limitations
as well. No animal is perfect, not even a dragon, and they must live within
their limitations to survive. What happens when two different, intelligent
creatures, such as humans and dragons are thrust together? You’ll have to read
A Cold Fire to find out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">How many average-sized adult sheep do you
think the dragons in your story would have to consume per day?</span></i></b><b style="font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Everything has to eat to survive. Humans are omnivores,
we eat a bit of everything. Some creatures eat only plants, and plants consume
nutrients and sunlight. There are bacteria on this planet that consume things
that we wouldn’t normally even think of as food, such as atmospheric gases, and
even electricity. So it would follow that dragons have to eat too. My dragons
eat like a human would, consuming meats, fruits and vegetables – on a little
bit larger scale. While the average human needs about 1,800 calories a day to
survive, one of my dragons needs closer to 130,000, or roughly two adult sheep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">The dragons in your story are shapeshifters.
In many shapeshifter stories, people lose their humanity while in their animal
forms; werewolf tales are a well-known example of this. Do your dragons retain
all aspects of their humanity when in dragon form?</span></b></i><b style="font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Regardless of their physical form, whether it is the
cold-blooded reptilian dragon, or the warm-blooded human, my shapeshifters
remain intelligent and reasonable, capable of complex thought and careful
decision making. Whether or not they will use those skills, well, that’s a
different story.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Are you fond of films like </i>Dragonslayer</span></b><i><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> that depict dragons as mindless, violent
animals, or do you prefer your dragons with a bit more intelligence and,
perhaps, kindness?</span><o:p></o:p></b></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My favorite dragon movie is <i>Reign Of Fire</i>, a post-apocalyptic story where the dragons are the
tormentors and human-kind has been hunted to near extinction. The movie stars
some very kick-ass fire-breathing dragons, Christian Bale (before he lost it)
and a buff, tattooed Matthew McConaughey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for the interview, Jason! You can find out more about
Jason LaVelle on his website:</span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://darkhorsestudios3.wixsite.com/lavelle" target="_blank">http://darkhorsestudios3.wixsite.com/lavelle</a></span></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-85184832973841767322017-04-01T09:00:00.000-07:002017-04-03T19:10:54.121-07:00FIVE DAYS OF DRAGON INTERVIEWS, DAY 1 - A DRAGON REFLECTION BY KATIE SALIDAS!<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Hello Eager Readers! For the next five days, I'll be sharing a post a day written by one of the authors featured in the PLAGUE OF DRAGONS anthology (Now Available!). Today we're going to start with the fabulous KATIE SALIDAS and some thoughts regarding dragons ;). </span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Plague-Dragons-Dragon-Anthology-ebook/dp/B06WGNTYVF" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtXjQbMkLt6X7do-pJ8INSyFB0HcN_ox1Ecw9WxJ0xw61JapBcLJbUCIiXuKESq5Qj5mUUaTfnbfPzjMcNmOyVtlQjWV07MkPRgYfU4OSVQRP0qKqkdipYnl9Rw4Y_BN1xVc9PN3ZTYS8/s400/IMageforBlog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s talk dragons, shall we? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why don’t we see many dragons flying around or burning
down cities? Probably because they, just like us, have had to grow and adapt
with time. Rise beyond the firebreathing image to something a bit more… </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe dragons exist and we just don’t know it. And that
is the kind of thinking that led me to dragons as shifters in the story, Molten
Heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dragons belong just as much to the human world as we do.
And really, calling it the human world might piss them off, because they think
we’re a bit irresponsible with the world we’ve taken over. So let’s maybe just
stick to calling it earth. It will make life easier on us all. Trust me. Most
dragons are good, but piss off the wrong one….</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway. Back on point. Dragons could possibly be the very
first breed of shifters. Over time as they grew and adapted with time, maybe
they learned how to change forms. All creatures on earth have had to grow and
adapt over the years or risk extinction. And though dragons might seem like the
king of beasts, there is a greater beast on this earth that strikes fear into
the hearts and minds of all creatures who share this planet… man!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Was that too preachy? Sorry. Moving on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That leads us to the question of their (the dragons)
nature. Are they beasts? Are they thinking and feeling beings. And if the
answer to both of those questions is, yes. What is dominant in them and how
does it work when they shift between forms?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I’d have to answer
that with turning it back around on humanity. We’re thinking and feeling beings
who act absolutely beastly without shifting into a twenty-foot tall
firebreathing creature, so why would a dragon who has the ability to swap forms
be any different? In both their impressive drake form and in their tiny (by
comparison) human form, the character is the same. Their minds stay intact as
well as their ability to reason and understand their surroundings. It is merely
their appearance, and fire-proofing, that alters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why do they change then, you might ask? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, who doesn’t want to be able to take to the sky?
Admit it, if you could sprout wings, you would. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As far as my dragons are concerned, their drake form is
their natural form. They take on the human guise to keep their truth secret
from the savage humans who rape and pillage the earth they live on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Humans are a pretty damn scary race! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, that might be giving too much away. Let’s chat about
more fun dragon facts, like what they eat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My Dragons are actually omnivores (because of their dual
forms) but because of their massive size need more protein than their human
counterparts. That of course leads to quite a bit of meat consumption. They’ll
eat pretty much anything that moves. Sheep, cow, pig, etc… Fish too, for the water
variety (the hydras). And when you have a colony of dragons around, there had
better be quite a bit of available food. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How much do they eat? Well, that’s a great question. On
the island they live on herd of wild sheep and ponies are pretty prevalent so
that is the natural meal of choice for a dragon on the hunt. Bunny en flambé
though is a favorite snack. Food is energy for the dragons, not an indulgence.
Participating in the circle of life (cue the Lion King music), means that the
dragons only take what they need when they need it. Could a dragon glutton
himself on six or seven fully grown mountain goats with a side of squirrel
every day? Of course they <i>could</i>. But
eventually overhunting leads to extinction, and they know that. They are
thinking and feeling creatures, remember. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On average, a male drake will sustain themselves on one
meal a day consisting of two to three large prey animals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know what you’re saying. Dragons are fantasy creatures.
They cannot exist in nature. Why are you spending so much time pretending that
they’re real? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That’s my job. As the author I have think of all the
little details and physical attributes necessary to validate my dragons. Even
if all of these details do not end up in the final story, the world and
character building has to be there first. Laying the foundations so that I can
tell you a believable story. Do I think dragons exist? Doesn’t matter. But if
for one second, just one, I can make you suspend your belief, then I have done
my job! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hope you enjoy reading <i>Molten Heart</i>!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">* * *</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Thank you for the guest post, Katie! You can find out more about Katie Salidas on her website: <a href="http://www.katiesalidas.com/" target="_blank">http://www.katiesalidas.com/</a></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-4655545269599336542017-03-24T09:45:00.000-07:002017-03-24T10:55:43.663-07:00A Plague of Dragons is Almost Here!<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;">Hello Readers!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We are now only one week away from the release of A Plague of Dragons! I'm so excited to be part of this anthology project with my five other, immensely talented writing buddies (Michael K. Rose, Katie Salidas, David Jones, Alexia Purdy, and Jason LaVelle). There will be plenty of online events and what not in the coming days and weeks, so be sure to keep a look out for those over on my Facebook page. Also, in case you haven't heard already, five of us authors will be present at Phoenix Comicon this year with copies of A Plague of Dragons as well as all our other books, so I hope to see you there as well.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;">If you receive my newsletter, then you got an early, sneak peek at Chapter One of Flame and Form, and if you like my Facebook page, then you've seen the snippets I've been posting once a week. Since the release date is just around the corner, I'm posting the first chapter right here (plus a little bit more from Chapter Two ;)), for you to enjoy as you await the main release. Happy reading and don't forget! You can still pre-order your copy today.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;">- Jenna</span><br />
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-plague-of-dragons-jason-lavelle/1125791730" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/plague-dragons-dragon-anthology/id1206143479?mt=11" target="_blank">iTunes</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-plague-of-dragons-a-dragon-anthology" target="_blank">Kobo</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/703586" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Add <i>A Plague of Dragon</i>s to your Goodreads reading list!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34230522-a-plague-of-dragons?from_search=true" target="_blank"><i>A Plague of Dragons</i> on Goodreads</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">AND NOW, A SNEAK PEEK AT <i>FLAME AND FORM - A NOVELLA OF THE OTHERWORLD</i> ...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Chapter One</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne drained the last, bitter remnants from her tankard and set the empty vessel down before her. The tavern was crowded with raucous locals, farmers by the most part, enjoying a drink to celebrate the final days of their harvest. Late afternoon light worked its way through the two dirty windows facing the street. A small fire in the hearth, a few lit candles scattered on scarred tables and a half dozen cracked, sooty lanterns hanging along the walls merely enhanced the shadows rather than driving them away. The perfect setting for those trying to blend in.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite her relative certainty she would not be noticed, Brienne pulled the hood of her thick cloak farther down her face, not wanting to give away her gender. She wasn’t particularly afraid of any of these men, and her skill with a blade, be it sword or knife, would surely protect her against those used to swinging a scythe or pushing a plow. But she didn’t need the extra attention and could do with an evening of rest. Besides, she hoped to rent a room in this very tavern tonight, for clouds carrying early snow swelled on the horizon, and she was tired of camping beneath trees whose leaves had all but fallen for the fast-approaching winter.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Another ale for you, sir?” a serving maid asked.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brie smiled beneath her hood, shaking her head in refusal.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The young woman gave a slight duck of her chin and took the empty cup away, sweeping up the coins Brienne had dropped on the counter. Once the tavern worker disappeared back into the kitchen, Brienne stood. She was tall, even for one of the Faelorehn, so it was easy for others to think her a man. If she kept her hair and face hidden, at least. An easy enough task. The tavern keeper was wiping down the long counter, so Brie headed in that direction, wondering whether or not she should try to pitch her voice low and keep up the facade of being male. She never got the opportunity, however. Before she could even take one step, the front door banged open, and a young man came tumbling in, his trousers caked with mud up to his knees, his shirt and vest torn. He took several gasping breaths as the patrons stared silently at this unexpected intrusion.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Dr-Draghan!” he rasped, throwing his arm out behind him.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sudden hush grew even more profound, just before the tavern burst into shouts and bodies scrambling to flood out into the street. Brienne stayed exactly where she was, not moving an inch until the entire place had emptied. Even then, she took a few moments to gather her bearings before joining the rest of the villagers out in the square.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Had the young man really said <i>draghan</i>? What in the name of the gods and goddesses was a draghan doing in Eile? From what she understood of such creatures, which she would admit was very little, was that they didn’t possess the mental capacity to figure out how to pass through a dolmarehn to sneak into her world. Perhaps it was some other large beast the youth had mistaken for a draghan. Or worse yet, one of the Morrigan’s dreaded faelah.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not wanting her mind to go in that direction, Brienne cast another look at the open door and worried her lower lip between her teeth. She should stay in the tavern, but curiosity was gnawing at her and not joining the rest of the crowd would seem suspicious. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the door and ducked out into the late afternoon light. The townsfolk, many more than the number which had occupied the tavern, stood in a large crowd, their gazes fixed on the road leading south from the village.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I see them now!” the same young man from before shouted. “They’re coming over the rise!