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.
This is also a love story.
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There
were hundreds. By the gods. How had they ended up trapped? However it came to
pass wasn’t the main issue, though. He needed all lost souls to congregate for
this to work. Potentially, any stragglers in the aftermath would not again
approach, thinking it would end their existence, terrible as it was for them.
“I
see you,” he said aloud. “I can help you.” The forms stilled, but he did notice
a thickening in the rear as if many more suddenly joined the crowd. Good. “I
swear to send you into your Afterlife, if you will grant me the opportunity to
do so.”
A low
whistle in front of his horse revealed that Sabian had arrived, although Echo
couldn’t see him. “How many, Echo?” came the man’s disembodied question.
“No
clue. Can you do this?”
“They
are wary, but yes. Talk to them while I prepare.”
Echo
raised his voice. “Do you hear me? Someone has come with the talent to take you
into the realms beyond this one where you may finally be at peace. Whatever
lies in your souls now, whether fury or numbness, does not determine your
destination. No supernatural power judges you for reacting to this current
state of waiting. Where you go is determined by who you truly are in your deep
recesses. You are Diluvan, and you walk in the Light. Please, we mean you no
harm. Will you gather all for this to be?”
Sight
now was more about grey than white, which meant more and more ghostly Diluvans
were entering the assembly. The greyness undulated, due to arrivals requiring
space, and then abruptly, all movement ceased. Did that mean all were present?
Did it mean they accepted?
“They
are ready,” Sabian murmured. “Well done, Echo. Do no more; I will take it from
here.”
A
dead kind of silence descended then, one that included utter motionlessness.
Even the fog felt otherworldly, without substance. The sense of cloying wetness
evaporated entirely.
Then,
poof.
The
fog simply vanished.
Blue
sky blazed overhead.
Even unseen
Sabian was gone. That wasn’t as much an astonishment, however; Sabian needed to
leave with the souls.
Okyd
shouted somewhere, and the sound of his horse’s hooves was loud in the
stillness.
Mabellee
cleared her throat. “What, Echo?”
Brief
as the event had been, he had not the wherewithal to explain. Oreun indicated
that she would, and thus he released the woman, kneeing his mount forward. A
few paces removed, he halted again to lace his hands on his head, and inhaled
massive breaths repeatedly. By the gods, that had been strange. Other.
Fair-haired
and blue-eyed Sabian reappeared then, grinning, and Echo slid from his mount.
The two men entered a back-slapping embrace, something that was all about
relief.
“Thanks,
man,” Echo said fervently as they drew apart.
“I’m
agog as to how a bunch of Diluvans managed to stick around,” Sabian laughed. “They
will be fine. I received only gratefulness as they dissipated.” He gazed around
… and saw Oreun. “That’s a Kallanon. What’s going on here?”
Might
be an idea to fill Sabian in, who could then take the message to Torrullin and
Elianas. “You have an hour or two?”
Still
watching the dragonne, Sabian muttered, “For this I’ll give you a day or two.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Echo started talking.
*spoiler alert*
Chapter 10 gives quite a bit away!
TIME PLAYS TRICKS
Knowledge
is a powerful tool and also a burden.
~ Scroll of
Wisdom ~
THE NEW DAY brought with it rain,
torrents of it, so much that Kelby muttered about volcanoes snuffing forever.
The water found every gap, running in rivulets under clothes. Within minutes of
its beginning, all were thoroughly drenched and utterly dispirited.
Not
bothering with a warm drink or food, they headed for the trees, hoping the
canopy would offer some relief. It did, but it also heralded a different kind
of tension. The band waiting in the forest was not small, and all were armed.
Only Moira smiled something akin to welcome.
“Thought
she said no real weapons,” Ilan grumbled from the rear.
Oreun
had taken to wing as they vanished into the trees and could not rebut. Echo
pressed his lips together and approached the woman. “You expecting us to give
you trouble?” he asked, flicking a wrist at the nearest man, this one a
dark-skinned muscle statue, hefting a mace able to slay a giant.
“Precaution
only,” she said. “We know what you can do.”
“Then
you must know even your fastest bowman will be slower than I am.”
“True,
but what about your men? Can they defend themselves?”
