Start your Lore journey here!

 

#epic #visionary #fantasy

LORE OF ARCANA: Book I - THE INFINITY MANTLE

#scifi #darkfantasy

Infinity: mybook.to/infinitymantle

#readinglist #mustread

eBook / Paperback / Audio Book

Ha ha, mine too :)

 

Magical!

 

Dreams and Nightmares

 

ECHO: Map, update, author notes

Those of you who have read at least some of my Lore, will know I tell the story from a multiple viewpoint. The characters are in different places, sometimes different times, and to follow the unfolding saga, well, it makes sense to follow them wherever they are, and then bring it all together. Not so with ECHO: Autumn of the Dragon. For this standalone, and it is standalone, I chose to stick with Echayn Valla throughout. Why? Because this is an adventure within the larger tale and it transpires over a short period and, given he is the focus, it just felt right to follow only him. There are a few interesting side characters, though, and it is technically a sequel, this adventure coming after all that went before.

Also, and this surprised me, the pace is faster than for any of my big books. It's as if, in telling it from a single point of view, the action is accelerated. As a writer, I'm intrigued as to how you the reader will regard this, and hope you will tell me one way or another.

Here's the latest update: Edits are complete, images have been removed, other than the map, and I'm about to start the publishing process. Just a final check …

… okay, talking map. I'm in two minds. I have included an AI generated one, but is it good enough to pass the publishing checks? Is it good enough for you to read it online? If it fails those checks, I will remove it, but here it is, in the event you want to pop by later to have a look:

All you need is a book

 

Ariel's Christmas

 

"... I cried twice and it's less than a half an hour read …" (Review on twitter)

A gentle tale about loss … and a cat.

This is Ariel’s first Christmas alone and she wants nothing to do with festivities. Her best friend extracts a promise from her to put up a tree, though, an old woman gives her advice, and on the way home she buys a few Christmas treats and, on impulse, cat food for the strays around her building.

These factors end up changing Ariel’s life.

🐈🎄

(KU) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BNJFQDRM

Book of Being so far

 Hoping to publish quite a few of the missing short stories in 2024 :)

When winter catches you - Orphan Excerpt

Chapter 11

Lost in the woods is found amid trees.

  

ADIN

 

ADIN WALKED INTO winter.

At the home, when winter came, the boys were soon ill. No one supplied them with extra blankets or warm coats, never mind heating in their rooms. In his long years there, seven boys died of lung diseases, and he also shuddered through the unbearable cold, coughing and sniffling.

Now he was prepared.

Iris showed him how to use her bank card and therefore he knew what to do to have cash in hand, but a child drawing a large sum alone would appear suspicious … or be an easy target. He might technically be a teenager, but he was small for his age, and did not have the strength to fight off bullies and thieves.

Choosing ATMs inside shopping malls worked well. Not only was he amid many and less likely to suffer a beating, but he was able to pretend he was drawing money for his mother. That was his story, if asked, but only once did an older woman enquire if he needed help, standing behind him with her own card ready. He smiled at her and told her his mother had shown him what to do.

He drew the maximum daily allowance each time, and then made the cash stretch. Less of a trail, not that anyone had cause to be looking for him.

He headed north, and as the weather worsened, he bought proper gear, a little here, a little there, never spending too much in one place. Each time he entered a store, it was with his needs in mind, and he’d head directly to what it was he sought, select the item, pay and leave. No window shopping. No indecision. Once a young girl at the till asked him where his parents were, him shopping for himself, and he said his father sent him to pay while he went into the store next door.

Every move he made ensured he was forgotten the moment he walked away.

He walked for the most part, tramping the minor roads. Sometimes he got a lift, usually from women who stopped and asked why he was alone out there. The story that worked best was an argument with friends while on an outing, and he left the fight, choosing to walk rather than wait for his lift. Generally, those rides took him into the next town or occasionally a bus station.