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">People jostled to get a better view, not taking care to avoid the mud puddles. A large wagon, most likely meant to transport hay, creaked down the rutted road and came to a stop in the wide town center. The villagers had moved just enough out of the way to let the driver and his team of draft horses pass, their eyes and attention fixed on the large creature tied down with chains in the back.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brie caught her breath as gasps and small screams skittered about the crowd. It was a draghan. One of the legendary winged, fire-breathing reptiles from Firiehn. Not for the first time in her life, Brienne’s extra height gave her an advantage. She did not have to shove people aside or stand on her toes to see the monster, so she could study it from a safe distance. The beast was black as soot, but sparked with undertones of bronze where the torchlight played against its scales. About the size of the draft horses pulling the cart, Brienne was surprised the wheels hadn’t splintered beneath its weight. A triangular head decked in a crown of dark horns rested against powerful forearms ending in claws of a similar color. She couldn’t get a good look at its wings, for they were folded close to the monster’s body, held in place by the chains, its tail similarly curled and held close. Instinct told her the creature was injured, perhaps badly. Its eyes were shut, and its breathing was labored. She would bet all the money she carried with her the chains were not even necessary to keep it in place.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The voices of the crowd started to rise again, but before the men could even begin their inevitable demand that the creature be destroyed, she knew where this situation was headed. If they didn’t kill it outright, it would be sent to the Morrigan as tribute. That’s how things were done in and along the fringes of the war goddess’ territory. And this creature would keep her pacified for a very long time. Pity crashed into Brienne’s heart like a blacksmith’s hammer striking hot iron. She had been born into her servitude; had never known freedom but craved it with every fiber of her being. This draghan, by its very nature, was a wild creature never meant to be enslaved. If it became the property of the Morrigan, its spirit would be crushed.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of the bystanders, a hunter or warrior from what Brienne could tell by his height and build, lifted a huge battle axe and roared above all the chatter, “Kill it before it regains its strength and flames us all!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“No! Let us release it and make sport of it!” another interjected. “We managed to muzzle it with chains, and it is injured. The beast will not make it far. The man or woman to bring it down can have the head and hide!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Don’t be absurd!” one of the women cried. “Bring it to the Morrigan! If she discovers we had such a treasure and just wasted it, she will force us all into her army. Or worse, extract our glamour and discard us like husks.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That set the crowd into a chorus of nervous rumbling, everyone shouting their own chosen demise for the draghan, each suggestion worse than the one before.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne had seen enough suffering, enough death. She had been with the Morrigan long enough to know that people, and creatures, were not always what they seemed. Villains might be draped in expensive silks with alabaster skin and music in their voices. And those who wished to help you, or those simply wanting to protect the ones they loved, might appear on the outside as monsters.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She shot her gaze back toward the draghan and jumped in surprise to find its eyes had opened. The one she could see was a molten gold color, bright with intelligence and what might have been rage. But there was also a spark of fear there. Brienne narrowed her own eyes, holding the draghan’s regard a bit longer, and let her glamour feather outward. Her magic wasn’t as impressive as most in the Morrigan’s army, but she could sometimes filter out emotions. Anger, resentment, pride ... and hopelessness. It was that final bitter feeling, one she was so very familiar with, that snapped her into action.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“So much for keeping a low profile,” she muttered as she stepped forward, her right hand going for the pommel of the sword hanging at her side.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The mood of the crowd had shifted while she’d been considering the draghan. Apparently, a decision had been made, and that decision involved delivering the beast to the Tuatha De Danann goddess who terrorized their lands.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“But who will take it to the Morrigan? We are all busy with the harvest!” one man managed to shout over the general clamor.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I cannot go, my children are sick!” a woman put in.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One by one, the villagers cried out with some excuse or another, age-old terror coloring their words. They feared the goddess who watched over their territory, but they feared her wrath more.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brie wrapped her fingers around the grip of her sword and drew it in a long, dramatic arc that was more for show than anything else. The people closest to her shouted in surprise and jumped back, knocking into those standing beside them.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I will take the creature!” she cried out above the noise. “I will deliver this draghan to the Morrigan.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The conversation ceased as every pair of eyes in the village square turned to study this cloaked stranger. Brienne kept her hood up. If she could manage getting away without leaving them with a face to remember, she would be grateful.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Why should we believe you?” one of the men asked. He had been the one to drive the wagon into town. “How do we know you do not wish to take it into the next town to demand a bounty?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shouts of ascent skittered through the crowd.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For a small moment, Brienne hesitated. What was she doing? Did she really want to risk leaving these people with a memory they could easily report to any of the Morrigan’s henchmen should they come searching for her? She loosened the iron grip she held on her sword, letting the tip sink further to the ground. Before she sheathed the weapon she glanced at the draghan once more. It was watching her, those ember-hued eyes wary and almost desperate.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brie, you know more than anyone what it is to be enslaved. Can you really go on living with yourself if you allow it to happen to another creature, when you had the chance to stop it?</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. She could convince them she meant what she said, that she’d bring this creature to the Morrigan. It meant they would remember her if her enemies came questioning, but she would just have to take that risk.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Here goes,” she hissed to herself, as she reached up and pulled back her hood.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The crowd gasped, several people in front of her taking a step back.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You should believe me,” she said softly, her pale blue eyes surveying the crowd, “because I am bound in service to the goddess of war.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The woman closest to the cart lifted a hand, as if to run it over the side of her face, then snatched it away. Brienne fought the urge to do the same. She was used to the stares and looks of pity. The questions were always in the eyes of those who saw her ravaged face, though. Had the scars come from a wild animal? A horrific fire? Had her husband or lover taken his anger out on her and burned her face with a torch? No. The truth wasn’t as noble as any of that. She had refused a direct order from the Morrigan, and she had been thrown into the fire as punishment. Somehow, she had rolled out with damage done to only one side of her body, a few of the faelah in the camp adding a few more ugly marks by raking their claws at her as she rolled to put the flames out. That had been two years ago, but the agony still felt fresh.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Dear gods . . .” one of the men murmured, pulling his young sons close and backing away.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“If this is not enough to convince you,” she added, gesturing to her damaged skin, “there is also this.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She flung her cloak free of her left shoulder and reached up to pull her collar down, just enough to reveal the top of a disc-shaped tattoo staining the pale skin between her breast and collar bone.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">More gasps from the crowd.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Morrigan’s get!” an old woman hissed.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Faeduihn!” another added.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne shot her pale eyes in the direction of that accusation. Her soul may have been stained because of her association with the goddess of wrath and ruin, but she knew the dark glamour had not infected her yet. She didn’t correct them, however. If she could get them to fear her, or at least believe her claims, the better her chances of escaping with the injured draghan.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“As you have said, my mistress desires creatures such as this. I will take it off your hands, so that you might get back to your own work.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After a long moment of near silence, and a few quietly exchanged words between them, the cart driver said, “Very well. But we want this thing out of here tonight.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne fought the urge to release a heavy sigh. Instead, she nodded once.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I can leave right now.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Chapter Two</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne drove the draft horses a mile or so south of town. Her own horse, the one she had stolen from camp when she’d made her escape a week before, secured to the back of the cart. When they came to a crossroads she turned them left, choosing a path that would eventually take them back into the northern mountains, but hopefully, clear of any curious villagers or spies of the Morrigan. The sun had set, and they had maybe a half an hour before full dark settled in. She didn’t like the idea of making camp so close to the village, but they really had no choice.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Movement to her right caught Brie’s attention. A large white wolf with a ruddy tail and ears darted in and out of the scraggly wood before approaching them. The horses, already on edge because of the cargo they carried, snorted and pulled at their harnesses. Brienne only grinned.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Scout out a safe, secluded place to settle in for the night if you can, Mynne</i>, she sent to her spirit guide.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The wolf cocked her head to the side, a habit she had picked up since losing both her eyes to the Morrigan’s soldiers. It had been part of Brienne’s punishment, a wound which had hurt her more than the burns had. In the end, Brie could harbor some gratitude, however. At least they hadn’t killed Mynne.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I believe there is a meadow of sorts up ahead, the wolf sent back through their mind connection. A place travelers often use for resting. It is surrounded by thick trees and a few standing stones. No one should bother us this night.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Within fifteen minutes, the team of horses had moved the hay cart clear of the road and into the shallow hollow of the small meadow. Brienne pulled on the reins and pushed the brake lever forward before hopping down to survey the area. It was wide, but mostly flat and protected by trees and stones on three sides. So long as no one happened by them in the night, they should have nothing to fear.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne glanced up at the sky, wondering if those clouds would shed freezing rain or snow. Or perhaps nothing at all.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Best get this fire started then, if you wish for it to burn through the night</i>, Mynne sent.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne pursed her lips, then turned to eye the hay cart. She had been avoiding checking on the draghan. The beast had been so silent and motionless during their time spent on the road. She feared it had either died or was readying itself for an attack. Now that there was only one Faelorehn woman to challenge it, she wouldn’t be surprised if the creature sprang suddenly to life, spewing fire and swiping deadly claws. The very thought sent shivers of bone-melting dread through Brienne. Fire was a necessity of life, but ever since almost dying by it she had harbored some anxiety whenever it came time to kindle a flame, whether it be to light a candlewick or start a bonfire. Nevertheless, she would accomplish this task just as she had every night since her escape. After observing the draghan for several minutes, Brie concluded the creature was of no immediate threat. In fact, the cold weather was probably affecting it more than anything else.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne spent ten minutes gathering what firewood she could find, grumbling over the fact that most of it was soaked through from a recent rainstorm. After several attempts with her flint and knife, she couldn’t get the damp leaves and twigs to catch, so she rummaged in her saddlebags for a section of old cloth, hoping it might work better as kindling. The dry wool and linen caught, but the green wood stubbornly resisted the licking flames.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Cursed spirits!” she hissed, balling her half-frozen fingers into fists. “Mynne, I might need you to sleep close tonight and hope the clouds don’t drop ice upon us.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The white wolf sniffed and inclined her head. <i>Of course. It might be better not to have a fire anyway.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne couldn’t argue with that. If the Morrigan’s generals considered her valuable enough to track down, then a fire would only draw attention to their location. She rocked back into a half crouch, one knee pressed into the damp earth, her elbow resting on the other, and peered back at the draghan.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I am sorry we don’t have better cover, or a source of heat,” she said, regret tainting her words.