Wisdom of the Elder Dragon

Storm Surge by bladebandit on DeviantArt

"Do you think power comes without a price?  Corruption of your power is a risk you take every day.  It is a divine gift and not to be squandered on conquest or manipulation of events just so that you can one day sit in power.  How many more must die so that you may ... remove your Uncle.  Kill him and be done with it." 

Pruatra to Alador - Blue Dragon in the Fallen Tiers, The Blue Dragon's Geas.  To be released in Winter of 2016

The Final Transformation - Except from Pseudo-Dragon!

Excerpt from the soon to be released Psuedo-dragon:

Rena and Alador During the Blizzard Spell

Alador had risen up onto his hands and knees with the intent to tackle Henrick and stop the spell.  The absorption spell hit him hard, knocking him over onto his side as he curled up in pain.  His hands went to his head as swirling clouds manifested over them, it felt as if large hands held him to the ground.

Separate from the thunderstorm, a maelstrom funneled down to just above the runes.  Henrick’s eyes were still closed as he chanted the words to the spell again.  His hair whipped about him wildly as he stood arms outstretched.  Fire rose up on the most outside lines, blurring Alador from sight. The smell of ozone and sulfur filled the air and in the distance, the mourning cry of the dragon song began to echo across the hills.

Henrick’s last words fell away.  He could do nothing but watch the boy’s faint form through the flames.  The fire still burned the outside lines and Alador was screaming within as he rolled about clutching his head.  The sound of a dragon’s wings drew Henrick's attention and a large form settled beside the worried mortal mage.

“Will he live?” Rena asked worriedly, she moved close to the runes, her wings fluttered with agitation.

“I do not know, Rena.” Henrick admitted. “He is strong, but he was unprepared. I didn’t get the chance to even tell him what he might expect. I don’t know if a mortal’s mind can take such expansion so suddenly.” Henrick took a deep centering breath.

“I want him to live,” Rena demanded.  Her tone was almost as if she could will it to be so.

Henrick looked over at her.  “We all do, Rena,” he answered loudly enough that she could hear over the wind and fire. “Your sire would not have suggested this if Alador could not withstand it.”

“It will change him,” she sounded unhappy.  She looked over at Henrick with clear accusation.

“It will.” Henrick agreed.  “Renamaum was noble and kind.  I can hardly think it will be for the worse.  Maybe he can even learn to control that tongue of his.”   Henrick’s forced a smile as the attempt at humor fell flat between them.

“Can it be undone?” she asked worriedly. “You know, so if it is not working out or he is not the man we know, can you take it back away?”  Her youthful angst was clear in her eyes as she looked at Henrick.   Some things were universal, and the moodiness of young dragons was no exception.  “I don’t want to lose who he is,” she whimpered out.

Henrick watched as the maelstrom began to rise back up into the skies.  “No,” he admitted.  “Right now, what is happening is beyond my control.  I cannot undo it.” He paused.  “To be honest, if I could - I would not.”  He turned to face the agitated female.  “Your father gave his life for this peace.  Your race and Alador’s people will all cease to be as you know them if Alador fails.”

She winced as another piercing scream cut through the air over the sounds of wind and fire.  “How can you put that on your son?  It is such a great burden.”  She pushed Henrick back with her muzzle angrily.

Henrick smacked the dragoness’ muzzle away from him, forced to give ground due to her size.  “I did not give him your father’s stone, Rena.” He glanced at the circle.  The fires were slowly dying down and the screaming had ceased.  “Rather fate, accident, or by the Gods’ will, this fell upon him without intervention from me.” He crossed his arms seemingly undeterred by the young dragon’s ire.

“It is still too much for one,” she growled out.

Henrick nodded, “Aye, and that is why we will stand with him.  He will not be alone, Rena. He has all of us in this fight.”

The Innocence of Evil

A poem written in response to a story where the dark lord gains power and doesn't realize it will cost him his newborn baby!



The darkest dawn doth call us all
to weep upon the throne.
The child lost lay still and quiet,
upon it a glimmer shone.

In trade of life at darkest hour,
in gift for which it is lost.
Would darkness' lord have began the
deed had he but known the cost.

When man plays god with power given
and then thwarts the fates.
He risks a path he would not chose,
if he but knew the stakes.

And so we mourn in darkened dawn,
before the golden throne.
While innocence serves evil and
melts all hearts of stone.

Money Is Magic That Everyone Pretends Is Not Magic!

“All money is imaginary," answered the Calcatrix simply. "Money is magic everyone agrees to pretend is not magic. Observe! You treat it like magic, wield it like magic, fear it like magic! Why should a body with more small circles of copper or silver or gold than anyone else have an easy life full of treats every day and sleeping in and other people bowing down? The little circles can't get up and fight a battle or make a supper so splendid you get full just by looking at it or build a house of a thousand gables. They can do those things because everyone agrees to give them power. If everyone agreed to stop giving power to pretty metals and started giving it to thumbnails or mushroom caps or roof shingles or first kisses or tears or hours or puffin feathers, those little circles would just lay there tarnishing in the rain and not making anyone bow their noses down to the ground or stick them up in the air.”

 ― Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two

Outcast - It is alive and ready to read!

So today is a day where dreams come true.  All my life I have wanted to be an artist.  When I was 16, I was so advanced in my English classes as far as creativity went, that my English teacher had a writer coming in twice a week to give me private coaching. I loved it.