A few times he caught a bus, but found that worked best on weekends. On school days the old folks were too nosy. He took the train, too, but after a conductor said to stay put, he’d contact the cops to help him with adult supervision, he stayed away from trains.

Mostly, it was safer to walk.

He avoided cities at all costs.

Too young to secure accommodation in motels or hotels, he opted for the outdoors. One of the first items he bought, after sturdy hiking boots and thick socks, was a tent and then a sleeping bag, one with a built-in pillow. More and more the outdoors felt like true home. He could not understand why folk chose to live in cities. Swiftly he had camping in remote areas down to expert level. He was a survivor, after all.

Prepared as he believed himself to be, winter caught him off guard.

  

ADIN UNZIPPED THE tent flap, shivering. Whiteness greeted him. The snowfalls he’d heard talk of in the nearby town had arrived.

Two days back he overheard a conversation about frequent blizzards in the region, and how snow piled many feet thick. Staring out over a landscape featureless, where yesterday had been trails and boulders, he understood he was in trouble. Not in this particular moment, no – he’d simply pack up and tramp back to town before conditions worsened – but long term. If this forerunner stymied him, shuddered him head to toe with the onset of what had to be minor cold, he could only imagine what a blizzard would do.

Time then to make new plans, the kind to see him through winter without calling attention to himself. Not once did he consider turning around and heading south in search of milder weather. Something summoned him north, and he chose to follow that inner directive. Or someone.

Sunflower summoned him.

She was in his dreams every night, her amber eyes pleading with him to watch over her. He would do more than watch over her in dreams; he would find her in real life.

Sunflower was somewhere in the north.

Therefore, Adin would bear winter, survive it, and continue his search with spring.

   THE ORPHAN

How fragile humans are

 

Caturday LOL

 

495+!

You're awesome! Thanks for visiting!

xxx

A bell by your front door

 

Your Path

 

Rain Man

 

Writer's Inspiration: Witchery

 

Mangata

 

Yes, we do ...

 

Ready to march (ILFIN excerpt)

 

21

  

The warrior’s path creates chaos

Glonu War Manual

  

AFTER NEGOTIATING THE path down to the plain, Damin looked back. Soldiers stood on the edge of the plateau, most dismounted. He sensed not only anger, but disquiet. Some of them had to be wondering what the future now held. They were literally at every precipice there was.

His gaze descended to their own lowered level. The magical web had elongated to a barrier many miles in width. Even the most intrepid soldier on the swiftest horse would not haul in an edge before it had moved beyond his reach. They were indeed safe from all threats to their rear.

Damin wondered next how long it would remain with them. They needed now to deal with what lay ahead, however, and thus he transferred his study to the great emptiness spread before them. Many rivers needed crossing, also large tracks of dunes, much rough and rocky turf, even marshes. The place had it all, and it would test endurance.

It might kill some.

Mirlin, after discussion, moved back to the head of the column, pushing the horse he appropriated from the Messengers. He shook Horin’s hand solemnly before going, a mark of respect. The man was a tracker also and had already crossed this emptiness. Damin left him to do the leading; he would discover the sure-footed way.

Far in the distance he noticed smudges on the horizon. That would be the mountains surrounding Arc. By the stars, they needed make haste. It appeared unattainable.

Before he kneed Forest forward again, he looked up.

It was past midday and the cloud cover had retreated somewhat. The glare shifting through errant wisps was intense, and already he felt the heat building. Soon they would wish the wet season followed with them. The orb they sought to escape was dim in the brightness, but the fact that it was now visible in daytime proved sobering. It would follow them across the plain, growing every larger and in brilliance.

The soldiers were looking up also, and he sighed. As Mirlin said, they had to make their own choices. He had done his duty for the world as he had known it. What lay above on the plateau was now no longer his concern. Years of planning and soul searching went into reaching this point of march. While they were behind schedule, Lyra was not, and thus they had to look only ahead now.

“Come, Damin,” Horin murmured. He pointed, and Damin kneed Forest forward.

