In Blade of Truth, 18-year-old Bronwyn Darrow convinces his mum to let him enlist in the Aruam Castle Army. She’s hesitant, but understands he doesn’t want to follow in his brothers’ or granddad’s footsteps.

Here’s a snippet from the short story. Details on where to find the eBook free for your Kindle below.

“Mum.” His voice sounded softer than he anticipated.

“Yes, dear,”

Blade of Truth book coverHis hands warmed and formed a cloud of moisture on the steel near where his fingers touched the fork. “Would you be upset if I didn’t become a wainwright with Joris and Calder?”

Maisie stopped washing the dishes. The skin on her face tightened. “Did you want to join your granddad making waggon wheels?”

“No.” His swallow hurt his throat.

“Do you plan on staying on at the bakery? We need another full-time worker. Our feet walk slower these days.”

“Mum.” Bronwyn left the table and leant on the counter next to her. “Mum, I want to enlist. It’s my only desire.”

“Bronwyn, you are so young.” His mother sighed. “Why don’t you wait until you’re older?”

“Would it make you happy if I waited?” He didn’t want to disappoint her. He loved her and respected her opinion.

“Being a soldier is dangerous work. As I’ve said before, I’d prefer it if you left the job to men more experienced.”

“I can’t become experienced unless I complete the training. No one can. I’m good with the sword, Mum. You know that. I practise every day. I’m strong and fast.”

“Bronwyn, I’m not certain how I would cope if you…”

“Mum, I’ve grown up. You can’t protect me forever.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. “You taught me to always do what I believed in. I believe I can do this. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Maisie hugged him. “I know you are wise and strong. I know you would be the best soldier the castle ever had.”

A wave of relief consumed him. She’d finally agree to his trade choice.

“But you’re my baby.”

He rolled his eyes and endeavoured to defend his maturity, but she stopped him and continued her speech.

“Promise me one thing.” She gazed into his eyes as if to gather courage to grant his heart’s desire. “Promise me you will wait until the next waning moon to enlist. During this time, I want you to learn more about what is expected of a full-time soldier. I want you to think about the benefits and the drawbacks. Once this time passes,”—she paused, and he heard her swallow hard—, “if you still feel this is your calling, I will give you my blessing.”

He lifted her into the air and spun her around. “Thank you, Mum!” He set her down and hugged her tightly. “Thank you. I will not let you down. I gladly make the promise.”

This is the last day of the sale. Get your free copy of Blade of Truth for you Kindle here:

February is Fantasy Month

Blade of Truth book coverBronwyn’s 18 years old. He wants to be seen as an adult, but as the baby of the family, his family still treats him like a child. Here’s a snippet from Blade of Truth, the short story that exposes Bronwyn’s back story.

Bronwyn’s older sisters, Rhiannon and Loran, sat at the table eating. They worked as apprentices at the nearby dress shop and often talked about opening their own shop one day.

“After today, you won’t have time to play with your silly sword.” Rhiannon winked at Loran.

“You’ll have to work like the rest of us,” said Loran.

“My sword is mighty, not silly.” He frowned. “And I already work. Don’t I, Mum?” Every day, he stocked shelves and ran orders for the family’s shop.

Maisie guided the bacon and eggs from the pan to his plate. “Of course. He is my best helper.”

His sisters giggled.

Worker,” he corrected.

“That’s right, dear.” Maisie eyed her daughters. “He does more work around the shop than you two did. You were too busy ogling boys. You better hurry or you’ll be late. Ole Miss Purdy frowns on tardiness.”

Get your free copy of Blade of Truth for your Kindle here:

Sale runs for February 4th, 5th and 6th.

February is Fantasy Month

Blade of Truth book coverAs we continue to celebrate February is Fantasy Month, the eBook Blade of Truth is free for three days, starting today. The short story stars Bronwyn Darrow, who is an 18-year-old student who’s planning his final days in Study Class.

In it, we learn of Bronwyn’s obsession with the sword.

