New Release & Giveaway – Maria Savva’s Delusions & Dreams

My dear friend, London based author Maria Savva, has a newly released collection of short stories.  I had the privilege of  reading an advance copy, and absolutely loved the stories she has woven together.  There is a wonderful mix of genre’s in this collection, ranging from the light-hearted to the emotional.

To quote the official ‘blurb’ for the book:

“Twelve stories of betrayal, greed, revenge, deception, dreams, and courage.

We all struggle to find our way. What you see isn’t necessarily all there is. This collection takes you into the grey area, because the world is never just black and white.

Life is all about perspective. One person’s delusion is another person’s dream.

Includes five bonus stories.”

At the end of this post you will see a Rafflecopter link to the giveaway – 5 different ebooks and 1 signed paperback copy of  ’Delusions & Dreams’ are up for grabs, so don’t forget to click to enter.

You can purchase her new release here:

Amazon UK

Amazon.com 

As part of the book’s release, Maria was kind enough to answer a few questions for me, so take it away, Maria!

1. ‘Delusions & Dreams’ is an impressive collection of seventeen short stories!  Have you been collecting these over the years, or are they all recent?  Did you write any specifically for this collection?

Delusion and Dreams is a collection of new and old stories. Some of them I found on my computer; I wrote years ago. Some I found on a floppy disk, written in the ages when people still rode donkeys to work I updated/edited the older stories. The title story, Delusion and Dreams, is a short story told in four parts. It’s new and I wrote parts II, III, and IV, specifically for this collection. Part I was written a few years ago. I found the handwritten version in a drawer at home, and decided that I liked it. When I typed it up I was inspired to continue the story. In fact, I could have probably written more parts… maybe even a whole novel. The characters in that story have lots to say, and I might revisit them sometime. A few of my beta readers commented that they’d like to read more about them. Similarly, part II of Friends and Neighbours, was written specifically for this collection, whereas the first part of the story was written at least ten years ago. The other new stories are Happy New Year, and Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow. The rest of the stories are old ones that I edited for the collection. The last 5 stories are bonus stories that have been published before, but as single stories, so I wanted to include them in a collection.

2. I really enjoyed the serialization of the ‘Delusions & Dreams’ parts I-IV.  Do you think the story will continue?

As mentioned above, yes, I do think I will revisit this story at some stage. I like the characters. Jessie and Jack are close to my heart. I’d like to tell more of their story in the future. I hope I’ll find some time to maybe continue the story or write a longer book about these characters.

3. ‘Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow’ was very enjoyable – I especially liked the humor involved with the wig.  What inspired you to write that story?

Thanks, Michael. This one started off as a challenge for me because I’d been invited to write a comedy story for a short story collection by a small press publisher. They wanted a story up to about 1,500 words. Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, took on a life of its own once I started writing it, and although there are comedy aspects to it, it’s a bit deeper and some people have told me, also quite sad in parts. It was far too long, at about 5,000 words to be acceptable for the short story anthology that I’d been invited to submit to, so I decided to include it in Delusion and Dreams, and I think it fits in quite well.

4. I notice the collection had a wide variety of themes, ranging from light-hearted (Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow) to darker (Happy New Year).  Is there a theme you enjoy writing more than another?

My genre/theme for a story or novel is dictated by the character that I’m writing about.  For example, Haunted is a crime thriller because Nigel has a dark secret; A Time to Tell  is a family saga, because we are looking at the lives of more than one generation of the same family; Coincidences is more of a mystery because Alice is looking for her father and finding out truths about her past; and Second Chances is more of a romance because Pamela and James are facing up to a difficult time in their relationship.

I have always been a people watcher. I am fascinated by people and why the do what they do, human behaviour. My books and stories will always be character studies more than anything else, because that is the kind of person I am. I like to dig deep below the surface and find out what is really going on underneath. There is always a reason why people do things. Many of my stories developed through my need to know why a character has done something and how they feel, how it affects others around them. I don’t only write in one genre, because I write about life, and life is full of events and characters that don’t fit in to one genre.

5. Your recent novel, ‘Haunted,’ was definitely darker than your other works.  Did you find writing a darker story more difficult?