She
had a point, and wasn’t it his wet state causing his bad mood, not the
situation under the trees. That, and his simmering anger towards a dragonne
keeping secrets. “Lead on.”
Inclining
her head, she did just that, heading deeper into the forest. The men and women
with her encircled Echo and the seamen. He said not a word, simply picking up
the pace to match hers. Walking might at least create warmth. An intriguing
mixture of people, he noted, the result of many generations. Light and dark
skins, eye colour ranged through the usual spectrum, excluding the yellow of
Valleur, hair from fair to black, tall and average height, slim build to that
one with his bulging biceps. Once they were Senlu and Airolan, today they were
something new, much like humankind elsewhere with their range of features.
Moira
soon fell back after indicating to someone to take the lead. She moved into
step next to him. “You’re dissecting us.”
“Merely
observing.”
“Valleur
tend to regard others as lesser because they don’t have race traits.”
He
huffed a laugh. “I think that’s your judgement, not mine.”
“But
it is true that Valleur are golden haired and eyed.”
“For
the most part, yes. Here on Luvanor that has changed somewhat.”
“Only
somewhat. Because of the human influx at one stage.”
“Hmm,
one could say you have human ancestors in your mix also. Senlu are largely
red-haired and blue eyed, and it seems the Airolan were similar, and yet I see
far more than that.”
She
shrugged. “Might be. Does it matter?”
“Not
to me.”
A
sigh sounded. “You may be right. The judgement is mine.”
Echo
gave her a skew smile. “The Valleur criticize themselves, too.”
The
trees, he realised, had become thicker, larger, with more undergrowth
prevalent. The evergreens now hosted orange and yellow foliaged boles, proving
autumn was indeed the season. Varied birdsong abounded, obvious even over the
drumming rain – the latter had mercifully lessened due to the thickened growth.
They had clearly entered an older section, and he noticed they followed a
narrow path, one well-trodden, forcing them into two abreast. This route was
used frequently, probably for the fish in the lake. Also, it grew darker.
“Mountain
shadow,” Moira offered.
He
bit the inside of his cheek. She read his thoughts, or she was well-versed in
body language and facial expressions. He carefully kept his expression neutral
… only to hear her chuckle. Stopping, he folded his arms.
“I’m
merely putting myself in your shoes,” she chortled, halting as well. “Right
now, you’re wondering if I can read your thoughts. I can’t. I simply saw you
frown at the trees as if speculating where the light went.”
“You
read people well.”
She
grimaced. “People watching. There’s not much to do here by way of
entertainment. Especially in winter.”
The
others stepped around them and went on. Watching that, Echo murmured, “You have
status. They say nothing.”
“Seems
you read people well, too.”
Shaking
his head, he grunted, “Do you think you can give me a straight answer?”
“My
parents are Arkwell’s current Pillars, which makes me de facto mouthpiece
everywhere else.”
Pillars?
Interesting choice. Echo said as much.
“When
you see the town, you’ll understand why. Pillars abound,” Moira laughed. “Come.
If we keep this pace, we can reach Lillivale by nightfall.” She strode on,
throwing over her shoulder, “More ruins to tell more of our story.”
LILLIVALE, when they reached it, possessed
another tower, although not as sprawling or tall as Malaya’s Folly. It reminded
Echo of a space gantry, one where nature had reclaimed the structure. He
pointed that out to Alain now keeping him company.
“This
was to keep an eye out for fires,” the man responded. “The launch platform for
the ships was to the east where the land is flat. Most of that is gone; an
earthquake swallowed the buildings and broke the plateau. Marshland now.”
The
edifice had been constructed on high terrain. Below, to the south, glints on
water revealed another lake … and … Echo squinted in the growing dark. “Is that
a wall?”
Alain
nodded. “Water break when there was far more of it in the old days. Boats used
to anchor in the calm behind it.” He pointed out various buildings and jetties
above the subsided water line. “Folk came here to have fun, sail, you know,
drink. We still use Lillivale to break our journey when the fish swim.”
“Yes,
Echo, guess what? You’ll be sleeping dry tonight,” Moira said as she
approached. “The cottages are in good repair. This remains a site for keeping
the fire watch, so there’s always four residents on a rotational basis.”
“Good
news,” he murmured.
Rolling
her eyes, she told Alain to lead the seamen to a cottage, and then took Echo’s
arm. “Come with me.”
