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Blood & Soul Teaser

September 28, 2013 4 comments

Creed of Kings Saga BannerBandSsmallRevealed here for the very first time is a rough draft of the “dust jacket” of my heroic fantasy fiction book Blood & Soul. Think of it like movie preview or a teaser. I submit this work in progress for your cheers or jeers:

The face of the holy man glowed in the amber light of the campfire, “The myths and legends of Agontica tell the tale of a clouded world over two millennia ago ruled by darkness and demons until a man with godlike powers banished them to the mist of the underworld. He sealed them away by pouring a chalice of his own blood into the portal. You know him as Troban, the founder of the Midvast and its capital, Roxin. The history of Troban’s life dimmed with the passing of the years and he’s often mocked in the theaters of the city. In the years of his long reign he sent forth great men to collect books of wisdom from across the continent and seas to help him rule his kingdom. He entitled the collection, Creed of Kings. Near the end of his many days he was visited by a bright and beautiful vision in the King’s Hills above Roxin in the shadow of Quuma’s ancient temple on the edge of the encroaching forest. The horde lords of the demons he had banished once worshiped there. He had preserved the temple as a souvenir of his victory. As the vision intensified, Troban could not bear to look at it but for an instant through narrowed eyes. A voice from within the light terrified him, but also comforted him. He fell to his feeble knees and listened. On his death bed, he referred to this voice as the Rival. The being’s voice shook earth and stars but calmed Troban’s soul. The Rival had ordered Troban to tear down Quuma’s temple and then shocked him by saying the Creed of Kings would kill the gods and goddesses of mankind. Preserve it for the ages.”

“Why didn’t he tear down the temple?” asked Ledarrin.

“He thought it was too beautiful,” answered the holy man.

“Why was the Creed not preserved?”

“The Order of the Creed was established in the time of Troban but they were ostracized and regarded as zealots and scattered five-hundred years ago.” The holy man peered through the edge of his eyes at Ledarrin, “In this new age, it would be a very uncomfortable book for the shamans to read, much less study the Creed of Kings.”

Two-thousand years after Troban established realm of the Midvast. Mathagel, the pureblood son of King Athorigan impatiently waits to inherit the throne of the Midvast to perfect the realm with his bold purpose. It is his undeniable fate. He was born to receive the honor of his heritage. Mathagel’s younger brother, Ledarrin, is the bastard son of the king, unworthy of the throne and fated for futility. King Athorigan promised Ledarrin’s mother, before her death, to raise the boy in his vast palace. The boy grew to manhood in shadows of his royal father and jealous brother.  Ledarrin marries his love, Nikea, the beautiful daughter of Chief Sogg of the Wolf Clan, the lords of the plains. Secure in the palace Nikea struggles inwardly to cope with her gift. Sometimes, to her distress, she glimpses the spirit world and the future. She sees a future that threatens Mathagel’s ascendency to the throne. Mathagel is enraged when he learns of it. No one should question his destiny for his lineage is directly from Troban and sanctioned by the gods. Mathagel captures Ledarrin and the king. While they await execution before the people for conspiracy against the realm, Mathagel threatens Nikea by demanding that she should see a future where he is king. She refuses, so, he murders her. Ledarrin’s world is shattered. But, the pureblood son is a puppet in his own realm, used by Urbak, the Great Shaman who secretly worships Quuma. He has infiltrated the Shrine of Deities in a plot to reverse Troban’s spell in preparation for the Gray Day, the day of demons, which coincides with an eclipse of the sun. As the day approaches, the hope to hold back the horde of horror is slipping away. The world hangs in the balance as Ledarrin struggles between avenging his murdered wife and finding the Creed of Kings, which contains the knowledge to hold the demons in the underworld. He has to forge a new path, embrace a future beyond the shadows of his former life in the palace and into the light of his volition and courage. But his inner doubts and foes, both obvious and subtle, rise to thwart his quest for Creed of Kings. Everything, his family, his friends, his world will be destroyed or saved in one moment. He discovers a secret from his past that reveals him as the only one who can stop Quuma and the rise of the demon horde. It will be the difference between blood and soul.

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Blood & Soul Closer to Publishing

September 15, 2013 Leave a comment

I’ve been staying away from facebook and blogging as I was days beyond the goal of finishing my project on Aug 31. Today, I crossed the finish line on the 7th draft. My first heroic fantasy, Blood & Soul, is complete!