Emotionally, for me, it was the hardest book I have ever written. I really got into Nigel’s mind and it was dark in there! It took me to some very dark places personally, but I am very happy with how it turned out and how it’s being received by readers. All the sleepless nights were worth it. I didn’t intend to write a psychological thriller, but I ended up writing the darkest kind of psychological thriller possible. Some people have said it’s too dark, but I believe it had to be that dark, anything less would not have done the story justice… It’s a book that explores the mind of a murderer… not for the faint hearted. I don’t think I will be writing such a dark book again soon.

6. Do you think your writing has been influenced by your work as solicitor?

Most definitely. I worked as a solicitor for about 15 years and met hundreds of people from different backgrounds who were all going through different problems. I listened to their stories, some heartbreaking. In my role as a solicitor, I was in a position where people trusted me with their deepest secrets. It’s all eye-opening stuff. I draw from my experiences every time I pick up a pen, I’m sure, not necessarily consciously either. I mean, I’ve never sat down and thought, “why don’t I write a novel based on that client”. I would never do that. But I do find that when I read my books over, I notice tiny character traits that remind me of people I’ve met; maybe something they’ve said that had an impact on me.

In my novels, A Time to Tell and Second Chances, in particular, readers will be able to see where I may have been influenced by my work as a solicitor, but I think that experience touches all of my writing.

Anyone with a creative mind, who works in a customer service type job can leave the office/shop every day with heaps of ideas for stories and books. Meeting different types of people is so important for a writer. We need to create believable characters in our books, so the more people we come into contact with, the better.

7. Do you have a preference between writing short stories and writing full length novels?

I enjoy both. It’s a question of how much time I have available for writing. The thing is, I have a need to write, but I don’t always have enough time to concentrate on a novel-length work of fiction. At those times, short stories are an excellent way to keep the creativity alive. It takes a long time to write a novel and it’s important to be able to devote enough time each day to write when you are writing a novel. I work full time and find that at the moment, it’s easier to write short stories because I can write a short story in one sitting. It takes me maybe an hour to write one. The editing takes twice as long. With a novel it could take me six months when I am writing at least a chapter a day, and then the editing takes about another year.

8. What is your favorite time/place to write – do you need absolute quiet or can your write in the midst of chaos?

My favourite time is at night. I need it to be relatively quiet when I’m writing. I can have the usual buzz of London sounds in the background, but anything more and I lose concentration. I can write anywhere, though. I have been known to write a short story when there is chaos going on all around me.

9. Of all the stories in this collection, do you have a favorite?

They’re all my favourites. Chosen from about twenty stories that could have possibly gone into the collection. If I had to choose a favourite from this collection, I think it would be the Delusion and Dreams series of stories.

10. Do you have any works in process at the moment?

Yes. I have written three new short stories for a new collection which will be called ‘3’. I hope to publish that very soon. It’s just a matter if finding time to edit them. They are a bit creepy, which is nice.

I am also working on my next novel, working title, ‘Illusion’, but I think that may change. It’s a fantasy, but you’ll be sad to hear there aren’t any dragons in it… well not yet, anyway… maybe there will be?? But seriously, it would probably be classed as an urban fantasy. It’s very other-worldly and strange. I’ve written about ten chapters, but haven’t worked on it for a while (since about December), so will have to read over it before I write any more!

 Thank you so much for joining us today, Maria!  

Giveaway Links:
Rafflecopter giveaway

Maria’s Bio:

Maria Savva lives and works in London. She studied Law at Middlesex University and The College of Law. She is a lawyer, although not currently practising law. She writes novels and short stories in different genres, including drama, psychological thriller, and family saga. Many of her books and stories are inspired by her years working as a lawyer, although she has not written a courtroom drama to date. Her most recent novel is Haunted, a crime fiction/psychological thriller. You can find out more about her work at her official website: mariasavva.com

Touch of Darkness

Following is an excerpt from my current work-in-process, a new novel tentatively titled ‘Touch of Darkness’.  My friend and fellow author, Maria Savva, encouraged me to tell the story of Rami, a character from my last novel, ‘Rise of the Shadow.’ Rami is an Egyptian boy of fifteen, who is struggling with his inner demons as he tries to resist the siren call of power.  I hope to have the novel published before the end of this year – I hope you enjoy!

Michael

**Spoiler Alert**  The following excerpt takes place after the events in ‘Rise of the Shadow’ and will give you clues to how that story ended – proceed at your own risk.

 

TOUCH OF DARKNESS

The voice whispered to Rami out of the darkness…

“You killed him…”

“No!” he shouted, trying to spot his accuser in the surrounding inky blackness.  He flailed blindly trying to find something, anything, to grab onto for support.

