Which cover grabs your attention?

I'm thinking of changing House of Valla's cover. Usually I don't put people on my covers because I prefer to allow the reader's imagination to create the characters' features, but maybe for this one?

Mother Earth's jewellery

 

Chapter 10: Ethereal Musician

 

Alayna lives as a recluse in the giant redwood forest far from prying eyes. When intruders break into her home with the intention of robbing and using her, a man with vivid green eyes becomes an unlikely saviour. The instant they see each other their fates are sealed. Ben and Alayna have the kind of attraction that reeks of a celestial mandate.

 She realises what Ben truly is, but he’s too young to know his real self. She sends him away to discover his destiny, telling him to play the music able to move stars, and awaits his return. Their attraction, though, is so visceral and overwhelming that Ben comes back again and again, each time finding it harder to leave the only woman who has ignited his soul.

Alayna feels it too, because Ben possesses a kiss able to break worlds. His green eyes are an ethereal magnificence amid the redwoods, lighting the way for love, music, dreams and destiny to mark their paths, but such a connection has a price.

Ten

  

A VIOLIN RESTED in its case on her desk.

Ben stopped dead when he saw it.

His heart had thundered during the night and his blood had raced. Every emotion hidden and unknown had surfaced until flesh was soul and time was as ancient and unknowable as the cosmos. She emptied him from the inside out and then she remade him.

That quickening was now as nothing as to what assaulted every sense he possessed.

A violin.

Music.

In the filtered light of this new day, he approached it as if it was a viper. Already his hand reached to take possession. The contradiction between thought and action created theories of chaos in his mind.

The desired object was in his hands.

This was a work of art, an instrument lovingly crafted.

An ache grew in his gut.

Alayna paid a lot of money for this. Why?

“To hear you play,” she whispered behind him.

He did not move. He simply stared at what he held in his hands. The ache sought release.

“You know yourself now …”

“Do I?” he croaked.

“You have a fair idea and it will become clearer as you move forward.”

He swallowed. “So?” But those answers were of less importance to the growing pressure within him.

“Knowing means leaving, Ben. You returned to understand that … and to accept it. You must go forward, never back.”

Her hands were on his shoulders, warm through the thin shirt he’s shrugged on to stave off some of the chill. He took great comfort from her touch, now. Every word she spoke was only truth. This was finally relief.

“We have an ages difference that won’t hold up in this society,” she murmured.

He turned then. “Ages?” he said, his gaze intent.

She did not blink. “Yes. Ages.”

“How old are you?” The words tore from him. Suspicion could now become fact.

Even now she wouldn’t give him that. No lies, but not straightforward fact either. “Too old. Very old. We are old souls both.”

She intended to leave him with only his suspicions. She intended to keep to the rumor of what souls were capable of.

He dug deeper. “How old am I? I do not mean my soul.”

Alayna blinked. “That would be the real question, wouldn’t it?”

And that answered it for him.

Smiling then, he lifted the violin to his shoulder, tucked it under his chin, sensing the knots unraveling inside. Already notes floated into his blood.

“And you want to hear me play before I hit the long road.”

Her sigh settled over him like a warm blanket. “It will be your final gift to me.”

He lifted the bow. It settled whisper soft onto the strings. Fingers found the right chords automatically. This he knew; this was his true self.

The first angelic note soared, and every bird in the forest fell silent to listen.

Tears coursed freely over Alayna’s cheeks.

Worlds far, far, away knitted back together as the flows of energy flew along the musical curves of creation itself.

It was her final gift to him as well.

ETHEREAL MUSICIAN

Malapropism

 

Wise words

 

Caturday: Life without cats ...

 

Audiobook Reviews

While getting the links for EURUE, had a bit of a scroll through my other audiobooks, and found a few reviews I hadn't noticed before:

All audiobook links on AUDIO BOOKS page 

EURUE's audiobook is now live!

It took a while to get this one out there, but EURUE is finally available 🏆💝

When I put EURUE up for narration, I'd decided to go with a different accent, rather than a 'proper' English one because a Forgotten World needed something 'other', in my opinion. so, I am beyond pleased that Chiquito came along!

Do have a listen 🎧

Elaina Davidson · Eurue: What Has My Brother Done?

Food funnies

 

Feckful & Aeolist

 

Collages: OK, so the author pic is a few years old :)

 

Domovoi

 

Prickle :)

 

Good idea!

 

Lol, unicorn farts!