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She only hoped the creature could withstand the chill. Or maybe it would succumb. That might actually be a sort of mercy. She hadn’t been able to get a good look at the beast’s wounds, but she didn’t doubt their existence. Perhaps even infection had settled in and that was why the draghan hadn’t moved.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As if in open defiance of those very thoughts, the monster decided at that moment to emerge from its delirium just long enough to crack open one eyelid. The iris melted into molten scarlet rimmed with deep red and focused in on her, the full attention of the draghan sending a nervous twinge through Brie’s body. The creature slowly lifted its head.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne stepped back, afraid she had offended the beast in some manner. Had it heard her internal musings? Had she angered it? She held up her palms as it narrowed both eyes in her direction. The draghan drew in a deep breath and exhaled, a stream of heat and flame the color of a distant, pale blue star careened toward her. Brienne gasped and leapt aside, old, instinctual fear pumping adrenaline through her blood. The stream of fire slammed into her pathetic pile of wood with a hissing crackle of sound. The draghan kept up the jet until the once damp pile of logs and branches danced with orange and yellow flames.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With an exhausted huff, the creature let its head drop back against the cart bed, the chains weighing it down clanking ominously.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne blinked, shocked at what had just occurred, her chest rising and falling as she tried to subdue her panic. She eyed the fire, the wood no longer smoking.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mynne trotted up beside her, almost making her jump out of her skin.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Looks like you won’t freeze to death after all.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne nodded out of habit, then returned her pale gaze to the draghan. The beast was utterly still, its eyes closed in pain once more. Only the tiny rise and fall of its flank told her the creature lived. When it first lifted its head and spit fire in her direction, Brienne had thought the draghan meant to turn her to ash. But that had not been the creature’s intent at all. Now it lie still, the cold of the night even more oppressive now that she had the heat of the fire to warm her numb fingers.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“But I fear the draghan will,” she murmured, in response to Mynne’s comment.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>That can’t be helped</i>, Mynne offered. <i>You’ve done what you can for the monster. Removing it from the clutches of the Morrigan was the best thing you could ever have done for it, even if it should now perish.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her spirit guide was probably right, but guilt ate away at her anyway. The draghan had clearly used up what little energy it had left to help her. There had to be something else she could do.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne glanced around the clearing, now barely able to make any colors out in the dark. But she knew exactly where the fallen trees had been on her earlier hunt for firewood. She went back to her horse, now secured to a tree far away from the draghan, and pulled out her small axe.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>What are you doing?</i> Mynne questioned, her head tilted to the side as she tried to listen to Brienne’s movements.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m going to try to help,” was her response.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Two hours later, Brie had managed to build a moat of larger logs around the wagon. The draft horses, still in their harnesses, had been secured to a massive oak near her own horse. She checked her ring of firewood, adjusting it so that it would be as close to the cart as possible without the risk of setting it on fire. She had taken some of the burning branches from the draghan’s fire and managed to get a few places smoldering. By the time her own exhaustion knocked her off her feet, a ring of flames encircled the trapped beast.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m sorry I cannot do more for you tonight,” she said to the creature, “but I hope the fire takes off some of the chill. Tomorrow, I will see what I can do about the chains. I simply do not have the energy or the strength now.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that was the truth. Her fingers and toes were like icicles and spots swam before her eyes.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In response to her voice, the draghan opened one of its eyes again, a dark, slitted pupil rotating in her direction.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne tried a smile, but her lips felt numb.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Until the morning, then,” she promised, collapsing onto the sleeping roll she’d tucked beneath the wagon.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite her apprehension about being surrounded by flames, Brie settled down quickly, her exhaustion stronger than her unease. Besides, the logs were already burning down to hot coals, and soon, they would simply radiate heat until going out completely in a few hours’ time.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mynne joined her after giving the draghan a suspicious glare, curling up beside her familiar within the wall of smoldering coals.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brienne welcomed the familiar warmth of her spirit guide, her only source of comfort in a world that had so far offered her only cruelty.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As she waited for sleep, she thought of the draghan again and how it watched her with those smoldering citrine eyes. Of the way it had used its strange and potent flames to start a fire she could not. The creature was a stranger in this world, and clearly, it had been treated badly. As far as the draghan knew, she could be just as terrible as those who had chained it to a wagon to offer up as a sacrifice, yet, it had helped her just now. Brienne set her jaw, thinking of the men and women under the Morrigan’s control who had used and abused her.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I won’t let that be your fate</i>, she vowed. <i>If you survive this night, I will find a way to return you to your home.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* * *</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">THANK YOU FOR READING!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>Flame and Form</i> will be available on March 31st in the <i>Plague of Dragons</i> anthology. <i>Flame and Form</i> is intended for a mature reading audience (age 18 and up) and is a complete novella at 33,000 words (for reference, novels are a length of 50,000 words or more).</span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-14252068594258189552017-02-15T17:43:00.001-08:002017-02-15T17:43:53.423-08:00<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">LIVING LIFE AUTHORLY</span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">No. 3</span></h2>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hello Readers! Here is the third edition of my <i>Living Life Authorly</i> reflection. In this piece, I talk about what you, the reader, can do to help your favorite authors and their books find success. Readers play a very important role in the life of a book and its creator, especially for us indie authors. If you've always wondered how you can take an active part in making a book more popular, read on! And as always, happy reading and writing ;)!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- J.E. Johnson</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5vHyxVbP-tHNAKG-sB_uTF6ULFo_0dmQAEBhLxdmLSSXCMtSP7JbghzKAg8D1kXcdySM6kX3Qf9s69MrnHEJnAjDSC7xyWKGLORkiDURnw9souMg0gkd5vRMD96Lx4BD0x5A6Dlei1c/s1600/MyWork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5vHyxVbP-tHNAKG-sB_uTF6ULFo_0dmQAEBhLxdmLSSXCMtSP7JbghzKAg8D1kXcdySM6kX3Qf9s69MrnHEJnAjDSC7xyWKGLORkiDURnw9souMg0gkd5vRMD96Lx4BD0x5A6Dlei1c/s320/MyWork.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>The Care and Feeding of your Favorite Authors</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the most part, authors are strange, reclusive creatures by nature. We lock ourselves away in our writing caves and glare through the blinds should a neighbor dare to mow the lawn whilst we are trying to concentrate on a scene. We thrive on caffeine, chocolate and the perfect soundtrack for our writing time. During the day when we must skip off to our day jobs (yes, most of us need day jobs in order to stay afloat), we do our best to pretend to be normal. Fortunately, we can pull this off because we know about characters and how play the part. In a nutshell, we are odd creatures who live to tell you a story and I'm going to go out on a limb and claim that 100% of us dream of the day we can do this book writing thing full time. Unfortunately, it is very difficult for authors (especially the many of us who are independently published) to make a mark in the world of literature. Even with a great story, wonderful editing, superb formatting and a gorgeous book cover, it can be difficult to get our books seen if we don't have the money for marketing.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know, that's a lot to take in and all you probably want to do is read our books and not worry about the business end of things (and believe me, most of us authors are in the same boat - we just want to write those books for you and not have to worry about marketing and getting the word out). But, for those of you who would like to help, there are ways to do so without spending a dime. In this edition of Living Life Authorly, I am going to focus on two ways you, as a reader, can help out your favorite authors.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1.) WRITE A REVIEW</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's say you've read a new book by a new author and you really liked it. You know purchasing their next book is the best way to keep supporting them (more book sales = more royalties = author getting closer to their dream of writing full time), but you can't afford to get their next book just yet. Don't fret. Writing a review is just as important, if not more so, as purchasing their next books. By writing a review, you are telling other potential readers that this book, this author, is worth checking out. It's free and doesn't have to take a lot of your time.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you want to keep it simple, ask yourself these two questions: 1.) Did you enjoy the book? 2.) Would you recommend it to others?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Your review does not have to be spectacular. It can be one sentence long, or several. And writing a review does not have to take more than a few minutes to complete, and those few minutes can really help a book's visibility. I've read a few articles stating that once a book receives 50 or more reviews on Amazon.com, it starts getting more exposure. So the more reviews, the better.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Short reviews are great, but if you really want to expand on your review, I always follow this outline: 1.) In one to three sentences, what was the book about? 2.) What did you like/what did the author do well? 3.) What did you dislike/what could the author have done better? More detailed reviews tend to be more helpful and helpful reviews are even more appreciated by potential readers.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whether or not you write a quick or detailed review is entirely up to you and what you feel comfortable with. Like I said above, ANY review is appreciated (even the negative ones :)). The fact that you took the time to give feedback tells me the story had some impact on you and that alone is a great encouragement.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another thing to consider is if you have accounts on multiple sites where books are sold/discussed, you can post the same review in all those places. If you purchased your book on Amazon, you can leave your review there as well as Barnes and Noble, iTunes, Kobo, Smashwords, Google Play and Goodreads. You can also rate the book on Wattpad if you are a member on that site as well. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2.) SPREAD THE WORD</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you discover a new book, share that news with your friends. Tell them why you liked it, let them know it would be perfect for their son/daughter/niece/nephew/cousin/aunt/uncle. Inform them their next book boyfriend lives in that book and, OMG, they just HAVE to read about him! . . . You get the picture ;).</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You can tell your friends in person when you meet up for your weekly coffee date. Suggest it as the next book to read in your book club. Donate the book to your local library when you've finished reading it or give it to someone on the subway or the bus who looks like they might enjoy it. There are so many ways you can help spread the word about a book.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another easy way to help share the love is, if you follow your authors on social media, share their links and posts. On your own wall, on a Book Lovers' page, by tagging a friend who might find the book interesting ... Pin their book cover art to your Pinterest page or share images of places and things that remind you of the book or series.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Of course, I'm sure there are many other ways you can help your favorite authors, but hopefully these are some good places to start. Before I sign off, I want to express how much I already appreciate you all and everything you do to help me and my other author friends become the best writers we can be. When you believe in our stories and characters as much as we do, it gives us even more purpose and drive to finish that next book or to begin a new one. To not give up on that dream we can see so clearly in our minds. I am forever honored to have you all as members of my readership and I hope to bring you even greater stories in the future. Until next time, happy reading!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- Jenna</span>AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-82430588911900078332016-12-15T20:54:00.002-08:002017-02-15T17:40:33.327-08:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">LIVING LIFE AUTHORLY</span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No. 2</span></h2>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hello Readers! Here is the second edition of my <i>Living Life Authorly</i> reflection. In this piece, I talk a little bit about being a fledgling author and my own process when it comes to writing my books and novels. I hope you can find something encouraging (and useful) from my words below, whether you are new to this whole writing thing or just looking for a fresh take on something familiar. As always, happy reading and writing!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