It’s a standalone novel that launches an epic series I’ve dubbed, The Creed of Kings Saga. Technically you might say it’s in the can, meaning all the parts are there and in order. It needs buffing and finishing. That’s where my test readers come in. It’s like a concept airplane sitting in the hanger waiting for test pilots.
A lot of my friends and net-friends i.e. facebook friends, have been asking to read it. You’ll have to wait a little while longer. I’m taking a break for a couple of weeks to begin projects related to promoting my book: what you would call an author’s platform, which I already have the basic design in place.
When I return to Blood & Soul it will be to convert it to an e-book so I can cheaply distribute it to my “test pilots.” I’ll give those brave souls instructions at that time.
Then there is even more work for me! I can probably go public with the book by late Nov or Dec. But, I decided to wait until Jan of 2014.

Do you ever feel like a Picasso?

June 27, 2012 5 comments

I mean seriously. Look at this thing. I don’t like Picasso’s art work for the most part. When I see a work of art I look for beauty. Something that makes me go “Ah yes …very nice”. Perhaps Picasso is accurate about aspects of life and reflects those well but he’s not cheerful. In this world full of cruel irony and lost sentimentalism, I frown when I look at this thing.

I wouldn’t have one of his paintings in my house. However, this is how I feel today; disjointed, out of place, broken and thrown back together as if the maker lost his plans and guessed where things might go.

The music is far from the instrument, my hands are small, eyes are lifeless. I can’t figure out what goes with what. I’m sitting in my own lap, licking my own tongue. Shadows with no maker. I feel this is how people see me too …at least for now. But, my hands tremble as I calmly assure them …this is not me …let me get myself together. I plead …please wait. I am impatient with me too …and justly so …and I’m growing that way with the world.

Is my vision disjointed? What corrections can you make? With one move the picture could focus or fall apart.  Because I’m disjointed my strength fails me. I’m three people or just one. Blocky, square, rounded and colorful but unmatched. My clothes are out of style. Victim of cubism and the cry of a collage life. I am pieces of discarding beginnings. Shadows look through me and reach around. I’m hooded and lonely like a leper. Am I here or there? My jaws out of joint and mute like the painting.

For God’s sake …please know that this is not me. From afar you’ve seen pieces and set them together with innocent misconceptions. To know me fully will help you arrange these snap shots, these flat squares of my life that hang on the walls of your heart. It is not me. I, the momentary broken Humpty Dumpty, as all the king’s men shake their mythical heads. Pray I can be put back together, at least partially and put back upon the wall. With a little help from my friends and the best that’s in me and the God I’ve doubted I shall reunite my broken hinges.

The older I get I realize nothing is wrong with being a healthily co-dependent (though I’m been doggedly independent) and that the high point over two promising hearts holding hands is a God on high who shines wisdom into their hearts. All else is vanity and if doubting becomes your master you end up like a Picasso.

Do you ever feel like a Picasso?

Getting Older

September 18, 2011 Leave a comment

Getting older… Getting over …vanity of youth …insanity of fad …from the blind side of sought and the wrong side of ought. Journey out of the naiveté, but ache and wonder resides and spills from the cloven seasons of my heart, even as I laugh, life moves in for the kill.

What was the future is beyond my furrowed brow, but somehow, brightness shines in the valleys between far away thrills, bridging the distance of that old resistance in an instance, to other hidden fields. The wonders of pain and stain, of sunshine and gain are all in the palm of my gazing mind, reshaping, improving thoughts that were blind or unkind. With a thought quick as a glance, smooth as a changing stance, leaping on the tip of icebergs galore, foundations of floating depth explored.

I’m not what I pretended, less than I intended and far less than I apprehended. There is grander I cannot grasp…a pleasant and powerful undercurrent to life parallels the misery, sensed only with my meager knack to detect wonder, as I stand astride two destinies, one good, one nil. Seems to me truth is more ancient than light, rolling like waves with such force I crouch to the deck on my squeaky little ship. There is more air than I can breathe more sun than I can soak up or see.

Life will rob you of peace, but think of no other riches than those of heart. Life takes its toll but strive for no other greatness than that of soul.

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