Manipuli

I’ve been engrossed in writing “Quantum Conscience” lately, which is definitely a good thing, but also means it’s harder for me to switch gears and write a vignette! So today I offer an excerpt from an unpublished novel co-written by me and Malcolm Pierce called “Manipuli.” The only reason I haven’t released this novel yet is that I’m trying to hold out for a traditional publisher. These days, though, that sounds like saying I’m waiting for my fairy godmother to fly down and wave her magic wand. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the excerpt!

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In a small cottage upon the foothills of Fairdalia, a baby’s cry pierced the heavy darkness. Howling winds rattled the brittle trees and tossed snow through the air like tiny shards of ice. Animals huddled in their nests or groped through the shadows for shelter. Even the critters with sharp, nocturnal vision failed to find their way home on this night, for not a single star shone in the sky. Pitch black clouds swallowed the light of the hidden moon. A sense of dread and panic seized the heart of every rabbit, wolf, griffin, unicorn, and other manner of beast to be found in the woods of Fairdalia, for this was the darkest night they had ever experienced.

But every living creature paused, ears twitching, when the baby’s cry rang across the land. Their dread did not release them; in fact, many of the animals suffered an increased sense of anxiety. Nonetheless, they all knew they heard something special, something that would change the world of Fairdalia for the rest of their meager lives.

Within the cottage, the baby’s father—a ragged peasant named Balthazar—struggled to keep a candle lit amidst the battering winds. Like prying fingers, the breeze forced itself through every crack and crevice of the log cabin. His wife, Agatha, held the newborn baby in her trembling arms and wiped the blood from its face with a cloth. Even Agatha, relieved by her successful childbirth and proud of the bundle of life in her arms, felt disturbed by the piercing cries coming from its mouth.

“Sphinx’s curses!” growled Balthazar, dropping the flint as he watched the candle sputter and shrink. “I can’t see a damn thing!”

Another gust of wind blew out the flame completely, plunging the husband and wife into darkness. Agatha clutched the squirming baby to her chest, but somehow this brought her no comfort.

“All is well, husband,” she said wearily. “The baby is born. We can rest until morning.”

“All is not well!” he cried. “I want to see my child!”

Suddenly, beams of silver light shot through the farmer’s window. A white glow filled the interior of the cabin. Awestruck, Balthazar moved to the shutters and opened them. In the heavens above, the moon filled the sky, so huge and heavy, it looked as if it would collide with their planet. Mixed feelings of fear and wonder stirred in the poor peasant’s heart. The brightness of the moon almost blinded him, but he could not look away.

The baby stopped crying, and silence fell over the kingdom of Fairdalia.

“Look, husband!” gasped Agatha.

He followed her gaze to their newborn child, now glowing in the brilliant luminescence. He could now see that he had sired a son. But that did not draw his attention so much as a strange mark on the infant’s chest. At first, he thought it a stain from its mother’s blood. But the longer he stared, the more detail he discerned on the baby’s skin. Like a tattoo, black marks intertwined around the area of his heart, then dispersed and faded like so many veins into his body.

Balthazar’s eyes grew wide with terror. “That mark,” he breathed. “I have seen that mark before. It is the mark of evil!

He turned to his wardrobe and fumbled through its contents. Agatha knew what he was getting long before she saw the flash of moonlight against the blade.

“No!” yelled Agatha. “NO!”

The baby, sensing his mother’s dismay, wailed alongside her. Clouds swept over the moon, drawing darkness back over the world like a curtain. Balthazar dove for the baby, but could no longer see it. He tripped and fell upon the floor, cursing.

Weakened by childbirth, but driven by the need to save her child’s life, Agatha got up and fled.

She could see no better than her husband, but desperation guided her through the shadows, across the familiar floorboards of the cottage, and out into the biting snow. Cold clung to her feet and climbed up her legs, draining her weary muscles. She stumbled through the blackness.

Then a star twinkled above her, providing a surge of light over the field. Agatha followed the silver glow. It faded as she passed through, but then another star sparkled from the blackness. One by one, the stars winked above her, illuminating her path through the frosty fields and forests. It seemed as if some powerful force guided her, granting small pools of light wherever she needed it, but casting all else in darkness. The sound of Balthazar yelling from the cottage grew more and more distant until it faded completely.

Agatha hoped she was safe, for she did not have the strength to run any further. She wrapped the baby in her cloak and huddled into a small cove protected from the wind, relatively free of snow or ice. Here she clutched her son to her breast and prayed to All Sortilege, the source of all magical power. One look at her son made Agatha cease to care whether a good or evil force had marked him. She believed that any power could be directed in either direction. But she did suspect that magic of some sort had marked her newborn son.