- J.E. Johnson</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5vHyxVbP-tHNAKG-sB_uTF6ULFo_0dmQAEBhLxdmLSSXCMtSP7JbghzKAg8D1kXcdySM6kX3Qf9s69MrnHEJnAjDSC7xyWKGLORkiDURnw9souMg0gkd5vRMD96Lx4BD0x5A6Dlei1c/s1600/MyWork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5vHyxVbP-tHNAKG-sB_uTF6ULFo_0dmQAEBhLxdmLSSXCMtSP7JbghzKAg8D1kXcdySM6kX3Qf9s69MrnHEJnAjDSC7xyWKGLORkiDURnw9souMg0gkd5vRMD96Lx4BD0x5A6Dlei1c/s400/MyWork.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>The First Novel is the Hardest . . . </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In late summer, early fall of 2005 I officially embarked upon my writing career. I was eager, passionate and determined to get my story out and to make it the best I could. I also had no idea what I was getting into. For four years, I worked diligently on The Legend of Oescienne. I made revisions, I changed out words, I built up the world and I sent out query letters. At some point in time someone informed me the book was too long, so I cut off a large chunk at the end (that would later become the first chapters of The Beginning - Book Two), and kept on revising and revising and revising . . .</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What is the point of telling you all of this? Am I trying to discourage you (Honestly, who am I to discourage anyone from following their dreams)? Boast about my unfaltering dedication (Ha! If only you knew how many times I just wanted to throw it all aside and save myself the heartache)? Inform you that writing a book takes a massive amount of time and effort (Which would be silly because you all know that already anyway ;))?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">No. The point of this edition of Living Life Authorly is to encourage you and let those of you who are beginning authors know that there is no perfect formula to writing your novel. Sure, there are formulaic ways to pen a novel that will be absorbed by your audience, but that's not what I'm trying to do here, either. I simply want to point out that if you are working on your first novel, and you find yourself struggling or taking FOREVER to finish it, do not despair - we all go through that first novel workout.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, here is some advice to help you wake up the next morning, or week, or year after beginning your new writing regiment without a sore brain . . .</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1.) There are no rules to writing a book. No, seriously, there aren't. There are rules of grammar and the English language you learn in school (and that knowledge base is really important and comes in handy), but the beauty of novel writing is that it is CREATIVE writing. You don't have to pen a perfect sentence and you can even bend those grammar rules I mentioned above. Write what feels right to you and take the criticism with a grain of salt.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2.) There is no hurry. Yes, we all want to get that book done and into the hands of our readers and oftentimes by the time we are close to the end, we are sick of it and just want to be done. That's normal for many writers, but don't let it loose into the world before it's ready. Set it aside and work on something else. Take a break and go on a reading binge. I can usually tell when a story is ready. I can't really describe it, but it is just my author's intuition letting me know that yes, this book is ready for the world. Sometimes, when I think a book is ready, that same sixth sense digs at me like a splinter, refusing to leave me alone. Then the next day, or the next week, a plot twist or some missing information I didn't realize was missing will work its way into the story and make it better than it was. Listen to your intuition and trust your gut.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">3.) You don't have to write your story in chronological order. I don't, and that is not how the story comes to me. My Muse often sends me scenes of a story that are out of order. What I do and what I have done from the beginning is write down each scene or plot twist or setting description as it comes to me, then I fill in the gaps later on. Think of it like putting together a jigsaw puzzle - piece by piece, sometimes filling out the edges and then finishing up the middle - a sporadic process but effective nonetheless. If I try to write a book in chronological order, I get stuck trying to get past a plot gap and waste time doing so. I find it more time efficient if I write the parts of my story as they come to me. However, if you work better writing your story from beginning to end, then go for it. My point is, everyone has their own style and method. Don't be overwhelmed or feel like a fraud if you find other well-established authors swearing by a method that doesn't match your own.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And here we are, at the end of this edition of Living Life Authorly. I have tried to give you sound and helpful advice this time around, but I want you all to remember it is just that - advice. Perhaps you find what I have shared helpful, perhaps you don't. My purpose in writing about the first novel being the most difficult to finish is to remind you that learning the art of writing through the process of writing is both challenging and important. It would be far easier to sit down with a pro and have them walk you through the entire writing process, but if you relied 100% on a mentor, what will happen when you are ready to write your next novel? I spent a great deal of time checking out forums and asking questions of those who were far more experienced than me, and I wouldn't discourage any of you from doing so. What I do want to encourage you to do, however, is to embrace this first struggle and to learn from it. When you take the time to hone your craft, it becomes something special and it will help you find your own unique voice as a writer. Never give up on that end goal: a complete novel, and don't rely too much on the experts. Follow your instincts, take advice with a grain of salt, and most importantly, sit down and get that story out!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- Jenna</span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-34550277327817196522016-10-15T09:00:00.000-07:002016-10-15T20:08:43.173-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">LIVING LIFE AUTHORLY</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">No. 1</span></h2>
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Hello Readers! It's been ages since I updated my blog, but I'm hoping to start sharing this feature from my Author's Newsletter. My writing schedule and this autumn's author tour schedule has sucked up most of my time, so I have less of that to dedicate to any side projects (including blog posts :P). <i>Living Life Authorly</i>, however, is a project I hope to share every other month through my newsletter, and the following months here on my webpage. With this particular feature, I will attempt to write a reflection that is both informative and inspiring. I hope to discuss my journey as an aspiring author, as well as offer some advice to those just starting out or those thinking of taking on the great and worthy quest of writing their own stories, big or small. Furthermore, I plan to occasionally include some tips and advice with regards to building your brand as an author. Hopefully you'll find some encouragement and inspiration from my words.<br />
- J.E. Johnson<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It Started as an Art Assignment . . . </i></span><br />
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<i>The Legend of Oescienne </i>began in a sketchbook, a simple artist’s sketchbook which ended up more full of character and creature ideas, and even a few lines of text regarding these beings and their world, than the mundane, daily objects and situations I was, as an art student, supposed to be filling the pages with. All the while I was happily doodling away, I was oblivious to the significance of these things until one day the realization hit me like a spark of lightning crackling through my mind (Robyn might be able to relate to this one ;)): I needed to write this story down or no one would ever get a chance to read it.<br />
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It was in that moment, in the living room of my apartment, that I realized I wanted to be an author. I was twenty-four years old and despite having attended college for the past handful of years, I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. Perhaps it was Fate, then, trying to tell me at that early stage, that patience would be a virtue I should learn to respect and welcome.<br />
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I moved back home after graduating with a big idea, the determination to meet a challenge I’d never faced before and a strong belief in what I had to say (what my Muse had been stirring up in my mind for goodness knows how long and what I was terrified of beginning) would be worth all the time and effort I knew it would take.<br />
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The months passed by and the words started to fill up a once blank word document. Back in those early days, I was still thinking in terms of page count and not word count. I kept this endeavor a secret, even from my family. Only after I had completed fifty pages did I work up the gumption to tell them, with my heart in my throat, what I was doing locked away in my room. To me, meeting that fifty page milestone meant I was really going to do this - I was going to write a book.<br />
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After that fateful day when I made my big reveal, a weight seemed to be lifted. I had admitted I was embarking upon a perilous journey and my family had not disowned me. Now, I could really dig in. I tweaked the plot when it wasn’t working out, I printed out hard copies of the manuscript and attacked it with a red pen. During my lunch breaks at my then current job of working in a pet store, I would pull out a small, beat-up notebook and jot down my ideas. For four years I chipped away at this big idea until a cohesive story began to form. I attended writers’ conferences and took a few creative writing seminars at the local community college. Online I discovered support groups and forums for those of us aspiring authors who were spilling upon the Great Plain of the independent publishing world. I made plenty of mistakes along the way and faced down my daily frustrations, but I persevered. <br />
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I don’t consider myself a very patient person (I decided to self-publish after just ten rejection letters), but somehow I managed to find some modicum of patience for this. Or perhaps I just didn’t give up on it. I had been raised always to stick out a commitment, but this was something different. Writing was my calling. Finally, I had found my niche in life. Despite the long hours and rejection and negative reviews and scant income, I have stuck with it. I’m in for the long haul because I know, even if the next bright idea isn’t quite hatched yet, I understand it’s just around the corner. Time and time again I have stared at my computer screen, frustrated that the story just isn’t flowing at the speed I’d like it to, only to realize a few days (or weeks or months) later, after just leaving it be, it unfurls before me. Even now, as I'm going through another period of Author's Frustration with Life and the Unknown, I have faith that it will pass and the stories will eventually burst forth.<br />
<br />
For those of you just starting out - the ones with that spark of an idea that has not yet grown, and for those of you who have been at this game for a while, know that inspiration can come at any moment, and most often does when you least expect it. As much work as it takes to form that spark into something tangible, sometimes it’s waiting for that initial flicker to push itself to the surface that is the hard part. Writing a book can be tedious, time-consuming and frustrating, but it is something we can do if we put ourselves in front of that computer screen and work at it. When you can admit that to yourself and when you can make peace with the fact that not everything will fall into place just as you wish it, you have taken that next step in not just becoming, but being the author you have always wanted to be. Carry on, my fellow scribes, and don’t fret over those moments where you don’t have the answers. It will get better and you will rejoice when everything falls into place.<br />
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- JennaAuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-35750993699766024712016-05-25T20:39:00.000-07:002016-05-25T20:39:02.758-07:00Brand New Releases for Both Otherworld and Oescienne Fans!<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">READ A NEW SHORT STORY IN THE OTHERWORLD SERIES!</span></h2>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>FAESCORNED - A TALE OF THE OTHERWORLD</i></span></h3>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Available EXCLUSIVELY in the <i>ONCE UPON A CURSE </i>Anthology! Only $0.99 where ebooks are sold!!</span></h4>
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<u><span style="color: #eeeeee;">FAESCORNED</span></u></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Being the Celtic goddess of war and strife isn’t a job for just anyone, but for the Morrigan, it seems like the perfect fit. She is cruel, conniving and will do anything to get her hands on the raw glamour of Eilé. Yet, like anything else in the Otherworld, not all is as it seems, and a person’s past can hold dark, terrible secrets. During a confrontation with her son, Caedehn, the Morrigan is compelled to relive a memory strong enough to rattle her and painful enough to remind her of what she can never have.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">A 6,000 word short tale told from the Morrigan’s point of view! Featured EXCLUSIVELY in the Dark Faerie Tale bundle, <i>Once Upon a Curse</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;">*****</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> PRAISE FOR <i>FAESCORNED - A TALE OF THE OTHERWORLD:</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">"Wow, I am IMPRESSED! <i>Faescorned</i> is an exhilarating read from the first page to the last. I was thrilled when I realized it takes place during one of my many favorite scenes in the Otherworld series. It not only made me homesick for the Otherworld, but the direction of the plot stunned my senses as I realized my perspective of the Otherworld is forever changed. The revelations written from the Morrigan’s POV is conflicting mentally and emotionally. <i>Faescorned</i> is a plot twist all on its own for this series and anyone who has read the Otherworld MUST READ IT!!! If you haven't read the Otherworld Series by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson then get to it! Who doesn't love castles, kilts, and magic? 5 well deserved stars!"