Allowing
her to tug him in her wake, noting a row of forest hued cottages on his right
overlooking the lake, he wondered where Oreun had got to, and sent the thought
into the ether. I shall be with you in the morning, was the reply. And
no more. She shut him out without even a waft of apology. Why? Had Oreun chosen
to allow the humanoids to connect first before becoming involved … or was she
about some other secretive thing? His simmering anger became a strengthening
glow of fury, but he schooled his face. Had to behave right now.
“Ooo,
you’re clamping emotion down,” Moira said upon looking back. She slowed to walk
next to him, hooking her arm through his. “What’s got you so mad? Don’t deny
it. Your face doesn’t tell the tale, but your body does.” She briefly squeezed
his upper arm.
“Oreun,”
he said reluctantly.
“Ah.
Keeper of Secrets, that one.”
The
overgrown tower came into view. At ground level there was a deck serving as a
viewing platform, currently unoccupied, and was that a telescope? Echo said not
a word, leaving it up to his guide to inform him. She, in fact, led him to the
device, gestured. Shrugging, he put his eye to the contraption … and reared
back.
“What
the hell?” he blurted.
“Technology
and magic,” she murmured. “Look again.”
Warily,
he did as bid. The land lit for him like to the noonday, to show every curve
and dip, all of it in various shades of green and amber. The gadget employed
the night vision principle, clearly, but the hues were a spell, had to be.
Ingenious. And it meant these people were versed in sorcery. Huffing, he used
the opportunity to gaze far, and saw in the distance a large light signature.
“That’s
Arkwell.”
Ah.
Swinging the device, he noted other tiny points of light. Villages, no doubt.
He also saw an ominous shadow … “Mount Vassyn, I assume.”
“Indeed.”
“What
is it you wish for me to discover with my own eyes?” he bit out. “A clue will
help.”
Laughing
under her breath, Moira said, “South and west, ground level.”
At first,
he missed it, but on carefully shifting the eyepiece, well, there it was,
except … what in all gods’ names was it? A circle of rotating light, sparking
akin to electricity … oh. Oh. He reared up. “A portal?”
“Right
first time,” Moira whispered. “And now you know why we came to meet you, Echayn
Valla.”
“Does
Oreun know of this?”
“Of
course.”
Bloody
hell. Fucking, bloody hell. “Oreun!” he hollered. “Get your arse here
right now!”
Mere
moments later a rainbow skittered in the air nearby, and then the dragonne
landed in a flap of wings below the platform. She snorted a fire stream his
way. Watch your manners!
“Fuck
manners,” he snarled, vaulting over the railing to stride towards her. “You
want my help, you start talking now.”
By
the time he stood before the massive creature, all in Lillivale knew something
was afoot, for they gathered in a semi-circle, including his men. Moira
remained on the platform, leaning on her forearms.
“Where
the fuck does that portal lead to?” Echo demanded.
“The
Kallanon realm.”
Eyes
narrowing, he whispered, “That’s how Neolone came to this universe?”
“No,
he employed a rift the Q’lin’la created, one subsequently sealed. The portal
here came much later, when the Kallanon uncovered the One prophecy and needed
insight. They brought Neolone home as you have heard, but he did not
know. He wasn’t lying about that. I was tasked with keeping the portal safe …”
“Because
they found you when it opened. This is why you yet live.”
“The
other reason is true also. I wasn’t lying about that.”
“Why
does it remain open?” he demanded.
She
inhaled a massive breath to release it as steam. “How do you think Nefilim came
to your aid recently? It is the swiftest way to reach …”
“Torrullin.”
“The
One, after all, not so? He is important to the Kallanon.”
Scrubbing
at his face, Echo muttered, “And so a world sentience creates havoc here for
reasons as stated, but also because, by god, one must with all one is
fucking keep a portal from common view.”
“Just
so.”
“You
bloody evicted the Senlu! You did the same to the Airolan. Why, pray tell, have
you between the two of you allowed these people to live here? Are they
not a danger to your bloody tear in the fucking fabric?”
“Yes.”
He
stared at her, and then twisted his head to peer up at Moira, saying, “You will
be thrown off Senluar soon.”
“Which
is why we need you,” she said quietly.