“All Sortilege,” she whispered, “please protect us and lead us to safety. Pour your blessings on my dear son… Lucien.”

The name, meaning light, came effortlessly to Agatha as a result of the night’s events. The baby ceased squirming and relaxed against his mother. Agatha wondered if she imagined the sensation of warmth that suddenly seemed to wrap around them both. They fell deeply asleep as if nothing on earth could harm them—and perhaps nothing could.

*

Published in: on April 1, 2014 at 10:11 am  Comments (4)  
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Grand Traitor Makeover

My free novella, Grand Traitor, has received another makeover! If you haven’t read it yet, now’s the time!

A foreigner surprises everyone in Castle Krondolee when she claims to possess the key to a room that has remained closed for centuries, its contents unknown. Arken Jeridar, descended from the god of greed, schemes to win the key for himself and the queen's love all at once. But success may come at a far greater cost than he ever expected.

A foreigner surprises everyone in Castle Krondolee when she claims to possess the key to a room that has remained closed for centuries, its contents unknown. Arken Jeridar, descended from the god of greed, schemes to win the key for himself and the queen’s love all at once. But success may come at a far greater cost than he ever expected.

 

As some of you may know, I have recently taken something of a break from writing novels to explore other forms of storytelling media. I created an animation and then became involved with game design, releasing my first visual novel October last year online and in the Google App store: “Serafina’s Saga.” Because of the positive responses the game has received, and also my own emotional attachment to the story, I have decided to go back and adapt the game script into a novel. This will give me a chance to dive deeper into the characters, spend more time with them, and release a version of the story that non-gamers can enjoy, as well.

Grand Traitor is the prequel to all forms of “Serafina’s Saga,” and the story also occurs in the same world as the “Broken Balance” Series (Ashes of DearenSands of Hanubi). Depending on how the Serafina’s Saga novel goes, I might write a third book to create a “Serafina’s Saga” trilogy, which will begin to connect the characters of “Serafina’s Saga” with those in Sands of Hanubi. But let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.

So I just wanted to let you all know that I am still writing novels, albeit not as quickly as the previous few years, and give you a taste of what’s ahead. One way or another, I will return to the Sands of Hanubi story eventually; I’m certainly not done telling it. If you haven’t read Grand Traitor yet, go check it out for free. Here’s a teaser:

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Excerpt from Grand Traitor Chapter 3

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She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

Nadia stood in the hallway, trembling so fiercely she feared for the health of her baby. Elborn mothers rarely miscarried or suffered complications during childbirth. It was one of the many reasons people suspected they carried the blood of Demetral. But Nadia still worried that the fears and burdens she suffered might have some negative impact on her little Serafina. She could not remember the last time she felt so physically unstable. Her hands sweated uncontrollably. Her body felt weak from lack of food. And yet her one bite of breakfast continued to churn in her stomach.

Two rows of Darzian soldiers shared the hallway with the queen, prepared to give their lives to protect her. She wore a crown on her head, ensuring her that everyone on this vast and powerful continent must obey her command. And yet she felt as vulnerable as a small child alone in the wild. Any moment, Arken Jeridar would come strolling down this hallway. She had chosen this part of the castle for that very purpose, so she might intercept him. But the thought of seeing him again—of staring into those fierce golden eyes, full of anger and maybe even hatred—terrified her beyond belief.

“I, uh… I’m not feeling well,” she said aloud, even though the soldiers were trained not to speak to her. Some of them exchanged puzzled glances, as if wondering whether to respond. “I’m going back to my room!” she declared. Then she started to turn around.

But it was already too late. For at that very moment, Arken appeared at the end of the hallway.

He froze at the same time that she did. He stared at her across the stones of the hall, through the bright beams of sunlight from the windows, and she wondered how she looked to him. There she stood, fat and pregnant, her ridiculously large dress spreading out from her swollen midriff, a look of shock on her face. Crowned, bejeweled, and surrounded by soldiers, she still managed to feel pathetic and sickly.

Meanwhile, Arken looked as radiant as ever. He had traded his silk robes for leather riding boots, simple trousers, and a loose-fitting shirt that showed the softly-sculpted lines of his chest. He had pulled his yellow hair behind him, tied with a silk ribbon, though a few soft strands still fell to accentuate the squareness of his jaws and the sharp length of his nose.

He recovered before she did. He resumed walking, and his steps did not waver as he swept his long legs down the hallway. He stopped just a few feet away from her and feigned a graceful bow. Somehow, this theatrical submission felt equal to the most flagrant insult he might have thrown upon her.