 

Chapter 10: Ancient Illumination

Back when I started the Chapter 10 excerpts, I told you, once the Lore books were completed, I'd move to those of my books that are lengthy enough to have a chapter 10. This includes Ilfin of Arc, TINSAL, Ethereal Musician, Gabriel, Latticework, The Orphan, The Potter, and Ancient Illumination, which is today's excerpt. Enjoy!

Fire spews and ice follows. The world Drakonis is near death and all life has fled. Except for Brennan, the thief who hears mysterious directions to Castle Drakon on the wind, and brothers Bastian and Cole, who choose to follow her. Then there’s Halley, an exotic dancer from the burning cities, and Audri, who refuses to speak.

 These five are the last and it is their task to ensure at least memory remains, or Drakonis will be eternally forgotten. To ensure this, they must find Castle Drakon.

In a grotto under the ice they discover three others alive and before the warmth of a fire hear of a mighty legend. Unravelling its mysteries could lead to a way off a dying world. An ancient light will illuminate their path.

Chapter 10

 Shadows have Presence

  

Of course we cannot determine night or day while asleep under an ice shelf, but the time comes when we are all again aware.

This is our third day into the journey and we are still four. Perhaps there is no parallel.

Our conundrum now is whether to go forward with the tunnel, or go up. Audri’s marker stone does not react for either, thus both directions are the right ones.

I suggest we go forward until we hit rock. At least that will mark the end of ice. With alacrity the others agree, and we proceed with the delving after having something to eat.

We hit rock within an hour. And thus we go up.

An absolute surprise awaits us when we break through to the surface.

The sun is shining.

  

We are like creatures caught in headlights.

We freeze in position and stare at the impossible glare highlighting us.

“Down!” Bastian says, first to find his wits, and we cower swiftly.

Still, that achieves little, for we are dark dots in a white landscape of both ice and light.

Castle Drakon towers over us. Bathed in light.

It cannot be sunshine. It is therefore sorcery.

“Two can play this game,” Audri mutters, and begins to murmur words under her breath. Strung together, they sound like chants.

There is no entry into the castle, according to legend. It is sealed eternally. There are no doors visible on the outside, according to Galint back in the grotto. And, it appears, these two keys I carry with me have nothing to do with actual locks.

We have to get in. The only way to hide now is to enter the monolith towering over us, and Audri has realised that.

She has control over the elements, she claims, but other than snapping embers into flame in the grotto, we have not seen proof of it. The first night in these highlands she said she dare not employ her gifts for fire, for it would reveal us. Last night no doubt she thought it safer to hold herself in check. She could have melted the ice, I suppose, but that would have seen us dead in a heartbeat.

Is she able to manipulate rock?

I feel Bastian at my back and wish we lived in a different time. I notice Cole sending us a look. He cannot be jealous, because we were never that way inclined with each other, but it is a strange look. I wonder what is going on in his mind. How far will he go to survive?

Then none of that matters.

An arch has appeared in the rock before us. The bizarre light that emanates from Castle Drakon overhead picks out the planes of a stairway within going up.

“It’s a real doorway,” Audri says in a hoarse voice, as if strained beyond bearing, “made of solid rock. I can’t hold it at bay long. Are we going in or not?”

Cole answers for us. He sets foot to the first step beyond the arch. We follow. Audri brings up the rear, muttering once more, probably closing the arch to hide our point of entry.

Darkness envelopes us, but I know I experience elation. We are inside when everyone said there was no way to enter.

It smells of antiquity here and has the aroma of rampant magic. What else is there to do but employ another light stone? This is the second to last one, but we have to see to climb.

In the glow that results, Audri clutches at her throat and falls to her knees. “Can’t … breathe …” She falls sideways, landing awkwardly on the stairs … staring starkly up.

I gasp for air myself, but it isn’t a manipulation as she has suffered; it is sorrow. Audri, pretty supportive friend, is dead.

Between one eye blink and the next.

Bastian slaps a hand over my mouth and shakes his head emphatically at Cole. Do not make a sound, his actions imply.

He stares up into the gloom beyond the stone’s light, there where the stairs seems to level off. A moment later he holds up two fingers. Clearly, two await our unwary entry into the halls of Castle Drakon itself.

We stare at each other, then down at Audri, and then upwards. We do not make a sound, but it is beyond clear that we have no choice. We shall meet whatever awaits us with whatever means and courage we possess.

I kneel beside Audri, kiss her forehead, close her eyes, and remove her marker stone. Bastian and Cole briefly each grip one of her hands, and then we rise together and start climbing ancient timeworn steps carved from rock.