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">- Katrina Curry of <i>Paranormal Romance Trance</i></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;">GET YOUR COPY OF <i>ONCE UPON A CURSE</i> HERE:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Once-Upon-Curse-Faerie-Tales-ebook/dp/B01G35DZAW" target="_blank">AMAZON.COM</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Once-Upon-Curse-Faerie-Tales-ebook/dp/B01G35DZAW" target="_blank">AMAZON.CO.UK</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Once-Upon-Curse-Faerie-Tales-ebook/dp/B01G35DZAW" target="_blank">AMAZON.CA</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com.au/Once-Upon-Curse-Faerie-Tales-ebook/dp/B01G35DZAW" target="_blank">AMAZON.COM.AU</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-upon-a-curse-alethea-kontis/1123845810?ean=2940158131219" target="_blank">BARNESANDNOBLE.COM</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/once-upon-a-curse/id1116826405?mt=11" target="_blank">ITUNES.COM</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/once-upon-a-curse-3" target="_blank">KOBO.COM</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Yasmine_Galenorn_Once_Upon_A_Curse?id=zYk3DAAAQBAJ&hl=en" target="_blank">GOOGLE PLAY</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">THE WAIT FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE OESCIENNE SERIES IS FINALLY OVER!</span></h2>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><i>THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE - THE ASCENDING</i> IS NOW AVAILABLE IN EBOOK AND PAPERBACK FORMAT</span></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9;">PRAISE FOR <i>THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE - THE ASCENDING:</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9;">The Plot Thickens</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #d9d2e9;">"In the quest to stop the Crimson King Jahrra, Dervit, Ellyesce, and Jaax are betrayed by a supposed ally, the great walled city falls to the Red Flange and our heroes must get the Creecemind dragons to agree to join the Coalition."</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9;">- duchesscjay, Amazon Reviewer</span></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9;">Couldn't Put it Down!</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #d9d2e9;">"The story continues with more page turning action ! Lots if twists and turns, new friends and a possible love interest... can't wait for the next book as we are getting closer to seeing the prophecy fulfilled."</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9;">- Ahtilat, Amazon Reviewer</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #d9d2e9;">"If you are looking for a series to read, this is the one!!!! I swear every book gets better and cannot wait for the next book!!!! Thanks Jenna for your series :)."</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9;">- MommaOf5Crazy, Barnes and Noble Reviewer</span></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-size: large;">GET YOUR DIGITAL COPY HERE:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-size: large;">GET YOUR PAPERBACK COPY HERE:</span></div>
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AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-32325817143741464222016-05-05T09:14:00.000-07:002016-05-05T09:14:00.924-07:00Cover Reveal and Excerpt from The Legend of Oescienne - The Ascending!<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #b4a7d6; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">COVER REVEAL AND EXCERPT FROM <i>THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE - THE ASCENDING</i>!</span></h2>
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<span style="color: #b4a7d6; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">EBOOK AVAILABLE MAY 20TH, 2016!</span></h2>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 110%;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A year has passed since the Tanaan dragon Jaax
and his human ward, Jahrra, came to live within the protected boundaries of Lidien,
the great City of Light. But even the
safest places in Ethöes can harbor enemies, and one cannot hide from one’s fate
forever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="line-height: 110%;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the onset of yet another departure, Jahrra
realizes there is more to this next step in her journey than she previously
thought. With Lidien fading in the
distance, she understands she is finally leaving behind not just her friends,
but also her childhood and a life once filled with dreams and illusions of
safety and love. The road ahead is
perilous, and Jahrra knows she will face many trials before coming to stand
before her destiny. With each passing
day, the threat of the Crimson King grows stronger, and Jaax and their allies
will need the help of the legendary Creecemind dragons if they wish to
overthrow their common enemy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 110%;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before they can present their case before the
king of the Creecemind, however, Jahrra and her Tanaan guardian must make a
perilous journey north through the mountains, where danger and uncertainty
lurks in every crevasse and behind the face of everyone they meet. Their trust in others must be bartered
carefully, for the Tyrant’s influence stretches far and wide. And even if they do reach Nimbronia, the
frozen City in the Clouds, their troubles may not be over. If the king of the ice dragons cannot be
convinced to join their cause, then their fate, and the fate of Ethöes, may
very well be sealed in sorrow and defeat.</span><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 110%;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<h4>
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<div class="ChaptersCxSpFirst">
<span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">-Prologue-</span></div>
<div class="ChaptersCxSpMiddle">
<span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The Winds of Change</span></div>
<div class="ChaptersCxSpLast" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">It is said among the ancient ones in Ethoes that the trees
know the goddess’ secrets. Toward the
clouds their branches stretch, and into the depths of the earth their roots
reach, so how can they not? They do,
however, keep these secrets close, revealing them to no one, for Ethoes
understands her creation would not be able to accept most truths. Despite their loyalty and silence, the
secrets the trees keep do not always stay with them. Where the trees guard confidences, the wind
shares them. Laughing, crying,
singing. The wind does not know the
meaning of silence. Rising from the
seas, coursing down the valleys, rolling through the grassy plains, dancing
over the dry deserts, climbing the mountain peaks. The winds of Ethoes comb through the boughs
of oak, pine, beech and fir, tickling their thoughts from their leaves and
branches, carrying them across the lands for anyone to hear, so long as they
know how to interpret the trees’ language.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">However,
the breath of the earth carries not only the secrets of Ethoes, but also bears
the voices of those holding dominion over others. For those who know how to control and
manipulate it, the winds can be very useful in conveying messages across
continents. And, depending on the time
of year, those loquacious gusts can prove useful to anyone wishing to
communicate over a vast stretch of land.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">In the Hrunahn
Mountains of the west, during the thawing weather of early spring, one is
likely to find an abundance of wind, fresh and cool and eager to spread its
gossip. And it just so happened someone <i>was</i> waiting to take advantage of its
garrulous nature …<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
wrapped his threadbare cloak closer to his body and cursed the relentless
breeze. Not only did it bite at his
exposed skin and cause his eyes to water, but it also worked to draw
information from him. Far to the east,
his Master awaited news of his exploits, and he would not be surprised if the
wind had already tattled on him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Shaking
aside his concerns, he continued his search for a small pool of water that
wasn’t frozen over. He longed to be out
of these accursed mountains, to be moving east again back to his desolate
homeland of Ghorium. But he wasn’t too
eager. The biting cold would be worse
there, and he had yet to accomplish something to appease his merciless
Master. Twice in Oescienne, he had
failed to capture the human child, and then once again in Lidien. He had been mere hours from making his most
recent move, a strike which would have been successful. Yet, that accursed Tanaan dragon had somehow
discovered his plan, fleeing the city with the girl right under his nose. They were still moving, even now as he
stumbled around in the forest, heading north toward the realm of the
Creecemind. If it were up to him, Boriahs
would have gone after them right away.
But to change his plans without informing his Master would be
suicidal. And it had already been
several days since their last conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
cursed, a long, nasty string of barbed words laced with magic. A cluster of small saplings nearby shriveled
and turned black, the result of his careless language. The man sneered in perverse
satisfaction. He did not like trees, and
being in the tree-infested mountains of the west was only turning his mood
fouler. But he knew the true reason for
his anger and fear: his inability to capture the human child his Master so
desired and the repercussions of that failure.
Yes, Boriahs was frustrated, but more than that, he was afraid. The Crimson King had been patient for five
hundred years, surely he could be patient for a bit longer. Boriahs, however, didn’t want to be the one
to test that patience.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">He kicked
aside the ashen ruins of the trees which had played victim to his ire and
ascended a few dozen feet more through a thick carpet of pine needle detritus,
making it past one last rocky outcropping.
He stumbled upon an empty glade a minute later, his heart clenching and
giving a relieved flutter in the same beat.
Several pools of frozen snowmelt littered the ground like icy
mirrors. Boriahs was glad the strenuous
hike was over, but he feared what awaited him.
Seeking out the largest puddle, he trudged over, the muddy ground
pulling at his boots. To his great
relief, the pool had only a thin layer of ice covering the top.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><i>This is the best you are going to get</i>, he told himself as he picked up a rock and
smashed away the film of frost. Cool,
black water soaked into his gloves, and once the liquid settled, his reflection
stared back at him, glowering. Stark
eyes, unkempt hair and a slightly crooked nose suggested a life of hardship,
but the most distinguishing, and telling, feature was the scar on one side of
his face. Boriahs lifted a hand and
brushed at the brand that marked him as the Crimson King’s slave. Years of suppressed memories and suffering
rushed forth, almost stealing Boriahs’ breath away. He had joined the king’s army when he was
young, his heart torn asunder for the loss of all those he loved. He had willingly given up his mortality and
free will for the promise of vengeance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">His father
had tried resisting the Crimson King when he’d first come to power. A simple tradesman in one of the coastal
cities of Ghorium, he had helped lead a rebellion against the Tyrant in the
north. But they would never gain their
chance to challenge the king of Ghorium.
Boriahs’ father and his companions were discovered and brought to
ruin. The townsfolk had uncovered the
men’s plot and had recognized it for what it was: a risky venture that would
only result in angering the Tyrant who ruled over them. Boriahs’ father and his companions were
captured and tortured.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Every
single rebel was killed that terrible day, their dismembered bodies strewn
throughout the town, a warning to those who still wished to draw attention to
their city by provoking the Tyrant King.
To make certain the townspeople never took it upon themselves to revolt
again, the families of the usurpers were also dealt with, many burned to death
within their own homes. Boriahs managed
to escape, but not his mother and sisters.
He had been sixteen years of age when he fled, and on the anniversary of
the slaughter of his entire family, he’d returned to that sleepy little port
with a contingency of the Crimson King’s army and a fresh scar burned into his
cheek. He had watched in cold satisfaction
as the men who had caused so much harm and pain succumbed to the same fate as
his parents and siblings.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">He had
enjoyed seeing their suffering, but when the Crimson King’s men continued to
burn and kill and raid their way through the entire town, Boriahs learned the
terrible mistake he had made. For one
single moment of revenge, he had forfeited his soul, pledging it to a madman
controlled by the god of death and chaos.
He understood, as he and the army left the ruined city behind to return
to their new Master, that his life was bound to that of the king’s. So long as the Tyrant lived, so would he.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Taking a
deep breath of the biting air, Boriahs tried to clear his thoughts so that he
might get through his task. But the
past’s dark memories clung tightly to him, their claws buried deep, and by the
time he was in control of his own mind once again, the sun had broken free of
the horizon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Cursing a
second time, Boriahs used his numb fingers to dig out his dagger. He had best hurry. His men would be waking soon, and he needed
his next set of orders from his Master.
Removing the glove from his left hand proved tricky, but he didn’t even
feel the cold steel as he pressed it against his palm. One swift movement reopened the wound that
could never quite heal. Fresh blood,
dark red and tainted with poisonous magic, welled up. Boriahs released the dagger and used his free
hand to pull a cord from around his neck.
The pendant hanging from it was the color of yellowed ivory, a bloodrose
carved from bone. According to the
Crimson King, it was bone taken from the last king of the Tanaan before his
people and descendants were transformed into dragons. Boriahs believed it was bone, but he had his
doubts about where it had come from.
Human, perhaps, or more likely bone from one of the Tanaan dragons his
Master had captured and killed over the years.
Regardless, Boriahs wrapped his bleeding hand around the talisman and
held it over the pool of water. He
gripped it tight, forcing the blood to bead and drip from his clenched
fist. As the dark droplets met the
surface of the water, he muttered ancient words of dark magic under his breath. His concentration was absolute, and soon the
dark puddle was swirling and rippling, even though the wind had finally ceased
its endless barrage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
called upon his Master, both in mind and aloud.
The undulating water began to churn, then bubble and froth. Putrid smoke rose from its surface and curled
over the muddy earth. It was as if Ethoes
herself knew who he conjured and fought against his vile presence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
gritted his teeth and fought the ache in his head. The connection was a distant one, making it
all the more difficult. Gradually, the
water simmered down and smoothed out, the acrid smoke hissing against the
ground. The puddle no longer resembled
the muddy water it was composed of, but a window into another land, a cold,
dark land. A face appeared out of the
gloom, and Boriahs drew in a breath of relief.