At long last, she closed her gaping mouth and tried to recover her breath. But despite how many times she had rehearsed this moment while waiting for him to appear, she could not find the words to say.

He looked up at her, revealing a tiny smirk on his mouth, and found his voice before she did. “Most beautiful and gracious queen. Forgive me for interrupting you on my way through this hallway.”

He might as well have slapped her across the face. And perhaps that was for the best, for at last, she felt her senses returning to her. “Arken,” she said. “I came here to speak with you.”

He straightened from his ridiculous bow, but continued to wear that smile on his face—a smile that, despite its charm, she knew to be fake. Whatever warmth it provided, the coldness in his eyes overwhelmed it tenfold. “Oh really? Why would the great Queen Nadia ever trouble herself with the likes of a man like me?”

He poised the question as a mockery. But she sensed a sincere curiosity behind his words, as well. “Arken, I…” She glanced around at the soldiers. “Leave us.”

The soldiers hesitated. They could not disobey. But they could not abandon her, either. They did not know what to do.

“Wait for me… over there,” she snapped, pointing to the end of the hallway.

With a great shuffle of armor and weaponry, the soldiers obeyed her. Arken watched them go with an amused expression.

“Arken, when you left here so suddenly, on that day… you never gave me a chance to explain myself.”

“What must you explain? You chose to marry another man. Quite… ‘suddenly.’” The fake smirk, the feigned amusement, vanished completely. His lips curled with a snarl. “Whatever you would say to me, I don’t wish to hear it.”

“But you must. I…” Her palms were sweating again. She rubbed them against the fabric of her dress, to no avail. “I did what I thought what was best for the kingdom. I wanted to marry you. But to do that would have been selfish, especially when I realized the repercussions. If I had abandoned the throne without warning, the castle would have fallen into chaos. Relationships between the Houses were so heated, I feared a civil war.”

“I see. Marrying me would have been selfish?” He snorted, a sound that reverberated from one end of the hall to the other. “Gods forbid you do something selfish! I don’t suppose choosing the crown over love is selfish at all? Nor the assumption that you must sit on the throne or the kingdom will fall to ruin? Naturally, you did what you had to—for the kingdom.”

“You know that it’s true, Arken! Our actions could have had dire consequences.”

“But that’s not the full truth, now is it?” His eyes narrowed on her, and she felt as if they pierced her to the core. “If you really worried so much about the consequences, you would have spoken to the Royal Duma about marrying me long before your scheduled wedding with Lord Gerald.” He stepped closer to her, his gaze crushing her as surely as a boot upon her throat. “If we had proceeded more carefully, we might have gained everyone’s approval. So if you cared so much about that, why didn’t you try? Why did you not announce our intentions sooner?”

Nadia opened her mouth, but no words came out. She realized that for better or worse, Arken sensed the truth. He knew that she had loved him. But despite her love for him, she had never believed he could rule as Grand Prince without causing trouble. She worried that he would always want more power—that his inheritance as a Jeridar would get the best of him. And that even if married to the monarch, his power would fail to satisfy the greed in his bloodstream.

“You misjudged me,” he hissed, his breath blowing the red curls from her face. “You thought I cared only about the crown. You were wrong. But not nearly so wrong as I was about you.”

He pulled back, just a little, but she still felt as if he had smashed her to powder against the floor of the hallway. She felt tiny and small, unable to argue, helpless against his accusations.

“May I pass now, my queen?” His voice dripped with derision. “Or must you explain yourself further?”

“I…” She took another deep, shuddering breath. She stared into the floor, finding that her courage increased the longer she avoided his gaze. “I think that you should not go on this ride with Vivian,” she said at last. “I think that if you obtain the key—more specifically, if your family obtains the key—then the consequences will be dire.”

“That’s not really my concern, is it?” She glimpsed a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Such concerns are for the people with crowns. So why should I worry?”

“Arken. I am begging you…”

“Beg all you’d like, Nadia.” This time, a true hint of joy rang upon his voice, and it chilled her to the bone. “But the more you beg, the more you will assure me of my purpose. For I wish you to understand what it feels like to want only one thing in this world—to want it with every fiber of your being—only to have it denied you.”

And then, without waiting for permission, he swept past her.

For a moment, the soldiers grabbed their weapons. Even from afar, they sensed the queen’s distress. But she shook her head, and they let Arken pass.

She had found the strength to deny him, once. But perhaps that strength had broken, just as surely as his devotion.

***

Read the full story

Published in: on February 12, 2014 at 11:01 am  Leave a Comment  
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