“He was your friend…”

“But, I couldn’t…” he stammered, tears streaming down his face.

“Murderer…”

“I had no choice!” he screamed, turning in every direction trying to find the voice that taunted him.

“They were innocent…”

“Leave me alone!”

“They died because of you …”

“Who are you?” he shouted.  No one knew he was the one who had murdered old Khafra, the priest, and only one other had seen him kill his best friend, Fer’al.  “It wasn’t me!  I was possessed!” he screamed at the faceless tormentor.  “IT’S NOT MY FAULT!”

He had been possessed by a shadowraith, and was powerless to stop the killings, but worse was the surge of emotion he felt when it happened.  He felt powerful, unstoppable, like he could command the world.  He actually saw the light ebb from his friend’s eyes, and sensed the energy of Fer’al’s spirit as it fled beyond… and he had savored the feeling.  He fled the tomb of Oriannus that night, frightened of what he felt and terrified of what he might become.

There was a sudden flash, and two large, yellow, cat-like eyes appeared before him in the darkness.  Rami stumbled backward, unable to see in the inky blackness.

“You killed them Rami, their blood is on your hands…”

Rami felt something warm and wet dripping from his hands, and he frantically wiped them on his tunic as he continued to stumble blindly, trying to escape the eyes.  He pitched backwards as he felt the stone give way beneath him, and he tumbled into the darkness.  As he fell, the voice dissolved into harsh laughter, echoing all around him.

Then he woke up, screaming.

***

The cool night air drifted in through the half-open flap of the tent, causing Rami to shiver.  He was sitting upright on the small cot, the thin cotton sheet twisted around his limbs from his nocturnal struggle.  Panting, he was bathed in a cold sweat of fear.  In the distance he could hear the bells on the camels clanking softly in the night.  He had been traveling East with the caravan for several weeks now, seeking to put as much distance between him and his past as he could. Not one to socialize, he pitched his tent at the fringe of camp, but he still would have occasional visitors as his traveling companions sought conversation and company.

But that was before the nightmares began.

Several days into the journey, he began having nightmares of being chased through the darkness by someone accusing him of murder.  Someone who knew his secret.  Although the dream always ended with him falling into darkness, he awoke in a greater panic each night.  At first the others had come running to check on him after hearing his screams, but now they stayed away, fearing he was cursed.

He untangled himself from the sheet and lay back down on the cot, breathing deeply and trying to slow his racing heartbeat.  His hand slipped down to his tunic pocket and he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the smooth surface of the stone hidden there.  He had stolen the spiritstone from the tomb of Oriannus, after the wizard, Keegan Whitestone, had trapped a wraith inside of it.  The wraith had possessed Rami, forcing him to murder two innocent people in an attempt to unleash the malevolent spirit of the Shadow on the world.  A warmth emanated from the stone, pulsing with the energy of the spirit forever trapped within.  Rami focused on the stone, and thought he could hear a distant whisper speaking to him from across the depths.  He heard the sound from the first time he touched the stone, and every time since he thought the whispers grew louder until he could almost make out words.

“Power…”

Rami’s eyes snapped open as he realized the whisper was clearer now.  Had the spirit finally spoken to him?

He pulled the smooth, black stone from his pocket and looked at it closely.  “Who are you?” he asked it, his brow furrowed in concentration.  The stone did not respond, though he could still feel the warmth emanating from somewhere deep within.  For now at least, the wraith was still silent.

“Rami?” came a female voice from the entrance to his tent.

Startled, Rami quickly buried the spiritstone in his pocket.  “Yes?”

A slender arm reached through and parted the flaps to the tent, followed quickly by a young girl dressed in the robes and headdress of a nomad.  Her long, black hair was pulled back into a tight braid that snaked down her back to her waist.  She dressed simply, like the other travelers in the caravan, but the strands of gold thread weaved into her braided hair marked her rank.  Olive skinned, and eyes like the darkest of sapphires, Amirah was a beautiful young woman of sixteen, and she possessed every bit of her father’s head for business.  As the daughter of the caravan’s leader, it was her task to keep records for the trip, including sales and purchases of goods, and a final tally of the profit.  She also inherited her father’s fierce loyalty to family, as well as a fiery temper, though she was loathe to admit it.

She stepped into the tent, a look of concern on her face.  “Are you alright?  I thought I heard you scream.”