Come, reader, join the great march today …

 According to legend, a paradise awaits across the plains, a sanctuary that has survived every impact and every battle. Known as Arc, it is a place of isolation, a place to restart civilisation.

 A fireball grows ever larger in the skies and ancient enemies wing through the spaces; the world Massin is the gathering place for every omen of disaster. Every resident soul faces a choice. Time now to march south to the sanctuary, from the eastern highlands and the western seas, there to escape apocalypse, and the renewal of the war between the Ilfin and Glonu, or stay behind, hoping for a miracle.

 An Elemental will find the sanctuary – Lyra is gifted – a Warrior will defend the dispossessed – the boy Horin will grow up fast – and a Marsh Devil will lead them – Damin spends years preparing for this epic event – but it is also true that a sanctuary is not always a haven. Has the legend lied? Will Arc protect them?

 Prepare for an adventure that will journey from ancient ways of living into high-tech environments. Ilfin of Arc is a dystopian Fantasy tale that flies into star filled spaces – strap in!

ILFIN OF ARC

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Thanks for visiting my Writing World!

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Caturday: Awesomeness!

 

That friggin rainbow!

 

I know I had a look!

 

Keys

 

More green, please

 

Insanity vs Archery

 

Just do it!

 

Wicca vs Witchcraft

 

Chapter 1: Echo - Autumn of the Dragon

CHAPTER 1

 

TEMPEST, DO THY WORST

 

Be careful of what you wish for.

~ Truth ~

 

 

SEA SPRAY smacked him spitefully in the face, causing him to splutter. An instant later, curse words rolled off his tongue, his usual response to anything that irked him sideways. By the gods great and insignificant, this weather truly tried a man’s resolve, didn’t it? Ha, the fates were testing him. Had he not insisted on adventuring as the ancients did? Well, best put his coin where his mouth had led him, and that meant, damn it, coping with what the elements had in store for this misadventure.

Ancient mariner, my arse, Echayn Valla fumed, and inadvertently swallowed another mouthful of icy ocean. Bloody idiot, what were you thinking?

He had thought to prove his mettle. Right, and as in the past, it had led him directly into the maw of serious trouble. Lifting his waterlogged head to the sails flapping like fishtails on a beach, he grimaced. Either they’d land up in the drink or the air currents would hurtle them into the heavens. No steering available now. Best to hang on. He was not giving in. No sorcery on this trip, he’d promised himself that. Not that one could do anything in this kind of weather; always a storm leeched away power.

Clutching the rail, Echayn watched the heaving ocean threaten to overturn his suddenly too puny ship. The Sea Sprite, pretty as she was, fast and sturdy, had been built with tropical waters in mind. Sparing a glance for the five sailors hunkering near the hatch, he grimaced once more. Old hands, they were, and mortally afraid. He should hark to that, shouldn’t he? He smirked next. It was also true that they were superstitious, and this tempest had the look of portent, didn’t it? Thus, they hunkered instead of acting as sailors should, believing some supernatural force had assumed control. No need to trim sails and what not, then. A mindset he couldn’t fathom.

“Bring the mainsail down!” he hollered, not caring if that was the correct way to say it. He wasn’t the seaman. “MOVE!” Other than rolling their eyes at each other, they didn’t budge. Fine. By the gods, then. Laughing, he threw his hands up. “Let the fates decide!”

Famous last words.

 

 

COUGHING and hawking, Echayn rolled onto his stomach. He was still on the Sprite’s deck. Well, there was that, at least. Hadn’t landed up in the drink when a spar broke free overhead and knocked him into the black of oblivion. Rising to all-fours, he gazed blearily around. Of the sailors there was no sign. Now what did that mean? Had they gone overboard? Where …?

He paused there in his thoughts, and in his movements. Silence. There was only silence. No sound of crashing waves. Not even a whisper of the gale that had nearly drowned him in sea spray. Not a creak or a flap of wood and sail. And the ship was motionless.

