The decision to take my first novella Canes and Scales and
turn it into an epic fantasy didn’t come easily. In fact, at first I wanted
write two more novellas and create a series. Luckily Elizabeth North at
Dreamspinner advised me to go for one large novel. Good thing—I’d probably
still fuss over finishing the series.
This time I outlined the chapters, not the norm for me. I’ll
draft rough outlines, but this time I wanted control. I already struggled with
stylistic problems—my writing had changes in the last few years. Of course my
main characters Alasdaire and Linden wanted more page time – what character
doesn’t want more time to shine—but at a certain point they decided not to play
nice with the storyline. They rebelled. Alasdaire and Linden refused to “talk”
to me anymore. It’s a wacky but true concept. The total disconnect drove me batty.
I originally planned to release the novel on its third
anniversary.
That didn’t happen since Alasdaire and Linden delighted in
shunning me. Fine. I shunned them in turn and worked on other short stories and
novels. Ocassionally I’d poke at an earlier chapter that needed work, or
realize I needed a strong new character to help the plot. Unfortunately, the
novel refused to move past a certain sticky chapter.
Until the EUREKA! evening. A mental orgasm provided the
solution. Did I really intend to stage a kidnapping along with more torture?
Much of the novel is based around natural magic. Why wasn’t I listening to the
book? Why not let the magic work for the characters?
Once I moved past my nefarious plans for Alasdaire and
Linden, they worked with me. Together we created an entirely new ending.
Everyone felt happy. Alasdaire escaped kidnapping and torture. Linden escaped
mental disintegration.
And I escaped from thinking I’d never finish my book!
Here’s an exclusive, never see before excerpt:
Enterna Afratair, Supreme Duke of the Southern
Totandia Empire, stared over his dry, desolate realm. A strong full moon washed
light over the land. Twisted analita trees, towering Nerdean roses, and
firespike palms created dark shapes against the horizon. Tonight only a few of
the firespikes had burst into flame. Deeper shadowy areas showed the many
canyons scattered through the realm. In the deep canyon beyond the palace, the
dwindling Sira River still flowed, sluggish but supportive to the crops
cleverly trained to grow against the canyon walls. If the Sira dried up—Enterna
refused to contemplate the disaster. The dry earth had already devoured streams
in many other canyons.
He felt his deep frown carve lines into his stern
features. The simple act made his dry skin ache. When had be turned into a
frail old creature?
He shook his head. Long gone were the satisfying days
when the elves had still occupied large parts of Ardaul, living in the ancient
forests and deep river valleys in peace. The elves had been free to travel as
they pleased, to trade goods and charms. They had bothered no one. They had
tended their shrines and lived for the earth.
During his long-ago youth, Enterna had visited every
remote shrine hiding under the old oak trees in Southern Ardaul’s Summerlands.
The elves had never bothered to establish shrines north of Summerlands. The
vast, largely treeless Great Pastures beyond did not call to them. The shrines
were ancient constructs, yet still attuned to the elves’ natural world. The
journey had been risky but necessary. Every elven ruler needed to keep the
shines alive.
Once the Serpents had decided to flex their lethal
power, they had driven the elves back to their true realm, to sacred
Hast’ntrata, hiding deep in the Nerdean Canyons. The Serpents had tricked those
who wanted to remain into slavery. The Serpents didn’t understand elven
culture. Instead of learning, they destroyed. They had little tolerance for
other races. Enterna found their intolerance ironic. Once the Serpents had been
the different ones, after all, marked by random scale patterns and their odd
slit eyes. Over time, breeding with humans had removed those traits from all
but the royalty. Those warped creatures still celebrated their scales.
In the light of history, banishment did not matter.
The elves belonged in this savage land. The carnivorous canes had brought them
forth from the earth, and here the canes protected them. Over the years, the
Serpent armies had suffered from the canes’ strong protective magic. Under
Enterna’s guidance, the canes’ lethal barriers triumphed to keep out the armies
led by the slithering Serpent kings. Ultimately the Serpents had retreated.
Unfortunately, Hast’ntrata now suffered from the
South Inatoli Desert’s steady northern advance. Viable lands suitable for crops
continuously succumbed to sand and the disappearance of surface water. Despite
strong sorcery, the underground water sources slowly failed.