It was Cierryon, in his human form, not the demon god who controlled
him. That meant Ciarrohn was at rest,
and perhaps, he would avoid the god’s wrath today.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">As the
magic worked and the picture grew clearer, Boriahs took the time to study his
king’s features. Golden brown hair,
sprinkled with some gray, covered his head and fell to his shoulders. He looked to be approaching middle age, but
the Crimson King’s servant knew better.
Cierryon had stopped aging the day he’d struck that terrible bargain
with the god of hatred. He had become
immortal, a link, a puppet, for the god of death and despair. Without Cierryon’s consent, Ciarrohn would
never have been able to consume him, to channel his vast power through the
human king’s soul. Because of Cierryon’s
greed and ambition, half the world had fallen to the dark god’s malice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The water
settled, and Boriahs shook himself free of his treasonous thoughts. If the Crimson King discovered how much his
servant despised him, then Boriahs would be dead. Instead, he looked his Master in the eye,
eyes that reflected the black pit where his soul used to be, the place where
the demon god now lived.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“You have
news for me, Boriahs,” the Tyrant said, his voice quiet, but resonant
nonetheless.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">It always
made Boriahs shiver, for his king’s voice reflected everything he hid
within. If anyone were to encounter
Cierryon in his human form, they might not be able to discern just what he was
if he remained silent. The moment he
spoke, or the moment one looked him in the eye, however, would let them know
what they dealt with. Boriahs had seen
warrior elves and centaurs alike brought to their knees by a mere whisper from
his Master’s lips.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
shook his head again and cleared his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“I have,”
he answered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“Very
well. You have kept me waiting long
enough. I will hear what you have to
report.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">And
without any further delay, Boriahs told King Cierryon everything that had taken
place since his last reporting. He told
him of his attack and eradication of the dragon Hroombramantu and the
interference of the dragon Jaax in the kidnapping of the human girl. He spoke of the corruption within the
Coalition and his dealings with the dragon Shiroxx. He told him about the rumor that had been
spread about the girl’s questionable heritage and how the same rumor had called
the dragon Jaax’s competence into question.
And reluctantly, he divulged how the girl and her dragon guardian had,
once again, slipped through his fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
finished his tale with his head bowed and his eyes closed, anticipating the
blast of angry magic that would most assuredly come. He waited, and waited a few seconds longer,
but there was no reaction. When he dared
to open his eyes, what he saw terrified him to the point of utter
speechlessness. The human face had
changed, warping into the skeletal visage of a demon. Burning red eyes regarded him under a forest
of wicked, black horns.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“You try
my patience, slave,” Ciarrohn hissed, this voice deeper, harsher than
Cierryon’s.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“Forgive
me, my lord,” Boriahs rasped, lowering his gaze once again. “There are spies I know nothing of aiding the
girl and the dragon. They were warned
before I could move. My men and I were
gathered around the outskirts of Lidien.
A day more, two at the most, and we would have had them.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The
demon’s ire burned with rage, his slit nostrils flaring as black smoke poured
from them. Boriahs felt his bare hands
dig into the mud, his fingers curling into fists, trying to grab hold of
something to keep from shaking. Frozen
air drifted up from the puddle and curled around his body like a giant
hand. The icy breath passed through his
clothes and seeped into his skin, closing in on his heart. Boriahs gulped for breath and his heart sped
up, fear and frost waging war on his senses.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“You are
too valuable to me to kill,” Cierryon growled, the last traces of the demon god
fading from his visage, “but do not think anything less than capturing the girl
and that dragon will garner my forgiveness.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
shook his head, his eyes wide with terror.
“N-no, your Majesty. I would
think not.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Slowly,
the ice receded only to be replaced with the prickling pain of warmth returning
to his body.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“Do not
report to me again until you have accomplished something worthy of my
attention. That you did away with that
bothersome dragon in Oescienne will grant you my peace for only so long, Boriahs,”
the dark voice murmured as it faded away, the resonant tones echoing in Boriahs’
mind.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Gritting
his teeth and taking deep, ragged breaths, the Tyrant’s slave fought against
the intense nausea that resulted in these magical exchanges. He fought it, but lost out in the end. On wobbly legs, he stumbled over to a cluster
of rocks and retched behind them. Once
he was done with the unpleasant episode, Boriahs gathered some of the chilly
water into his hands and cleaned his face.
It would do him no good to return to his awaiting men looking like a
beaten drunkard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">By the
time he rejoined his small army in the wide meadow they’d camped in the night
before, Boriahs was much more presentable.
He had managed to scrape most of the mud from his uniform, and even his
churning stomach and the pounding in his head had eased. Boriahs hesitated on announcing his
return. Instead, he stood behind a
screen of fir trees and simply observed the men below. All of them had pledged their souls to
Ciarrohn and shared a level of combat skill which elevated them above the
thousands of others who had joined under the Crimson King’s banner. But he was their high commander. He held power over all of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
almost snorted at the thought. Yes, he
may be their superior, but it came at such a high price. Not one of them had any idea what it cost him
to speak with their common Master. In
fact, he envied them all, going about the morning in such a normal way:
starting fires, brewing coffee and tea, cooking porridge and telling bawdy
jokes. Some of them tended to the quahna, the fierce beasts they rode instead of
horses. With the teeth of carnivores,
sharp, cloven hooves and large, powerful bodies, these animals provided
transportation as well as an aggressive edge over their equine cousins. It also meant they posed a danger to those
who handled them as well.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">As Boriahs
studied the creatures, two pulled free of their handlers and lunged toward one
another, screaming their violent rage. The
Tyrant’s favored servant wrinkled his nose in disgust. It took ten of his men to pull them apart,
and even then, he counted no less than seven of them clutching arms or abdomens
where the monsters had managed a bite or a kick. Yes, having such creatures was hazardous, but
it also meant no one stood in their way.
The small legion had been very successful raiding towns and settlements
as they headed north up the coast. Yet, not
once did they stumble upon the dragon and the girl, nor find any evidence of
their passing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
curled his lip in irritation. For a
year, the human girl and her dragon had hidden behind the magical barrier
surrounding the City of Light. Even now,
after receiving vital information from that red she-dragon and with the help of
his dark mages, he could not find a way into the city. No matter.
The dragon and the girl were gone, so it was time for him and his men to
move on as well. They would clear out as
soon as he gave the order, this time splitting into groups to comb the wilds
more thoroughly. No more wandering
aimlessly through the endless mountain chains of the west. Not now.
The dragon Raejaaxorix and his ward were heading for Nimbronia, and
there were only so many roads that led to the great city of the Creecemind. The girl and her companion had a few days
head start, but they were traveling on foot and if Boriahs could keep his men
moving at a steady pace, then they would catch up to them sooner rather than
later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Setting
his jaw in determination, the Crimson King’s assassin peeled himself away from
the trees and continued down into the clearing.
Those who saw him right away stopped what they were doing and offered
him a salute. He nodded, but kept
walking. When he reached the center of
the campground, he climbed atop the trunk of an old fallen tree and raised his
arms, his black cloak billowing out behind him.
By this time everyone had seen him, their attention now trained on their
commander.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“Listen,
all of you,” Boriahs called out, his deep voice ringing through the
meadow. “I have spoken with our Master,
and he is not pleased with our failure with regards to the Tanaan scum and that
girl.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">A low,
worried murmur spread through the crowd, but Boriahs kept one hand lifted high
above his head. “Fret not, for he has
given us another chance. He is pleased
with those of us who took the initiative and eradicated the old Korli vermin in
Oescienne,” he paused and nodded his head to those of his troupe who had been
present for that honor. “So, we fall
still within his favor.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">A small
round of relieved sighs and short laughs arose from the crowd, but Boriahs
shouted, “Silence! Any failure, no
matter how minute, is not something to be celebrated. Yes, we managed to rid the world of one more
filthy dragon, but that is a minor detail compared to the prize he seeks above
all. We will not rest, nor will we
rejoice, until the girl and the dragon are quivering at the feet of our
Master!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Silent
nods met his words this time.
Better. He took one long look at
those standing below him before going on.
Ten groups of fifteen, plus one commander to keep them in order as well
as a dark mage for each faction to take care of that which sixteen ruthless
killers couldn’t accomplish. And, he was
the Master of them all. Boriahs savored
the sense of smug satisfaction unfurling within him, but not for the first
time, the feeling was quickly replaced by the sting of his Master’s
presence. A reminder to him that he was
still a slave.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“We must
move quickly, if we wish to overtake them,” he called out. “They are headed for Nimbronia, and we must
capture them before they reach their final destination.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">He knew,
just as every single one of his men did, that if the dragon and the human
should move within the boundaries of Nimbronia, they would be untouchable. The magic that surrounded the city of the
Creecemind was even more powerful than the magic guarding Lidien.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“Let us
not waste another minute. We will break
camp and be on the road in half an hour.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The men,
most of them descended from the mixed races of humans and elves, gave shouts of
agreement, all of them thirsty once again for battle and bloodshed. As they scattered about, taking heed of their
commander’s words, Boriahs was joined by a waif of a man dressed head to foot
in brilliant crimson robes. Like Boriahs,
he sported the brand of the Tyrant on one cheek. Unlike Boriahs, he was a wielder of black
magic, the sort that required a blood sacrifice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“Armauld,”
Boriahs growled under his breath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The dark
sorcerer grinned, revealing his decaying teeth, and hissed, “The dragon and the
girl are not alone in their quest.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
turned cold eyes onto the dark mage.
“Who travels with them?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Armauld
shook his head, his grin fading. “One
whom I cannot detect.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
cursed. “Then how do you know of his
presence?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The mage
held up a hand and moved his fingers in a small dance. An orb of white light floated above his
fingertips and within its center floated two bright sparks, one green and one
blue.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“The
dragon and the girl,” the mage whispered, indicating the two sparks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
was about to strike the mage for wasting his time when something odd caught his
attention. It wasn’t so much the
presence of anything, but the fact that the two sparks came to a standstill,
and in the next breath, the blue dot winked out for a split second before
flaring back to life again. Then, the
two dots began moving once more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“Why did
the spark blot out?” the high commander demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“A third
companion,” the mage sneered. “Someone
capable of using very powerful cloaking magic.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
gave him a look of impatience, so the mage continued on. “This person who travels with them is an
extremely powerful mage. And he is using
magic I’ve not seen in several hundred years.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">This time,
Boriahs swore loud enough to startle the closest soldiers scurrying around
him. He glared at them and barked a
reminder that what they didn’t have packed in twenty minutes would be left
behind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“What does
this mean, Armauld? Who is this phantom
mage?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">This time,
the dark sorcerer had the decency to forego his smug expression and replace it
with a worried one. “I do not know, High
Commander. But, we best not
underestimate this dragon and the human girl.