On his feet in a blur of concerted action, he levelled his sword at the surrounds. “Who did this?” he croaked. “Where are you?”

For, indeed, this silence was unnatural. Sorcery was absolutely in play. The kind able to override a storm, by the gods.

No answer came forth. Turning in every direction, he realised whoever or whatever had achieved this state had absconded … or watched from a distance, choosing not to reveal. Frowning, Echayn shoved his blade home and strode to the hatch that led below deck. Intending to check the bowels of the vessel, he was brought up short instead. In the narrow passage he discovered the five sailors, all unconscious, all unharmed.

Well. It seemed whatever being did this, needed them alive.

Why?

Three were Valleur – golden-haired and eyed – two sailors were Senlu – red-haired with blue eyes both – the latter having never sailed beyond the rocky bays east of Grinwallin’s mountains. Of course, that stretch of sea was for madmen, given its propensity for violent weather. The Valleur, on the other hand, sailed the currents around the Grenle Archipelago where life on the ocean was calm and warm for the most part. The odd tropical storm, of course, but nothing like to the one that had smacked into them here. Old hands, yes, but not that experienced regarding Luvanor’s great watery expanses when one broke it down to brass nails and rope knots.

While every man, woman and child of Valleur and Senlu extraction on Luvanor was capable of deploying magic, there was degree of talent. He, Echayn, chose seamen who were little versed. He wished to reach his destination by wits and sheer grit, not the ease sorcery delivered. He wished for proper challenge … and here it was.

Snorting, aware what he had asked for had been given, and should not a man be so careful of what he wished for, he shook the men. Soon enough, they sat in various poses staring at him. Probably thought he used magic. Ha.

“Not me,” he grunted. “Did anyone see anything?”

“It’s quiet,” Girvin, born and bred to Grinwallin, stated. “Why is it quiet?”

“This is why I’m asking.” Rolling his eyes, Echayn stood and retreated to the hatch. “Join me on deck.” He ducked through.

Beyond what amounted to a bubble of still atmosphere and ocean, the storm they’d landed up in continued to rage, showing no sign of letting up. Massive waves broke with regularity over their air pocket. A sobering sight. Truth was, had they not had their arses saved, this ship would be in the depths.

“Would you have taken us away?” Jaffiel of Kantar, whose name meant ‘loves the water’, the reason he chose a sailor’s life, demanded. “It looked as if you wanted us shipwrecked.”

That was an accusation, and who could blame the man? “I don’t know,” Echayn admitted. Would he have lifted them ship and all to calm waters? Despite his promise to eschew sorcery? Would he have had the power to do so in a storm? Who could tell? Then again, never had he stood aside when another needed saving. “Probably, somehow,” he sighed. “Someone else did this, though. Did you see anything?”

All shook heads.

“Well, we wait it out. Once that tempest blows itself into surrender, we go on. Meanwhile, let’s attend to repairs.” He eyed the sorry lot. They were not happy. “Tell me what to do; I’ll help.”

“Bloody crazy Vallas,” Jaffiel muttered, and swung away.

Leering at the others, Echayn spread his hands. Truth, after all. To the last, his family could not be called ‘normal’.

 

 

NIGHTFALL brought no change, and thus they gathered in the small space set aside for meals. Darris, a Senlu from the farms below Grinwallin’s plateau, prepared fresh bread, and soup from the remaining vegetables. Good fare, and his proficiency in the kitchen, or in this case, the galley, was the other reason Echayn had hired him. Pairing the offerings with ale, they sat around the table eating and drinking in silence.

“You misled us,” Jaffiel eventually said, shoving his emptied bowl to the side. “You said we’d be in no danger, an adventure of a lifetime …”

“Shut it, Jaff,” the brothers Ilan and Kelby growled simultaneously.