When we reach the top, we discover a solid iron door. Strange glyphs mark the surface, as if in warning. Bastian pushes at it, very gently. I think we expect it not to budge at all, but it swings soundlessly open. Now, if that was a warning etched into the metal, it is less than effective.

Cole peers to the left and shakes his head at us. Carefully he steps in and peers around the opened door to the right. He shrugs. He sees no one.

Bastian drags him back, takes the lighted stone from him and tosses it over his shoulder. He holds up two fingers again, nodding his head emphatically.

Thus, we cannot see the watchers, but they are there and they are waiting for us.

What to do now?

There is light beyond the door, enough to reveal a stone wall opposite and a black floor. It’s dusty, and Bastian points to where there is a clear footprint in the powder. It reveals a shiny substance underneath, and it also reveals one of those waiting for us is huge.

Right. So what do we do?

We stare at each other in consternation.

And then it comes to me. If Audri was right about Wyvern blood returning during calamity in order to restart Drakonis as civilisation, there is absolutely no way they will harm me. And, and I wince as I think this, I have the last two with me bearing the Riginar blood. One of them will be my mate, according to their thinking. They will not cause harm to come to either, not until a babe is conceived.

I swallow.

It is a mighty risk.

When I look at Bastian, he winks at me. Clearly the same thoughts have occurred to him. He spreads his hands, asking if we’re going to chance it on a rumour from a temple legend.

What else is there to do?

We can’t stagnate at the top of ancient stairs because fear holds us back. We will be dead in less than three days anyway.

I glance over my shoulder a final time, but Audri is lost to view. Farewell, friend.

I grin then at Bastian … and step boldly into the passage.

Cole hisses, he loves doing that, always has, but Bastian pulls him along with him as he follows. Audri’s stone tells me to go right. We do so, treading carefully in the dust, lest one of us slips. Bastian gazes over his shoulder, only the once.

“Two behind us,” he mutters.

Then he whispers in Cole’s ear, no doubt telling him what we figured out. Cole gives both of us a wide-eyed stare, and grins.

“Can you see them?” I ask, leading the way.

“Feel only,” Bastian responds. “But they’re big.”

Many silent minutes later we come to an arch without a door. Beyond is a large space lit by flames in an ancient hearth. There are multiple alcoves, but we cannot discern detail.

As we search the chamber from the arch, wondering whether to enter or go on, there is a sense of pressure building behind us. All three of us snap around to find shadows coalescing. The fabric of light and dark appears to be taking on tangible presence and growing in size and intent by the second. Suddenly this massed presence rushes at us, and we stumble in our haste to escape it into the fire lit chamber.

Cole falls, Bastian flails, and I am shoved forward by an unseen hand.

A door slams with an almighty crash. There was no door in that arch, and now it has one and it has locked us into this space.

Cole hurtles at it and bounces back.

Right. We are trapped.

We are inside Castle Drakon and everyone knows we are here.

  

Nothing works now.

The heat stones are inactive. Cole attempts to burn the door down with them, and the last light stone is no longer white. We hear a crackling sound and find it reduced to a papery brown object.

Audri’s marker stone, when I check it, disintegrates into blue sprinkles. We dare not open the pouch with the last black sustenance stones, just in case the act of ignoring them ensures their continued existence.

“I bet the key stones work, though,” Cole mutters, and he is probably right. They are still needed. No one will interfere with those … yet.

After investigating the shadowy alcoves, we understand two things. One is that we are meant to stay here, for there is a bed awaiting us, as there is food under metal domes upon a table, and two is that we are meant to sleep together - there is only the one bed.

Bastian stares at it a long while before saying, “Brennan, something will force this upon us if we don’t do so willingly.”

“You’re saying Audri had it right about the blood thing?” Cole frowns.

I know Cole; he hates the thought of someone telling him what to do.

Bastian nods and sits on the edge of the big bed. “Dad told me every Riginar born is inducted into the temple, because we have special genetics Drakonis requires. I forgot about all that until Audri started speaking. While we haven’t needed to hide our last names as the Wyverns have had to, we were all of us marked at birth and told to keep the mark ever hidden.”

“I thought it was a birthing defect,” Cole says.

“It is at birth, but it is placed upon us, it isn’t a natural mark. Why did I forget all this?” Bastian mutters.

“Life,” I say. “You had to survive after your dad died and keep an eye on cat burglar Cole here. A mark on your skin is of little consequence then.”