“Do
you trust this dragonne?”
“We
do. Oreun told us the day would come. The closer we are to magical transport,
the more dangerous we are to this secret.”
Transport
ability. Really. He swung back to the dragonne. “You dampen transport. You keep
them back …”
“To
save them, Echo.”
“Yes,
fine, I understand that, but you will lift the veil now. I am going down
to that portal forthwith.”
She
stared at him.
He
glared at her.
“It
is lifted,” she eventually said.
Without
further ado, Echo vacated the space he occupied. A thought swirled in the
either, one he waved aside and then forgot about. Why was it that some of the
gathered had looked at him as if he was insane … as if he spoke to himself, not
the massive creature answering his questions?
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ALONE, he squatted in shale and damp
river sand. Water surrounded the portal, evidence of another lake. It meant,
given the level had dropped exponentially since ancient time, the portal was
once underwater, probably why no one knew of it. Senlu records certainly didn’t
mention it. Man, Teighlar would have bent his ear had he known of its
existence. Torrullin would have investigated already. His forte, after
all.
A
means for the Kallanon to enter Reaume. Clever.
A
means, thus, for others to enter the Kallanon realm? Could it be done? Echo
yanked at his hair in frustration. Only Torrullin could answer that question.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
Oreun
landed lightly nearby. “I have made oaths I cannot simply undo, Echo.”
All
his anger bled away. He knew how it was to speak words of forever promise, and
how keeping them bowed one. “I understand.”
“Thank
you.”
He
stood. “But now we need deal with this. It cannot be left unattended. You won’t
be watching as closely as you have until now …”
“The
Pillars of Arkwell watch also.”
“Glad
to hear you have help, but they are not enough. The Kallanon are a force Reaume
cannot deal with. Should some idiot decide to dive into that thing and wake
them to a potential threat of invasion, they will act.”
“They
will go to Lord Elixir first for clarity.”
Throwing
his hands up, he growled, “You’re saying he needs to know. Did you not say he
is too much for this misadventure?”
“He
needs to know, Echo, but he doesn’t need to come here.”
“For
Aaru’s sake, the instant I tell him, is also the instant he makes an
appearance. This shit is what Torrullin does best. A bloody Walker of Realms,
after all.”
“Therefore,
the last person who should stand on the edge of this portal. Torrullin will
enter, and what will that do to the Kallanon?”
Again,
he yanked at his hair, pulling a handful free of the tie in the nape of his
neck. “Fine. What do you suggest?”
“Karydor.”
Hmm.
Yes, that could work. Tell Karydor, who would then impress on his son to stay
put, that he, Echo, had it in hand. But … “I’m not calling Karydor into this
mess. I will go to …”
“Leave
Senluar now, and Rein will obliterate all sentient life here.”
His
anger returned, full-blown. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone? And, damn
it, I can’t properly communicate the nuances to Karydor across the spaces.
It’ll take days to make him understand.”
Oreun
lowered her head. “Write to him. I shall see it delivered.”
Right.
Good idea. Logical. He huffed. “Fine.” Waving a hand, he summarily vanished,
and did not hear the dragonne’s displeased grunt. Arriving back on the platform
where Moira still stood, he said, “I need writing materials. Can you help?”
Reining
in her astonishment, she nodded. “At the Watch. They keep records of fire
sighting. Come with me.”
Be careful of what you wish for.
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:
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!
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 :)
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.
Around three-quarters of the way now, I think 😵
I'm still headed for a Christmas release, but this does depend on edits etc (and finishing the story, of course). Here's the latest image - pure sword and sorcery!
Almost at 60k (less than I'd like, but commitments elsewhere have kept me away from my keyboard), and I've added 3 new images to the narrative. here they are with brief descriptions:
ECHO is now at 50k words, which is a halfway mark for me. I'm aiming at a 100k, and I'm beginning to see how it may end :)
Here's 3 added images inserted into the manuscript (see the others HERE).
Now at almost 30k words for ECHO, which is kinda my measuring stick for whether to continue or not. In other words, if a story (novel length) reaches 30k, it's worth going on. FYI, to explain the title of this post, I've inserted images into the manuscript, created with AI prompts. They may or may not remain in the published version, but meanwhile they serve as inspiration. Thought I'd share those with you :)