Enterna shifted to stare into the north. His frown
deepened.
He still mourned for his daughter. What a stubborn
female, exquisite and strong. He had never imagined Anadona capable of blocking
her existence so skillfully. Years ago, Enterna had felt her death like a stab
to the heart. He had warned Anadona not to believe in the aggressive human who
had claimed to love her.
He also wondered about his grandson. Until tonight,
Enterna had felt Anadona’s son in a random manner—he was hard to track due to
his human blood. Enterna reasoned why
bother to make peace? Surely Anadona had taught her son to hate her kin.
Anadona’s death had supplied Enterna a name: Alasdaire.
He smiled. Anadona had given her son a fine elven name.
Tonight Alasdaire’s use of strong elven magic had
burst into Enterna’s mind, awaking him from a troubled sleep. He still couldn’t
believe his half-human grandson owned the power to dreamsave. As far as he
knew, only he owned the fierce power required to weave such a potent spell.
Only profound emotions like hate or love fueled a full dreamsave.
Worst of all, his grandson had saved a Serpent
prince.
The concept horrified Enterna. Granted, his grandson’s
diluted blood added to his ability to love beyond the elven race, but to save a
Serpent? How troublesome. Enterna needed extensive information on this Prince
Linden. He also needed to meet his grandson. It seemed foolish of him to feel
proud of the half-breed’s magical strength. Perhaps the dreamsave was a fluke.
Or perhaps by fluke his grandson nurtured royal
powers that had slowly faded away from the decaying elven court. Enterna suspected
one other in his family still cultivated strong powers, but Deniertaire had
started to embrace darkness and depravity. He had turned away from the earth.
Enterna still wondered whether he should name Deniertaire his heir.
It seemed now he might have another option.
A hot breeze blew sand into Enterna’s eyes. He
blinked away the irritation. Was this to be his kingdom’s sorry fate, to
succumb to the creeping sand? Why had he pushed Anadona to marry her brother?
Enterna had been such a fool. If she had remained and married a strong, fierce
noble, Enterna could hope magic might strengthen enough to save the kingdom
from the sand. Anadona had strong natural magic in her soul. She must have
passed the power to Alasdaire.
Weariness passed through his body. Perhaps the time
had come to yield to the Raven Court’s supreme judgment. He had lived for
entirely too long. As he sighed, Enterna turned and walked through the
struggling royal gardens. The gardeners tried but failed to make the expanse
look cheerful. Only the bloodred Nerdean roses looked healthy.
The fantastically carved limestone palace loomed
before him, looking eerie in the moonlight. Wind and sandstorms had transformed
the walls into wild curves. A few of the tallest towers had been abandoned. The
crumbling structures could no longer support habitation. Perhaps the time had
also come to live in the canyons along with the remaining elves. His ancestors
had constructed the palace long before the sand began consuming the earth. Why
struggle to maintain it for the remaining nobles?
A glass of rose wine sounded perfect. Enterna stepped
forward.
He stopped.
Dizziness claimed his balance. His sight blurred,
softening the palace walls into sand wisps. The sensation of fading away ate at
Enterna’s consciousness. The sound of his knees hitting the pale flagstones
seemed too loud. How had someone pushed past his strong magical wards? He
slumped to his side. His body shuddered. He tried to resist the attack. Somehow
the force intensified.
Who dared to…?
Voices sounded around him. The warmth of the
flagstones pressed against his cheek. As darkness claimed him, he sought to
discover who had dared to spell him.
He fought until a blazing spell signature appeared to
him in mocking triumph.
How sad.
Before the hungry magical darkness swallowed him,
Enterna focused and willed his power toward the remote elven shrine dedicated
to Tadn’nast, the Stormraven. He hoped he could make the journey.
Soul wind pushed him forward, away from his body.
Enterna allowed his soul to rise. Borne on the wings of the ravens, his soul
fled from his compromised body.
Could he look back? Yes. His body lay still against the flagstones.
The dismal sight urged him on.
Do you have a favorite Elf? Comment and enter to win a selection of my books: two novellas, two short stories and special surprises!