Or, the company they keep.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Grinding
his teeth together, Boriahs dismissed Armauld and continued walking briskly to
the makeshift stables. His quahna was saddled and waiting for him, the largest
of the beasts and as black as soot. The
animal, naturally excitable and giving the men holding him as much trouble as a
herd of enraged boars, flared its nostrils and calmed upon Boriahs’ approach.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Murmuring
soothing words, the army’s high commander rubbed the animal’s forehead
affectionately. Funny how he had so much
trouble connecting with others of his kind, but this vicious beast behaved so
well for him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“There
now, Andor,” he crooned. “I know you are
eager to seek out your prey, but you must allow me to get settled on your back
first.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The beast
squealed and snorted, slashing its hoof at the ground. Everyone, save for Boriahs, backed away. Taking the reins firmly, the squadron’s
leader placed a boot in the stirrup and gracefully mounted the beast, throwing
his dark cloak over the quahna’s
hindquarters. The animal only protested
a bit before Boriahs had him under control.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“To your
own steeds!” he shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Everyone
scrambled to follow his orders, and soon, all one hundred and seventy of them
were moving, their quahna
screaming and snapping their sharp teeth at the excitement of a new hunt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Boriahs
waited for all of his men to move out before following after them. Armauld, as well as a few of the other
squadron leaders and mages, fell back with him as their sights pointed
north. A gust of frigid spring wind
curled down the mountainside as they left the meadow in their wake. Boriahs shivered at the cool air moving
through his hair and sending his cloak billowing out behind him. But the wind’s icy bite failed to bother him
as he led his troops deeper into the mountains, their will set on capturing a
Tanaan dragon and the young woman who, with the simple power of her existence,
sought to change the world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
</span></h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-8356208831594777462015-12-22T05:00:00.000-08:002015-12-22T05:00:00.928-08:00Jahrra's Journal: Keeping an Eye on the SuspectHello readers! Last post of the year from Jahrra's Journal! I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and I look forward to posting more in the coming year. This week, Jahrra keeps an eye on Ellysian, the one she suspects of setting her up. Enjoy!<br />
-J.E. Johnson<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-size: large;"><u><b>Keeping an Eye on the Suspect</b></u></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">Dear Journal,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">Things seem to be getting back to normal at school. Today we talked about occupations (that's what jobs are called), so Mr. Cohrbin asked us to tell him what our mothers and fathers did for a living, then we had a discussion. Some students said their parents owned shops in Kiniahn Kroi, others' parents were merchants.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">Of course, Eydeth and Ellysian talked for far too long about how their father was a wealthy business man, landowner AND the most well known breeder of semequins in all of Oescienne if not the entire Norwester Arm of the world. I wasn't sure what semequins were (I'd have to ask Master Hroombra later, if I remembered), but it must be something fancy.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">When it got to my turn I told the class how Nida and Pada owned an orchard. I said the hardest part was watering all the trees and keeping the bad bugs away, and the best part was having all those trees to climb. There were also all those apples to eat (until you got sick of them) and the wonderful flowers in the spring.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">I told them how we had several different kinds of apple trees and the blossoms could be snow white, or soft peach and pink, and that even one tree had blossoms that were a deep blue color. Those ones only bloomed every other year and it took two years for their dark purple apples to ripen. I told them all how Pada saved those to make the best cider and apple pies. Both Nida and Pada had won several first prize ribbons for their cider and apple pies at the fall festival in Nuun Esse.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">After we had all shared, it was lunch time. Gieaun and Scede and I climbed the oak tree to get away from everyone, and it was then that I remembered to ask them what they thought about Ellysian being the one who stole Mr. Cohrbin's treasure box. They agreed and we watched Ellysian from the branches to make sure she didn't try to sneak anything into the classroom and into my desk. She did wander off quietly to somewhere beyond the schoolyard and returned with her hands in her pockets. She looked around to make sure no one had been watching her before she stepped back through the bushes. Gieaun and Scede gave me a very knowing look and we decided from then on to pay extra close attention to what she was up to.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">-Jahrra</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: inherit;">* * * * *</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Want to read more about Jahrra and her adventures? Download </span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">The Legend of Oescienne - The Finding</i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">, the first book in the Oescienne series, for FREE from </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Legend-Oescienne-Finding-Book-ebook/dp/B002J9HMQA/ref=sr_1_1_twi_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1419805798&sr=8-1&keywords=the+legend+of+oescienne+the+finding" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">! </span><i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"> </span></i></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-31789832981789493532015-12-11T09:00:00.000-08:002015-12-11T09:00:03.402-08:00FAEBORNE - First Chapter Teaser!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YnyIPhyF2fZEOGdOz_NAEG0GZM5cmYFSRdML_0JFAVhRX17Cc8cVIAX-7hcJ0_uwqmE_GgXA9dZi5PTk9Rwlyori39bupDKYs14DhJM__wMJc8-oGR3NUSyKM-CVvjuGvSAT_k4xYAA/s1600/Faeborne-DigitalCoverImage-BEST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YnyIPhyF2fZEOGdOz_NAEG0GZM5cmYFSRdML_0JFAVhRX17Cc8cVIAX-7hcJ0_uwqmE_GgXA9dZi5PTk9Rwlyori39bupDKYs14DhJM__wMJc8-oGR3NUSyKM-CVvjuGvSAT_k4xYAA/s320/Faeborne-DigitalCoverImage-BEST.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hello Readers! Only a few more weeks until the release of FAEBORNE, so I thought I'd give you a sneak peek at the first chapter of the latest Otherworld novel. For those of you who don't follow me on Facebook, and if you haven't been receiving my special Faeborne Preview Chapters newsletter, then this will be entirely new for you. If you'd like to read the first five chapters of this novel, you can still sign up to receive the newsletter (Chapters 1-5 are scheduled to go out on December 16th, a week prior to publication). The link for that special newsletter can be found on the right side of this post, or you can click <a href="http://jennaelizabethjohnson.us4.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=4574730dcb0b4987359d216bf&id=9bc41e6db4" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A LITTLE BIT ABOUT FAEBORNE ...</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you missed my previous post with the cover reveal of <i>Faeborne</i>, here is a little bit of information regarding this latest Otherworld novel . . . <i>Faeborne</i> started out a few years ago as a short story idea during NaNoWriMo (<a href="http://nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">National Novel Writing Month</a>) and was set aside because I decided to focus on finishing <i>Lorehnin</i> at the time. Since then, I've come back to <i>Faeborne</i>, realizing early on that there was far too much material for this tale to fit into a novella-length book. By the time I finished the final draft, <i>Faeborne</i> became the longest Otherworld novel so far (135,000 words compared to the previous longest, <i>Luathara</i>, which ended up being around 125,000 words). This story also takes place several years before Meghan and Cade's time and features an entirely new set of characters living in the northeastern part of Eile. The Morrigan is once again stirring up trouble for the main characters, Brennon and Seren, but she remains a distant threat instead of an immediate one. At the very end of the story, a familiar character from the other books makes a cameo appearance of sorts, but I don't name the character (I just leave hints, but those of you who have read the other Otherworld books should be able to figure it out rather easily ;)). <i>Faeborne</i> contains many of the elements found in the rest of the Otherworld books, but this standalone novel is very much a story of love, family, second chances and redemption. I hope you all will enjoy it as much as you have enjoyed the other Otherworld novels and once I'm done with the manuscript for my fourth Oescienne book, I'd like to check back in with Meghan, Cade, Devlin, Robyn and Enorah since they all have a continuing tale to tell ;). Until then, happy reading!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- JEJ</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">FAEBORNE - A NOVEL OF THE OTHERWORLD</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Chapter One</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Hunt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The split second before Brennon released the arrow, he realized it would not meet its mark. He had been hunting the doe all morning, following her tracks with stealth and staying downwind as he moved through the forest like a silent fog. Well, as silent as the occasional twig underfoot and clump of brush tugging on his cloak would allow him. To get to this point and foul up on something as simple as a bowshot from such a short distance was unforgiveable. He and Rori had been without fresh meat for over a week now, and the both of them were craving venison stew and hoping for jerky to carry them past Samhain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Biting back a curse as the fletching of the misdirected arrow brushed against his arm guard, Brenn could only hope this shot wounded the deer enough, so he could follow her and finish the job. He hated it when the animals didn’t die right away, for the last thing he wanted was to cause more suffering than necessary, but there was no helping it now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the end, the arrow didn’t miss his target as terribly as he thought it would. The arrowhead struck the doe high on the shoulder, forcing a scream from her pale throat, but not taking her down completely. Instead, she bolted into the thick undergrowth as fast as her injury would allow her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Brenn sighed. He had promised Rori he would be home before dark, now, he wasn’t so sure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You cannot just leave her to die</i>, he grumbled to himself. <i>Might take her all night, long hours of agony, and then, the wolves will take advantage of your ill luck.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Already, the sun was beginning to dip toward the western horizon, the sky taking on the deeper colors of impending twilight. If fortune was on his side, he’d find the deer right away and be home before the predators living in this forest scented the blood. Pulling his cloak tighter, Brennon narrowed his eyes and began his new hunt, trying hard not to think of the Samhain feast day that was fast approaching. How had the time slipped away from him? One moment, their part of Eile was in the throes of summer, and in the next he and his nephew were busy bringing in the harvest: Apples and pears from their small orchard, barley, corn, turnips and other root vegetables from the fields. Hay, oats and feed grains had been growing since early spring and stored in the barn as food and bedding supplies for the animals. Although Brenn and Rori had plenty to eat and enough to see the animals through the cold months, this time of year brought with it a taint of darkness which never failed to taunt Brennon’s demons.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pushing through the tangled, dark-thorned bramble patches that contributed to the wood’s name, Brenn quickly reined in his thoughts and sent them down a different path. Instead, he turned his attention to his surroundings. Occupying several dozen acres of Eile’s northern lands, Dorcha Forest was second in size only to the Weald far to the southwest. Brenn couldn’t help but feel the corner of his mouth curve up in amusement, despite the impending dark and the still missing deer. As large as Dorcha was, it didn’t hold a candle to the Weald, and as dangerous as it was to be stuck in this particular forest at night, finding yourself lost in Cernunnos’s grand wilderness was far more terrifying. Or so he’d heard. Regardless, Dorcha boasted a mix of evergreen and deciduous trees and was said to harbor many wild creatures both natural and unnatural.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Brenn shivered as the bitterness of disgust rose in his throat. Being so close to the Morrigan’s realm, he wouldn’t be surprised if an entire legion of faelah lurked under the cover of these trees. And of course, thinking of faelah only brought his mind back to the past he wanted to forget, a past filled with violence, hatred and loss.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The young Faelorehn man pulled his cloak more tightly about himself. Six years was not a very long time in the lifespan of someone native to Eile, but when those years were spent in the employ of the Morrigan, his world’s most brutal and sadistic goddess, every day, every hour, felt like an eternity. A month after turning sixteen, Brennon had been turned over to the war goddess’s scouts by his own neighbors. He had a gift, one they feared and one he considered a curse, and it had earned him too many enemies, even at such a young age. The farm where he and his nephew now lived had belonged to their family since Eile first came into existence, or so it seemed, and their flocks and fields were always plentiful. The truth of the matter was the soil of Ardún, the land surrounding Roarke Manor, was imbued with ancient magic, magic that had made the harvests plentiful and his family wealthy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Everyone in the village of Dundoire Hollow either envied the Roarkes, desired their friendship or outright hated them. One family in particular embodied all three. The Corcorain clan sought to be associated with the Roarkes and had tried to arrange a marriage between their children and Brennon and his sister. Baird and Arlana Corcorain were as cold and unfeeling as their parents, interested only in the vices that plagued Faelorehn-kind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A tremor of unease wracked Brenn, making him misstep and nearly twist his ankle on an exposed tree root. Such feelings often visited whenever he found himself thinking about the Corcorain family, especially their daughter. Even though she had been only fourteen at the time, Arlana was as shrewd and calculating as one of the Morrigan’s ravens. With her red-blond hair and sparkling, changeable eyes, she had early assumed the title of town beauty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every male old enough to notice the opposite gender was easily led around by the nose, should Arlana wish it. Every male, that is, except for Brenn himself. At age fifteen going on sixteen, he had begun to take notice of the young women in the village as well, but he knew better than to fall for Arlana’s charms. And he was far more interested in hunting and war sports to waste his time on the girls who preferred to keep their hands clean and free of calluses. If he was ever to marry, it would be to someone like his sister, Meara.