However, fear is a powerful thing.  I have feared rejection and so I have published some poetry.  I have dabbled in ghost writing.  It wasn't until I met Rebecca and Alex Hunt that I got the courage to put my mother's story out.  After that, I had mentioned my novel half done sitting in my computer.  Alex began to push me.  He pushed and pushed and at times I remember cursing his persistent.  Then he took on the role of editor and ripped it all apart and pushed me to put it back together again.  After all the hours of bemoaning how much I hate editing, the baby was born today.

We finally settled on the first cover though I loved the second one that Heather did as well.  Heather has done her own set of cursing as the file size allowed versus the quality was a dance that was difficult at best.   Heather is a very accomplished artist and each time she creates, I see her grow.  I am so proud to have her as my illustrator.   Right now the book is being added to Amazon Prime, Amazon and Kindle select.  However, for those who have been waiting, it is available now directly from my publisher.

Thank you for all of those that gave me pre-release feedback.  Thank you to my family who has put up with many hours in front of my lap top.  Thank you to Heather for your artwork.  Thank you to Alex who is a wonderful but pushy editor.  Yes, yes, I know.  That is how he was supposed to be!  

For your reading pleasure, I give you:  The Dragon's Geas: Outcast. 

Coming Soon!

Every reader has felt that moment where they did not belong.   Some of us know what it is like to grow up with bullies and suffer at their hands.  Even fewer of us know what it is like when you realize you grew up bigger than the bully that tormented you.  Outcast follows the life of a young Daezun who is suddenly gifted with a power he has yet to learn to control.  Follow the life of Alador as he struggles to find his place in the world.

For your sneak peak, we have given you a glance of young Alador's uncle.  Enjoy!

Sneak Peak

The trader unlocked the chest in excitement for with this find; he would not have to go out in the winter seasons.  He would be able to stay home with his small ones and housemate.   He uncovered the pure glass stone with a flourish and stepped back for he had seen  the desire on the minister’s face. 

 Yet instead of the pleasure and anticipation he had expected, he saw fury.  The trader’s eyes flew open with alarm.

“Do you think me a fool.” Hissed Luthian as he turned around to fully face the trader.   “ Who did you sell its magics too?” Luthian tone was ominous, and his hands began to glow an ominous yellow.

The trader stepped back as if that fury was palpable. “N...no one s..sir. It...it was like that when I bought it. I...I did not think it would hurt the value.  I swear. It has been locked within since I purchased it.” The trader squeaked, dropping to his knees in fear.   He had never seen the Minister angry, but he had heard the tales of those that had crossed him.  He had never heard of any leaving such ire unscathed.  The pulse of the trader’s rapid heartbeat was visible in his neck.

“Bought it where? What other mages were present? “  Luthian demanded of the groveling man.  He slowly circled the man upon the ground much as a wolf circles his injured prey.

“S...smallbrook m..my lord.  The Daezun village of Smallbrook and there weren’t no mages there.”  He put his face to the floor in hopes of appeasing the Minister.     “I.. it was a fair stone, and I will give it to you. I won’t want nothing of it.”  He offered in a panic.  His voice muffled against the floor.

“You fool!”  Shouted Luthian.  “Are you really so stupid?” The sneering loud tone brought a visible wince from the trader upon the floor.   “It is clear because it’s magic has been given.  What miner sold the stone?  I want a name.” Luthian kicked the trader over as hard as he could.  “A name!” He demanded. Luthian's tone suddenly softer, cold, and definitely vicious. Luthian’s hand crackled with the power of the fire he could wield.

“Alador...it was a lad named Alador. Still a middlin and didn’t even know what he had.  I swear it.”  The man was practically sobbing now for even he could feel the power radiating from the Minister though he dared not look.

Luthian paused, his foot now on the Trader’s chest who lay beneath him on the floor. . 
 Smallbrook….. Alador.. Alador.. why did he know that name?  Then it dawned on him. That was one of his brother’s spawn from the project.  The boy had come into his power.  By blood, he had come into power with that stone?  He looked back at the chest with alarm.

He removed his foot and moved to the chest gazing down at it’s contents.  The empty stone now beautiful but powerless.  Who knew how much power the boy had absorbed?   Did the boy even know how to use it?  It was not good that such power was uncontrolled.  However, one benefit of the treaty was if any of Lerdenian blood was found on Daezun lands, the Council had the right to demand they be turned over.   This had suited the Daezun well for they distrusted magic.

His anger cooled some as he stared at the stone in calculation.  The whimpering of the trader still lying where he had left interrupted Luthian’s thoughts. He cursed softly and with a fluid motion turned and released the spell at the groveling man.  He did not even stay to if the trader lived beneath the column of fire that had risen up from his writhing form, the music of his screams pleasing enough.    At the door,  he paused to look at the guard.  “Clean it up and put all the bloodstones in the vault.”  He did not acknowledge the guard's chest salute.  Such response was expected.  Besides, he had more important things on his mind.

He strode down the empty hall in anger and frustration. So much power that had been so nearly his and his nephew had it.  His half-breed, tierless nephew who probably did not even know what gift had been given him.   The stark white halls resounded with the steps of his boots as he strode in anger. “Get me my brother …. Now!”  He bellowed.   The words echoed down the vast empty hall. He did not care who heard. He did not care who acted.  He knew someone would see it done.  If he could not have the power, then he would control the boy!