Rami swore under his breath.  “I’m fine, Amirah,” he said in an exasperated tone.

Since joining the caravan, Rami felt as if Amirah had adopted him like he was a lost puppy.  He had earned his place in the group when he inadvertently saved her father’s coin purse.  Rami saw the thief as he slipped his hand into the man’s pocket.  Acting on instinct, Rami had uttered a curse that paralyzed the thief and saved her father from losing several hundred gold coins.  In his gratitude, the man had allowed Rami to travel with them to the East.  It was rare for a magic user to travel the trade routes, and Amirah’s father thought Rami’s services might be useful.

“It was the night terrors again, wasn’t it?” she asked, her right hand resting on the hilt of an ornate shamshir.  The wide blade of the curved sword glinted in the light of the wisp overhead, and Rami knew she was not one to be trifled with.

Rami looked at the floor, unwilling to meet her gaze.  She had an effect on him like no other; he respected her strength and cunning as a warrior for her father, but the smell of exotic spices that wafted through the room when she entered made his head swim.  He felt weak when this happened, and vulnerable – two feelings he disliked immensely.  He struggled to focus his mind, choosing his words carefully.

“I will be just fine, Amirah, I just need to put as much distance between me and Sakkara as possible.  The nightmares are from my time at the Temple of Set,” he lied, finally meeting her gaze.

She moved closer and sat on a small stool near Rami’s cot.  At first Rami thought the look on her face was just concern for him, but there was more.  There was a burning curiosity behind those eyes – a yearning for knowledge and a thirst for the unknown.  A child of the caravan, she had grown up with merchants, and the sights of the road had become commonplace.  She killed her first raider when she was ten, and had mastered the sword by the time she was fourteen.

“What did you see there, Rami?  What was so terrible that it would haunt you so?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

“You would not understand,” he said sullenly.  “My parents sold me to the temple in exchange for the blessing of the dark deity, Set; since I was seven I have seen things that would cause the Pharos’s royal guard to flee in terror.”

Amirah frowned as she crossed her arms.  “I want to help, Rami,” she said.  “You’ve been having these nightmares more and more frequently,” she said in an annoyed tone.  “Everyone has heard your screams in the middle of the night.  The other merchants are beginning to think you are cursed.”

“Maybe I am,” he said, his eyes losing focus as his mind drifted back to thoughts of the spiritstone.

“Stop it!” she snapped angrily, rising to pace across the tent.  “Do you think you are the only one who has seen bad things in this life?  I killed a man when I was just ten; he was trying to capture me to sell to the slavers.  It was almost a year before the nightmares finally stopped; you just need a task to focus on,” she said, her index figure only a few inches from his nose.

Rami looked up at her, seeing the look of determination in those deep blue eyes.  “I’m sure you are right,” he said with a sigh, even though he knew she was not.  He had been inhabited by a dark spirit – something that would drive most grown men insane – yet somehow he survived.

Amirah folded her arms and looked down at him with an approving smile.  “Good!  Come to my father’s tent in the morning.  We need to organize and catalogue the last crate of scrolls my father traded for from the library in Sakkara.”

Rami nodded, knowing better than to argue with her.  She smiled and turned to go, stifling a yawn with her fist.

“Now try to get some sleep.  We break camp tomorrow to continue eastward,” she said as she bent down and stepped out of the tent and into the night.

Rami fell back onto his cot and snapped his fingers, extinguished the pale wisp hovering near the ceiling, and waited for the nightmares to return.

***

 

Never Argue with a Dragon

I really thought I had ended the ‘Beyond the Veil’ series when I wrote book three, ‘Rise of the Shadow.’ 

Little did I know, however, that one of the characters in that book would demand to have his story told.  I resisted the idea at first, as I thought I had wrapped up the series – all loose ends nicely wrapped up, thank you very much.  But Rami, the fifteen year-old Egyptian boy serving as an acolyte in the Temple of Set had other plans.

You see, when I refused to listen to him rattling around in my head, he went behind my back.  That’s right, he started talking to Idris.  If you have visited my blog or website, you know that Idris is my writing partner.  I freed him from captivity at the Medieval Times gift shop and he now sits perched on my desk, overseeing my writing.

Idris, like most dragons, is extremely well-read and believes himself to be an authority on most topics – especially writing fantasy novels.  He frequently criticizes my dialogue, and when I try to ignore him I am rewarded with singed fingertips.  Mercurial on his best days, he is not always helpful.  One recent discussion went something like this:

“What do you think I should write next?” I asked.