Bronwyn drew a soft brown rag along the blade of his short sword, wiping it one more time before sliding it into the leather scabbard. He savoured the weariness in his muscles after the vigorous workout. If permitted to do so, he would continue to practice in the backyard all day. The sensation created when the sword reached its apex, then whipped around as if a thousand horses pulled it, exhilarated him.

Description

Innocence is shattered when a young man falls victim to a horrible prank.

Youth and innocence still reside in Bronwyn Darrow.

When he attends a celebration with the girl he admires most, he’s elated but extremely nervous.

He hopes the night will be one they’ll never forget. Instead, he should have hoped for one easily forgotten.

Pick up your copy here:

Enjoy.

February is Fantasy Month

Destiny Governed their LivesIn the short story Destiny Governed their Lives, Catriona Wheatcroft, an apprentice, has snatched a scroll from her teacher’s dwelling and is attempting to cast the Sight Visitation Spell. The recipe might sound easy, but if done incorrectly by an inexperienced hand, it could cause irreparable damage.

The Basic Recipe

  • Water
  • Oil of the green olive
  • Whole seed from yellow rattle grass (gives strength to the eyes and allows the caster to see the image clearly)
  • Eyebright (gives the eyes power to see)
  • Fennel (Aids in opening things)

A Snippet

The following is the passage detailing Catriona mixing the ingredients.

She paused and looked at the many dishes in front of her. If she mixed them correctly, she’d work her first worthy spell. Steadying her hand, she carefully picked up the oil of green olive and poured it into the wooden bowl. As the recipe instructed, she stirred three times with a wooden spurtle. This is like baking a cake.

mortar and pestleNext, she picked up the fennel. “Fennel ground to a rough powder using a white agate pestle in a clay mortar. Huh? What’s so special about crushing it with a stone? I’ll use the back of a spoon. That’ll do.”

She held the small dish in her hand and crushed the fennel root with the utensil. Once prepared, she admired her work. “Looks great.” She added this to the oil in the bowl.

For almost half an hour, she added, stirred and crushed the ingredients together in the proper order. She stared at the finished concoction. I hope this works. If it doesn’t, what a mess to clean up for nothing.

Today and tomorrow, the eBook is free to download at Amazon. Find it here:

Enjoy.

February is Fantasy Month

Ocean Between Them 5x5Cindy Fletcher rocked back and forth with the rhythm of the boat. She kept telling herself she knew where she was, but her inner voice wouldn’t listen; it knew she was lost. She pulled her hoodie around her and peered into the thick, white fog. It had consumed the row boat within minutes, erasing the shoreline and casting Cindy and her childhood friend, Michelle Purdy, into a cloud-like world.

The fog had devoured every sound save the oars striking the water. Michelle rowed in the direction both believed would take them to the wharf where they had rented the boat. In thirty minutes, it would be Cindy’s turn to row again. It would also be 7:00 pm, marking the fourth hour in the fog.

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Mutated Blood Lines - Diane Lynn McGyverExcerpt from the short story, Mutated Blood Lines…

Autumn watched the dust swirl into the air. The narrow drive to her cottage was drier than usual. Rain was expected, but hesitated to fall. As the Jeep sped toward her dwelling, she released a calming breath. She heard a thump behind her and footsteps fade into stone. Alone, she organised her thoughts and prepared her defence for when her younger sibling arrived.

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Diane Lynn McGyverExert from The Man Who Reads Obituaries by Diane Lynn McGyer

The drone from the machinery sealed my eyelids, enticing me to linger in the weightlessness of sleep. Time passed peacefully there, with dreams that confirmed I still breathed…still lived. Urges existed in dreamland; urges to eat, urges to copulate, urges to explore…things I no longer possessed while conscious.

I missed my body’s impulse to urinate; the nurses had even denied me of that primitive need. I imagined the clear tube stretching from my limp penis to the rubber bag dangling beside the bed, and I wondered about the nurse’s reaction if I removed it to feel the urge to pee one last time.

Footsteps disrupted my thoughts, and clicking shoes entered the room. Without opening my eyes, I knew it to be young Maggie Mac…something, a young woman gifted with beauty but not tolerance for the dying. She stopped near the bed. A whiff of her perfume permeated the air as she leant forward, checking to see if the devil had claimed me yet.

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