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Meara, two years older than Brenn and just as wild and stubborn, was unlike the other girls in town. Although not considered as beautiful as Arlana, she was striking nonetheless with her dark hair and gray fae eyes. And her Faelorehn blood promised her the legendary good looks which were endemic to their entire race. Just as Arlana had her cap set on Brennon, her brother Baird had his lustful eye fixed upon Meara. Baird was three years older than Meara, and like his sister, was popular with the families in town.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Despite Arlana’s beauty and Baird’s charms, they did not appeal to the Roarke siblings in the least. Meara refused Baird’s advances, time and time again, and when a young horse trainer moved into Dundoire Hollow in search of a new start, Meara’s disinterest in marriage soon turned. Unlike Baird, Donal was carefree, kind, gentle and his knowledge of horses only made him more appealing to Meara. Within a year, they were married and expecting their first child.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Brennon came to a stop, a three-year-old sorrow stirring in his chest and threatening to take over. He forcibly blinked back the memories and took stock of his surroundings. He had one foot on the leaf-carpeted forest floor, another resting upon the gnarled root of a beech tree. Ice seemed to have formed over his fingertips, despite the gloves, and although his breath didn’t mist the air in front of him, the cold had numbed his face and nose. The evergreen undergrowth rustled with the sounds of animals seeking their nightly refuge, and in the distance, the first mournful cries of an owl signaled the encroaching dusk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The light of the waning day had not dimmed to the point of pure darkness yet, but it seemed Brennon’s vision had gone in that direction anyway. He had loved his sister more than anyone in the world, except for maybe his parents, and it had been because of him she had died. A Faelorehn woman who should have lived for all eternity. Her bright eyes and mischievous smile would never cheer him up again, and her laughter would never dance among the barley fields on a summer’s eve as they raced home from a day spent fishing along the stream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The pain in his chest blossomed sharply and burst, but he fought against it. Giving in to the grief right now would not help him or Rori, the one part of his sister he had left. Setting his jaw, Brenn tightened his grip on his bow and focused his eyes forward, scouring the dense brush ahead for signs of the deer’s passage. He would find it and bring it home, so he and Rori could have meat for the next week or so without having to make a trip into town. He would take care of his nephew, see to it that he grew into a strong young man. He would not fail his sister for a second time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the end, it didn’t take Brennon very long to track the doe. She hadn’t gone far, maybe a half a mile or so deeper into the woods, and the evidence of her clumsy passage was more of a tell than the occasional splatter of blood on the dark leaves underfoot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Must be a young one</i>, Brennon thought with some regret. But it was well into the autumn season, and unfortunately, many of the deer killed during this time of year were the younger, inexperienced ones.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The broken brush gave way to a small, secluded meadow, and Brenn paused in his forward progression. The sky was a wash of slate and cobalt now, so there was still a little light for him to see by, but he knew at least part of the journey home would be made in darkness. That all depended on how close he was to his quarry. Brenn didn’t spot the deer right away, not with the poor light and tangled overgrowth of brambles and holly, but it was clear she had stumbled around in this small haven. Drawing his knife so he’d be prepared to end her misery the moment he caught sight of her, Brennon moved past the last bit of thorn bushes and began casting his eyes around. Movement to his right drew his attention to a small den of sorts, hollowed out from a tangle of ivy and blackberry vines. The perfect place for a deer to hide, if it didn’t have a hunter on its tail.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’m sorry about this, girl,” he murmured as he made his way forward, his cloak snagging on thorns and sharp branches.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The doe was curled up in a tight ball, her long, graceful legs tucked beneath her, her head bent around and nestled against her body. The arrow stuck out at an odd angle, a large dark patch of blood oozing from the wound. She did not stir as Brennon approached with his knife. Taking a deep breath, he reached in to end her suffering, but an odd movement stayed his hand. The muscles beneath the doe’s soft, brown hide began to ripple and pulse, as if some foreign parasite undulated under her skin. Horrified, Brennon snatched his arm away and took a few steps backward, watching in fascinated shock at the bizarre scene unfolding before him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>What strange glamour is at work here?</i> he wondered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The darkness that had settled in this small glen was deeper, richer than the night shades creeping up on the main forest, but even then, he missed nothing. The spindly front legs of the deer shortened and filled out, the hind legs soon following suit. The doe’s abdomen tapered in the middle and then flared out at the hips. Her narrow head swelled and long, dark spirals of hair sprouted from the scalp. The deer’s large ears grew smaller, disappearing beneath the tousle of hair on a now Faelorehn head. Hooves morphed into hands and feet, complete with fingers and toes. The entire transformation took less than thirty seconds, but it had felt like an eternity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Brenn was certain he made some sound of shocked fascination as he quickly backed even farther away from this unnatural thing. He would have turned and bolted if not for the tangle of roots that tripped up his feet, sending him crashing, unceremoniously, to the ground. Cursing, he rolled over, ready to scramble away as fast as he could, but a soft mewling noise stopped him. Instead of regaining his feet and running back the way he had come, he turned his head to look at the doe. Or, at least, what had been a doe mere seconds ago. Now, it was a woman. A very young woman. He narrowed his eyes, studying her cautiously, half expecting her to change forms again. Her own eyes were clenched in pain, and she reached up one hand to finger the arrow protruding from her flesh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Don’t,” Brenn protested automatically, holding a hand out to her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Too late. Her fingers brushed the shaft of the arrow, and she cried out. Her head rolled to the side, and her hand slipped away, streaking blood across her collar bone. At first, Brenn thought she had died, but then, he saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She had only lost consciousness. Thank the gods. Strange magic or not, he did not need another death weighing on his soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now that the deer girl was motionless and asleep, Brenn lifted himself up off the ground and approached her guardedly. He couldn’t tell much about her without any light, but he noted her slim figure and long, dark hair. She didn’t look underfed, but she was not built like most Faelorehn women he knew. For one, if she were to be standing next to him, her head might come level with his shoulders, if that. And her skin tone was darker as well. Not the pale shade found on most of those living in Dundoire Hollow and in the other parts of Eile he had visited when under the Morrigan’s control.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually, Brennon shook his head and clenched his jaw. He could stand out here all night, staring at this strange creature like the letches who hid in the reeds near the riverbank to watch the women in Dundoire Hollow bathe. Or, he could draw on whatever shred of honor he still possessed and make up for the harm he had caused her. As peculiar as she might be, it was his fault, after all, that she was lying naked on the ground with an arrow protruding from her shoulder.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wondering if he was making a mistake, then dismissing his doubts just as quickly, he shrugged off his cloak and draped it around her body, careful of the arrow wound and cursing at the thorns and branches hindering his progress. The girl didn’t even sigh in protest when he lifted her, but continued to breathe evenly, her eyes closed, her long, thick lashes curling away from her cheeks. Brenn was compelled then to hold her closer to his body, maybe because he felt she needed the reassurance of his quiet promise to help her, or perhaps he did it for purely selfish reasons. Maybe he needed to feel that she was, indeed, alive and that his mistake had not killed her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Whatever you are, and whatever curse you brought down upon yourself, I hope I do not curse you further by bringing you into my house,” he murmured, as he carried her light frame through the ever darkening woods, heading southeast and towards home.</span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Continue reading Brennon and Seren's story in <i>Faeborne - A Novel of the Otherworld</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Available DECEMBER 23RD</span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">***PRE-ORDER YOUR DIGITAL COPY OF FAEBORNE TODAY!***</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/faeborne-jenna-elizabeth-johnson/1122885427?ean=2940152441277" target="_blank">BARNESANDNOBLE.COM</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/faeborne-novel-otherworld/id1054896217?mt=11" target="_blank">ITUNES.COM</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/faeborne-a-novel-of-the-otherworld" target="_blank">KOBO.COM</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/589791" target="_blank">SMASHWORDS.COM</a></span></div>
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AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730326187480360148.post-34253886529703735562015-12-08T05:00:00.000-08:002015-12-08T05:00:07.130-08:00Jahrra's Journal: AftermathGreetings readers! These are the last two posts from Jahrra's Journal for this year. I hope you've enjoyed her small adventures so far and I look forward to continuing them into next year. This week, Jahrra talks about speaking with her parents about the incident involving the ponyfly cocoon. Happy reading!<br />
-J.E. Johnson<br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-size: large;">Aftermath</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i>Dear Journal,</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i>I just couldn't bring myself to write to you during the weekend, I was just too tired and upset. When I got home from school a few days ago, I had to show Nida and Pada the letter Mr. Cohrbin sent home. I cried the entire time and Nida and Pada gave me a stern look. When I finally calmed down they asked me if it was true, what the letter said (it said I had stolen items from Mr. Cohrbin's desk and that I had failed to confess). I told them it wasn't true and that I thought someone else put the ponyfly cocoon in my desk.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i>They thought about what I said for a long time, then Pada said he would get Master Hroombra to take us both into school at the beginning of the week to talk to Mr. Cohrbin. He and Nida then told me I should go to my room and make absolutely sure I was telling the truth. I was afraid to go back to school, but Pada and Master Hroombra were there with me. Gieaun and Scede asked me what was going on, and as Master Hroombra and Pada spoke with Mr. Cohrbin (with everyone watching and whispering in the schoolyard of course), I went and told them how Pada and Master Hroombra didn't believe I stole anything. After a long time, we went into the classroom and the day passed rather quietly.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i>After class, Mr. Cohrbin asked to speak with me. I was terrified, but he only asked why I didn't tell him I hadn't stolen anything when I had been accused, and I told him it was for many reasons. First of all I was afraid, secondly I was shocked, and finally, how could I say I didn't do it when the evidence was in my desk?</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i>He told me he'd give me a second chance, and that cheered me up quite a bit. I can't help but wonder though, had Ellysian and her brother been behind it all along? Was this all over now? Should I tell Mr. Cohrbin I suspected them? I decided that I'd wait and talk it over with Gieaun and Scede tomorrow, before I make my decision.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i>-Jahrra </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Want to read more about Jahrra and her adventures? Download </span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">The Legend of Oescienne - The Finding</i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">, the first book in the Oescienne series, for FREE from </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Legend-Oescienne-Finding-Book-ebook/dp/B002J9HMQA/ref=sr_1_1_twi_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1419805798&sr=8-1&keywords=the+legend+of+oescienne+the+finding" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">! </span><i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"> </span></i></div>
AuthorJEJohnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03340713756976572249noreply@blogger.com2