“What do you want to write next?” was his caustic reply.

“You’re not helping, Idris,” I responded testily.  ”I need an idea for a new story.“

“Hmph,” he snorted, blowing smoke rings in my face.  “Think of your own ideas, human.“

Realizing he was in a *mood* I dropped the subject and decided to await inspiration.  That is when Rami started whispering inside my imagination.  He thought the world should hear his story – about what happened after the events in ‘Rise of the Shadow.’

I wasn’t so sure.  So, I did what any good writer would do, and ignored him, hoping my rather fickle muse would find inspiration elsewhere.  The next time I sat down at the computer however, Idris decided to chime in.

“Your next story shall be about Rami,” he said in a matter of fact tone.

“What?”  I replied incredulously.  “No, absolutely not.  I want to write something… different.”

“His story needs to be told,” he responded icily.  “You have started him down a dark path, and it needs resolution.”

“But…”

“You heard me.”

*sigh*  ”Fine.”

And so, not one to argue with one as wise as Idris [he made me write that...], I am now about 7,000 words into what is becoming a new novel focused on Rami.

Several new characters have been introduced, including Amirah, the sixteen year-old daughter of a caravan leader.  She is a fierce warrior with a head for business, having been raised by her father on the trade routes to the east.  She is accompanied by her bodyguard, a burly, foul-tempered hobgoblin named Halvar.  Readers will also get to see more of the dragon Shai’tan, or ‘Firestorm’ as he is known among humans, who was first introduced in the short story ‘The Amaranthine Flask.’

I’ve no idea how long it will be, or even how it will end.  I’m just letting the story take me along.

Michael

The Amaranthine Flask

A friend and fellow author, Maria Savva, was beta-reading ‘Rise of the Shadow’ for me and suggested the name ‘amaranthine flask’ for a magical object in the story.  While I didn’t use her suggestion for that item, I absolutely loved the term and could not let it go unused.  Following is an excerpt from my newest short story, ‘The Amaranthine Flask’:

 

Khamsin stood on the edge of the flat tower roof, looking out across the sun baked city of Sakkara.  She shielded her eyes against the harsh noonday sun as she scanned the horizon.

Where is that damn dragon?  I summoned him twenty minutes ago!

She pounded her fist against the rough, sandstone parapet as she fumed in anger.  Although she was well over three hundred years old, she appeared to be in her early fifties, her long black hair streaked with gray.  Harsh lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth, the product of years of scowling, had defied her attempts to erase them.  A fiendishly beautiful woman in her youth, she was also a powerful dark witch, and not one to be trifled with.

She paced back and forth, her jet black robes shimmering in the sunlight as she waited for the dragon to answer her call.  As she passed the small window set into the stone wall of the minaret that rose even higher above the tower, she saw her reflection, her hand tracing the lines and creases along her cheek with her fingers.

I will finally win this battle once and for all…

***

The bright sun glinted off the giant golden dragon’s scales as he glided over the hot sands of the desert outside Sakkara, Egypt.  The warmth radiated throughout his body and reveled in the energy coursing through his veins.  Tucking his wings close to his sides, he dove downward at a steep angle, a smile of satisfaction crossing his toothy face as thunder echoed around him when he broke the sound barrier.  At the last possible moment, he spread his great wings and leveled out, causing a fierce sandstorm to flare into existence as it chased his trail across the dunes.  He tore across the sky leaving destruction in his wake, as the hot winds and static discharge of his passing toppled several small buildings on the outskirts of the city.  He slowed as he reached the protective wall of the city, knowing he would invoke the wrath of the temple priests if he created too much havoc.  Shai’tan, or ‘Firestorm’ as the humans called him, was late.  His mistress had summoned him, and though he loathed to be in her service, he had no choice but to appear as she had enslaved him when he was but a hatchling.  Shai’tan’s egg had been stolen from the nest by a raider, who then sold it on the black market.  The egg had passed through the hands of several merchants until Khamsin became aware of its presence in Sakkara.  Knowing how valuable a dragon would be, she had quickly acquired the egg and proceeded to hatch it.

His mistress, or “Mother Khamsin,” as he knew her, was the first sight Shai’tan remembered.  To ensure his loyalty, she placed a silver chain around his neck laced with wards that made him susceptible to her magic.  A shock that would normally be deflected by his thick scales was instead magnified, so as to cause him great pain.