“True.” He meets my eyes. “I don’t like being forced.”

“And I don’t like having witnesses around,” I say.

The smile he bestows upon me then races my blood. “Are we on the same page? We refuse to do as is expected?”

I want to kiss him and I’m sure it shows in my face, for his eyelids flicker a bit. “Look, don’t touch, I say.”

He laughs under his breath. “Cole was right all those years ago. He said then you would never turn your back on what is right.”

Cole laughs aloud. “I remember! Brennan brought me home and you thought she was a bad influence, hauling your little brother about on rooftops.”

“A burglar and purse snatcher isn’t actually on the side of right, Bastian,” I murmur.

“Why did you do so?” he asks, his blue gaze bright.

I shrug. “To eat.” It was as simple as that, then.

“And had Cole not come home with ill-gotten gains, I would have starved. It was necessity, Brennan, not right or wrong.”

“It was fun, too,” Cole laughs.

I grin his way. We had fun, yes, many days, many nights. We also nearly lost our lives on many occasions. My smile vanishes as I remember that.

Cole shrugs, perhaps thinking the same.

“Destroy the keys, Brennan,” Bastian suggests. “Any choices we make now must be ours to make, not at the will of an old manipulation.”

Someone is listening and watching, no doubt, and that someone must have heard all that was said, including that final statement. Someone would come soon to enforce his or her will.

I have moments only.

Nodding at Bastian, I swiftly remove the two transparent stones from the pouch and hurtle across the space from bed to fireplace, lifting my arm as I run. Skidding, I launch the two cold objects directly into the blaze, and fall to my knees there … watching, hoping, waiting …

A bright flash blinds us.

And then darkness takes us.

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The basis of human expression

 

Your Caturday smile

 

SACRED SITES II

 4 of 14 sites

Favourites :)

I asked for a ragdoll kitten and a ridgeback (AIart) because my girl Isis and my boy Lex were my favourites in days gone by. The pics are pretty close!

 

Mot Juste & Loganamnosis

 

The origin of the 'wink'

 

Collage: A Red Day

 

Arcana: Audio Book Omnibus

All links on the AUDIO BOOKS page 💖

Now in review: Eurue's audio book

 

Chapter 10: My Wishing Well

BOOK OF SAGES

 

A path is a way especially designed for a particular use … it is also a course of conduct.

 

When in doubt, act. Action frequently leads to decision.

 

Beware the honeyed tongue of rulers too long in power. Listen to the words behind words and choose then your own path. Beware, however, of sedition, hold your tongue.

 

Fortitude is the most terrible of all virtues.

 

Tell the truth, traveller, or you create issues hard to overcome later.

 

Words of power should never be underestimated.

 

What is fair? Answer that, and you solve the riddle of universes.

 

News of arrival, when wished for and hoped for, spreads swiftly and requires no magic.

 

 

A young soul cannot distinguish between a lesson and an insult.

 

The most beautiful is also the most intangible. Often true beauty resides only in memory.

 

Even in utter darkness is the path present.

 

Freedom is more a state of mind than a condition of circumstances. Of course there are factors that need be in place to ensure the process, whether physical or emotional, and yet freedom is of and for the soul first before all else. In darkness and confinement a soul can yet experience freedom, although few will know ... and few will agree. There is another type of freedom and it is flight. Free of gravity a soul is also free of cares.

 

Even after all has changed, time has a way of bringing forth the familiar. One day you look around you and remark, “Nothing has changed.”

 

Trust your mind to reveal the truth. See it, feel it.

 

Every desert is special, for in its lifelessness it contains the secrets to life.

 

The wise tell us home is where one’s heart is. This, I believe, is to still the longing when one is in an unfamiliar port. Home is home, is it not? The stone, the earth, the sky above, the rustling tree of our first steps, of growing up ... of leaving. If one is blessed, one may return ... if only for a moment.

 

The surprise of fresh surroundings engenders insight.

 

Every plan feels like the best strategy, but every plan has an alternative and each can twist out of control. The best-laid plans refer to those sketched in brief, ever allowing for the unforeseen.

 

Do not attempt to inhabit another’s skin.

 

When a team functions in tandem, it is an effective tool.

 

Nothing exists in a vacuum. What this statement means has little to do with the likelihood of life in an airless space. It means all is connected, that function results from mutual reliance.

 

One cannot wander old paths without finding them altered.

 

Subterfuge, whether a small lie or a large manipulation, eventually turns back on the wielder.