Young still, with Ilan the oldest, both plied the waters of Grenle, fishing in blissful conditions. Ilan could finger snap for a fire, and Kelby had a nose for bad weather, which was why Echayn brought him in. The two came as a team, and he was happy to accommodate them. Kelby, in fact, revealed at dawn that a storm headed their way. Given his warning, they had tried to outrun it.

“Yes, quiet,” Girvin put in.

“Why?” Jaffiel demanded. “I must watch my mouth because Echayn Valla hired us? You know what happens when you follow a Valla? Chaos!”

Leaning back with his ale, Echayn studied the man. Most of that was bravado. The sailor was afraid. If memory served, his single magical talent was for knots, most suitable in his line of work, but it meant he had not the wherewithal to protect himself. Not magically, anyway. Echayn suspected the man would be handy in a brawl. Before he could formulate a response, Darris did so for him.

“Pal, you agreed to follow this Valla. We all did. Can’t go crying in your soup about it now.” The cook slapped the table. “And don’t go blaming him for the weather. We’re at sea, idiot, and shit goes wrong sometimes.”

“Quit complaining,” Kelby said around a mouthful of ale.

Enough of this. Echayn carefully set his goblet on the worn table. “Truthfully, I should be the one taking the lot of you to task. You did nothing. Did I not hire you to steer this vessel upon oceans calm and stormy? Shit does happen. You hid from your duties, considered your fate another’s rather than make your own. You are Valleur and Senlu, for all gods’ sakes. You do not cower. What has you this terrified?”

They stared at him, with the brothers dropping their gazes first. Jaffiel sniffed as he said, “There’s a reason Senluar was abandoned.”

“Yet you took my coin.”

The man had the grace to appear shamed. “Didn’t think we’d get this far.”

Ah, they thought the crazy Valla would either magick them to their destination or turn the ship around when the going got tough. He’d bet his sword that they hunkered during the storm hoping he’d admit defeat and take them home. With their pockets filled, life would be pretty easy for a time. He’d wager the one who sold him the Sea Sprite had lined his pockets also; this ship was ill-suited to purpose.

“My lord …” Ilan began, only to be cut short.

“Out here I’m not bloody ‘my lord’.” Echayn stood. Reaching for his ale, he slurped the dregs in before slamming the goblet down. “Call me Echo, hear? That is who I am out here. Echo.” He marched away before he slapped someone.

COMING SOON!

Caturday: In a cat's eyes

 

Those fictional worlds, right?!

 

Ancient Illumination in various formats and languages

 

ANCIENT ILLUMINATION

New cover for the Follower

 

She will choose her own fate.

Chloe runs away from her family home because she will not marry the man her brother deems suitable. After all, in the 21st century, the choice is hers to make.

 Muddy footprints reveal that she is being followed. Is it the man her brother has chosen for her? Is it a stranger who preys on lonely women?

 Or is it a ghost?

THE FOLLOWER

Now in translation: German Ancient Illumination

Coming soon!

ECHO is DONE!

Yippee, typed 'The End' for ECHO earlier! At almost 110k, it's shorter than other Lore books, but I'm happy with it. Now the edits start …

To have images or not, that is the next question. Here's the latest two I've added to the narrative, but seriously, all may end up removed. Not too big a fan of images in fiction, other than a decent map in Fantasy books (which I still need to do). We'll see :)

Also, here's the blurb as it is at the moment:

Be careful of what you wish for.

The world Luvanor has four continents, but the small one in the south remains abandoned after massive volcanic eruptions destroyed the land a long time ago, creating simultaneously an impassable trench in the ocean few dare cross.

 Abandoned. Uninhabited. Perhaps dangerous. The type of adventure Echayn Valla, aka Echo, goes in search of, hoping to discover remains from that bygone era, or perhaps he hopes to find something new about himself.

 Don’t they say be careful of what you wish for? Echo is about to embark on the greatest misadventure of his life. Nothing is as it seems, as he will soon realise. Join him now for a journey of discovery that will test his wits, his strength … and his heart.

 This is also a love story.

You are the spell

 

Imagination!