She ruled Sakkara and the surrounding area, and was feared by all for her cold, ruthless grip on power.  The city had descended into chaos after the murder of old Khafra, the temple priest of the god Horus.  He had been killed at the altar in the temple of the god Set, the sworn enemy of Horus.  Although Master Ammon, the high priest of Set, had vowed to find Khafra’s killer, he never had, and many began to whisper that Ammon himself had slain the old man.  As the accusations grew, an undeclared war erupted between the temples of Set and Horus.  In the anarchy that followed, Shai’tan’s mistress rose to power, quickly undermining or killing those who opposed her.

He banked to the right and climbed slightly as her tower in the center of town came into view.  Originally built for one of the pharaohs, the delicate spire rose high above Sakkara, giving the occupant a stunning view.  The tower was built on an artificial island in the Nile River, which snaked through the middle of the city.  Shai’tan could see his mistress pacing at the top of the tower as he gave a powerful downward flap of his leathery wings and shot skyward.  He spiraled upward around the tower and turned sharply as he spread his wings and settled skillfully in the middle of the tower’s flat roof.

Khamsin glared as she walked towards the dragon, his bulk dwarfing her as she approached.  He lowered his head, bowing down before her in a sign of respect, or at least acquiescence.  She had raised him from a hatchling, teaching him magic and the ways of wizards, but never showing him affection or even respect.  Quick to anger, she had a sharp tongue and was unforgiving if he made a mistake.  He often wondered what it would be like to be free of her overbearing will, but the thick silver chain around his neck ensured he would never stray too far.

“Where have you been?” she asked angrily.  “I summoned you over twenty minutes ago!”

“I am sorry, Mother Khamsin,” he rumbled, staring at the stones beneath her feet.  “I came as quickly as I could when you summoned me.  I was far out in the desert, hunting…”

“Bah!” she snapped, cutting him off before he could finish. “Spare me your excuses, Firestorm,” she said, using his human nickname which she knew he hated.  She snapped her fingers and a violent shock coursed through the silver chain hanging around his neck.  He winced slightly, but had learned long ago not to cry out no matter how bad the pain.

“I raised you from an egg, and this is how you repay me.  Have I not trained you well?  Have I not taught you magic and educated you in the ways of wizards?”

“Yes, Mother Khamsin,” Shai’tan said respectfully.  “You have trained me well, and I owe you my life.”

“Hmph!” she snorted, as she crossed her arms.  “Then stop cowering before me and stand tall!  I have a task for my brave dragon.”

Shai’tan obediently rose and sat with his tail wrapped around him, like some giant housecat, tendrils of smoke curling from his nostrils.  Khamsin crossed her arms and looked off into the distance to the East.

“Have you ever heard of the old wizard, Kronos?” she asked.

The dragon nodded his great horned head.  He had indeed heard of the old wizard – a hermit that lived alone in his castle, forsaking the company of others for his books and potions.  No one had seen him in over a hundred years.  “I have, Mother Khamsin, but surely he does not still exist?”

“Oh, but he does, my pet,” she said quietly with a smile as she turned to face him.  “And you are going to find him.  His tower is located five hundred leagues to the East, high in the mountains.”

Shai’tan looked down at the witch, so small and seemingly insignificant before him, yet so powerful with her control of the dark arts.  It would be such a simple task to crush her beneath his talons, or incinerate her with his flame.

No, I cannot harm the one who has raised me from a hatchling…

He was jolted from his thoughts as she snapped her fingers again and sent another powerful shock through his chain.

“Pay attention you dolt!” she barked.

“Forgive me, my Mistress,” he said as he bowed his head.

“That’s better. Now, I want you to fly to the wizard’s castle and fetch me a potion.”

“A potion?”

The witch raised her hand, causing the dragon to wince involuntarily.  “Yes, a potion.  I want you to acquire the Amaranthine Flask for me.”

“And the price you are willing to pay, Mistress?”

She turned and walked over to the parapet again, gazing into the distance.  “Oh, I doubt he will sell it to you,” she said simply.  “The Flask has been sought by many over the centuries, and yet all who seek it are refused.  You see it will not only restore the beauty of my youth, once restored my youth will never fade.  I shall be eternally young and beautiful; no longer will I have to bear the thought of an old woman’s face looking back at me from the mirror.”