 

What is true justice? If sentience is subjective, how does one measure true justice?

 

Every journey is different. Choose wisely before you embark.

 

Profess a willingness to change … and discover it is not as easy as belief engenders.

 

Thought is matter. A void, therefore, cannot ever be empty.

 

Magic in the most unlikely places has the power to astonish.

 

We are made for opposites. We are part of the multiverse, after all, and it cannot function without action and reaction.

 

Listen to the old and wise. They have experience youth cannot fathom.

 

The best advice anyone is able to share, when advice is sincere and may be regarded as less than criticism, is to be yourself always. On the other hand, to follow it, you have to know yourself.

 

Memory is subjective, personal, misleading, encompassing, and is the stuff of life. We are because we think, yes, but we are also the result of the years, events and experiences residing in memory. Without it we are born anew, and it is hard to start building a personality again … can one ever be the same?

 

Friendship is first in the call to duty. Aiding a friend is aiding yourself.

 

Catharsis is an intangible gift, and yet is a gift, a healing of the soul.

 

Same sex partners are as ancient as time. Many frown upon this and others are not affected. The truth is no one has the right to judge and there is no wrong where love is supreme. And now the codicil, reader. High rank sorcery is dangerous to wielder and bystander, and should thus ever be contained. But who are we to judge? Step forward, however, when two powers seek to meld, whatever the ideal or purpose, for then the danger is manifold. Unfortunately, for manipulators of the realms of sorcery, this means keeping same sex partners apart.

 

The past is with us always. We are the product of experience.

 

Oblivion takes many forms, although one can say only a minority attains it consciously. Sleep is a form of oblivion, but is regarded as imperfect, for the unconscious is more active during that period. When drugs are used, the user claims oblivion, and yet this cannot be. Too much changes within for that to be true. Death is not oblivion, for new journeys begin. What, then, are the forms of oblivion?

 

Coma can mimic oblivion, but this is rare. Degeneration of brain tissue heralds oblivion, a physical enforcing. Forgetting is oblivion.

 

Not knowing something is oblivion. Unawareness of truth is also regarded as oblivion.

 

Freedom must be paid for, whether by blood or terrible understanding. Freedom, true freedom, cannot be borne by weaklings.

 

How do you grapple with slippery nuances and then hold onto a facet long enough to affect the change required to alter a situation or perception? Faith, reader, and self-belief.

 

Delirium isn’t oblivion, but it can feel that way to the healthy mind.

 

To forget is sometimes the easier option. This is akin to stating ‘ignorance is bliss’.

 

Forgetting is also difficult to overcome. A state not only physical, but emotional, and it is emotion that creates the greatest obstacle.

 

A dual nature is of no use when evil is paramount. Duality, then, sickens the vessel.

 

Everything is relative, given sufficient distance, whether of actual miles or the march of time. Hark to that, friend, because something hurtful this day may become something else along your road.

 

Listen with ears and heart and then take the time to dissect the new information. Do this whether confronted by a family secret, a friend’s confidence, a stranger’s unwitting slip. Do this especially thoroughly when you are surrounded by your enemies. All has meaning; your task is to find the straight in the twist. Only then might you act in a manner to solve an issue.

 

If you would be counted, by others, by history, by yourself, place your mark where it is ever visible.

 

Abandonment teaches hard lessons.

 

Connections between us are imperative for sentience to function. Not all connections are benign, however.

 

Heat is able to arise from a mere thought. The chill of fear comes from a heart beating out of rhythm.

 

Memories are never what you expect when you examine them dispassionately.

 

Grief creates currents hard to swim from.

 

Love is a choice, as choice is part of love.

 

A simple touch is able to alter time.

 

Turn your back on the past if you wish for a joyful future.

 

Ignorance is bliss, some preach, and prefer a life of stasis to maintain such a state of ‘bliss’.

Knowledge is bliss also, the informed reveal, and seek to know ever more, thereby discovering chaos.

As in all, balance is key.

Tread lightly, seeker.

Wake up, lazybones.

 

No one needs more gods. You are, each of you, a god.

 

Love is a precious gift.

 

Thought is matter. A void, therefore, cannot ever be empty.

 

New paths are determined by new choices.

 

Rocks tend to keep secrets.

 

Turn the tables on others at your peril.

 

The winds of change are not always benevolent, but they should be welcomed, no matter the state, for it is in change that we discover renewal and purpose.

 

When you read your future, know that there will be both great moments … and heartache.

Available in print only: My Wishing Well