Puzzled, Shai’tan carefully walked up behind the witch and looked down at her.  “And if he refuses your request for the Amaranthine Flask?”

“Kill him.”

***

[end of excerpt]

“The Amaranthine Flask” – a short story for 99¢ - is available on Amazon here.

New Release – ‘Rise of the Shadow’

 

 

I’m pleased to say the third and final(?) book in the ‘Beyond the Veil’ series has been released.  ’Rise of the Shadow’ follows Keegan Whitestone as he tries to stop a murder – 5,000 years in the past.  Keegan must stop an old enemy, who has returned from the abyss with the aid of the Shadow.

Some familiar characters will return, such as Keegan, Nisha, Acamar, and of course, Ms. Hoskins.  There are also some new faces in this novel as well, namely Rami, the young acolyte who serves in the temple of the old god Set.  The seventh son of ten children, Rami was given to the priests of Set in exchange for the god’s blessing upon their family.  An adept student, being abandoned by his family has made him eager to please Master Ammon, the high priest of Set.  His best friend is Fer’al, a novice acolyte who is constantly playing pranks and getting into trouble.

In ‘Rise of the Shadow’ you will learn the true nature of Ms. Hoskins, who is much more than she appears, and you will find out the origin of the most evil necromancer to walk the Earth.

Now available on Amazon!

 

The Next Big Thing

My friend and fellow author, Maria Savva, was kind enough to tag me in a challenge called The Next Big Thing.  As this gives me an excuse to write, I owe her a ‘thank you’ for extending the invitation.

The rules of the challenge are:

1. Answer 10 questions about my current WIP (Work-In-Progress)
2.  Tag five other writers and link their blogs so we can all hop over and read their answers.

The questions are:

1. What is the working title of your book?
2. Where did the idea come from for the book?
3. What genre does your book fall under?
4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
9. Who or What inspired you to write this book?
10. What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

This is going to be fun!  So here are my answers:

1.  My upcoming novel is called, ‘Rise of the Shadow’.  I won’t say that is a ‘working title’ as I am 99% certain about it.  Previously it was going to be called ‘Blackstone’ after a character that was going to be in it, however my story has completely changed now – for the better, I hope.

2.  Oddly enough, the idea for this book came from my previous two books.  There were simply too many loose ends that I felt needed to be explained – plus I knew I could have some fun exploring a couple of minor characters from the first two books.

3.  Genre:  Unfortunately, since dragons have not decided to show themselves in real life, this book would be categorized as ‘fantasy’.

4.  Who would play my characters in a movie?  Sadly, I have given this a LOT of thought – as I find that when I am writing, I actually picture the characters in my mind’s eye.  As a result, I draw from television and movies to ‘cast’ my novels as it where so they can take place in my imagination while I am striving to get the words on the page.  So here they are, in no particular order:

Dame Judi Dench, would play Ms. Hoskins

John Rhys-Davies would be perfect as Acamar Wycroft

 

Alfred Molina would excel as Alexander Ducat

Catherine Zeta Jones would be cast as Nisha Black

Ian McShane would voice Nekk’ar, the dragon spirit

Benedict Cumberbatch would play Keegan Whitestone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.  A one sentence synopsis of my book is:  How do you stop a murder, five-thousand years in the past?

6.  To quote my friend, Maria Savva, “I am self publishing this book.  Indie authors are the best!”  Besides, I’m just not sure the mainstream publishers are quite up to my standards.

7.  How long did it take?  Well, I’m not done yet, if that tells you anything.  I started writing in earnest about April, and it is now August and I’m done with eight chapters.  My hope is to have it finished, edited and polished by January 2013. (fingers crossed)

8.  I would compare this to ‘The Ring of Solomon’ by Jonathan Stroud, I think.  Although with the dragons and other magical elements, they could probably be compared with the ‘Harry Potter’ or ‘Eragon’ series as well.

9.  Although I thought I wanted to continue the series with a third book, I must credit my friend, Maria Savva, for helping push me over the proverbial edge, as it were.  In her review and comments on book two ‘Bloodstone – The Guardian’s Curse’, she commented that she felt the ending left open the possibility for a third book.  When I read her review, that comment reaffirmed to me that a third book was needed to wrap everything up.

10.  In this novel, you will learn much more about the mild mannered caretaker, Ms. Hoskins.  You will also learn the origins of the most feared necromancer to ever walk the Earth.

Okay, here are the 5 authors who I would like to challenge:

1.  Joel Kirkpatrick

2.  Lindsay Buroker

3.  Maeve Greyson

4.  R J McDonnell

5.  Al Boudreau

A Dragon’s Curse

For those of you who are not fortunate enough to know me yet, I am a dragon.  A fierce warrior and powerful magic user, I have roamed this world for centuries.  Like many of my race, I also have a scholarly side, and as you can see I am quite fond of books.  Now, what you may not know is that I am under an enchantment – why else do you think I would spend my time perched upon a stack of books with a sword in my claws? (We dragons don’t need swords of course, unless perhaps to use them to clean between our teeth).  The spell was placed upon me several hundred years ago by a conniving little sneakthief of a wizard.  He wasn’t even a very good wizard, but he caught me by surprise.  Apparently he was upset because I had eaten his cat – but I couldn’t help myself as I was quite hungry, and the fat furball was in the wrong place at the wrong time (honestly, what would you have done?).

As part of my penance, I was cursed to serve as the familiar for a writer.  Now just who this writer would be, I knew not, rather I was told he (or she) would find me in due course.  And so I sat, counting the hours in a display case, watching hordes of tourists scurrying about, pressing their faces against the glass and peering in at me (you humans truly are an odd lot!).  Finally, after what seemed like ages, a man asked my jailer (I believe he called him a cashier) to examine me.  Much to my dismay, this man with white hair and beard looked me over closely, examining my beautiful scales, fearsome teeth and claws – you get the idea.  Finally I could take no more and I spoke – or tried to speak – to him.

Either pay my ransom and free me from this prison, or put me down!

Now, to be honest, I never expected him to hear me.  But to my surprise, the man looked directly at me and, with a twinkle in his eyes, answered me!

“It would be my pleasure – I would certainly never want to cross a dragon, especially one so magnificent as you,” he said with a smile.

I smiled, or would have if it weren’t for this blasted curse, in spite of myself.  Obviously this human was intelligent, having recognized what a fine specimen of dragon I truly am.

So he paid my rather exorbitant ransom and took me to his home in some strange land called ‘Ken-tuck-y” or something like that.  I was then placed in a position of honor (as I should be) next to the man’s computer.  That was when this rather clever human spoke to me again!

“What is your name?”

None of your business!  We dragons do not share our true names with the lesser races.  If you must, you may use my human-given nickname, which is ‘Shimmerscale.’

“Look, Shimmerscale, I need your help.  I’m an author…”

Oh damn!  I’ll kill that wizard if I ever get free of this curse…

“I write about magic, wizards and dragons, and I need inspiration,” he said earnestly.

Not my problem.

“But, you’re a truly magnificent dragon – surely you could help me with my stories.  You would want my tales about dragons to be accurate, yes?”

Hmph. (he did have a point)

“If you will agree to help me, I will grant you special power.”

Now he had my attention – was this man a wizard as well?

I’m listening, human.

“Supervise my writing.  Help inspire me to tell stories of magic and fantasy.  If you agree, I will grant you the power to edit my work – what you do not like, I will delete.  You may revise, edit and criticize to your heart’s content.  I do not give this power lightly – I am entrusting you with my work.”

Now this was an unexpected turn of events.  I knew as part of my curse I would have to serve as a familiar for a writer, but this man was giving me power over both him and his writing.  Perhaps this might work after all.  I would guide his hand and help him tell the true story about those of my race – no longer would the world simply hear the wizards’ side of the truth.

I will accept your terms, human.  I will help guide your stories and I will critique your work, but you must swear you will listen and heed my advice – ignore me at your peril.  Do you understand?

The man smiled and nodded in agreement, acknowledging my superior intellect (at least that’s what I took the nod to mean).

“There is just one thing…”

That’s the trouble with you humans and the other lesser races.  Only the elves are worse at dragging out negotiations after you think you are finished.  We dragons are much more to the point, as it should be.

What?

“If I am to truly trust you, then you must trust me.  I wish to know your true name.”

The human had a point; he was giving me power over him, even though I am cursed to be his familiar anyway.  He obviously recognizes dragons as superior creatures (which we are).  Perhaps this partnership will work after all.

My name is Idris.

The man smiled and began typing away at his keyboard.  To this day, I supervise his writing and give him hints and suggestions about how to structure his stories.  I help guide him to the truth about dragons and the nature of magic.  I only wish he and his family didn’t have quite so many cats.