Author Interview With Lenore Wolfe :D

Hello Blogosphere,

So here we are with the fourth post in the International Indie Author Blog Hop! Today on the blog we have a wonderful chat with author Lenore Wolfe about her paranormal novel, Doorway of the Triquetra, and her western romance novel, Dark Warrior. And oh does she spill some tea (gossip details) ladies and gentlemen! So let's get some business out of the way first before we give you guys a little look into her creative author mind, shall we?

Dark Warrior

Book Blurb:

Amanda Kane has always had visions of the man she's destined to marry--a cowboy who will help her save her ranch. But Hawk is no ordinary cowboy. He carries a powerful secret. A secret that leads to betrayal. She spent years with a secret society of Lakota women, who taught her the ancient ways. Now, she must seek the Grandmothers, from beyond the veil, if they are stop a man behind a mask.

Book Excerpt:

 
He was magnificent—standing there, waiting for her to reach his side. And soon after she did, their lives became irrevocably woven together. Mandy likened it to a silvery, invisible thread, joining their hearts. And she knew the Grandmothers smiled.

She felt rebellious, right now, with their sure vision of her path. A path with the Hawk . . . their lives entwined. Her heart pounded—fanciful thoughts. But her mind soon followed down the path her heart had taken, with what would have been—could have been—had she not insisted this marriage be—in name only.

She had done so, only an hour ago, and he had only looked at her, an unreadable gleam in his eyes. He hadn’t argued, hadn’t said one word.
She had wanted to cry.

“Second thoughts already?” his whisper caressed her face.

Meg hugged her, then, and ran off to take care of their hotel.

Mandy frowned as she watched her friend disappear. Meg was clearly enjoying this—too much. She shook her head at Hawk. “No, the marriage has its merits,” she answered, trying for a neutral tone.

He let that jab slide, grinning. “I wasn’t talking about the marriage—exactly.”

Startled, she looked up and was captured, completely off guard, by the intense look in his gold eyes. He’d read her mind, again, drat the man, or was her body giving her away?

She should look away—really she should—but suddenly, she couldn’t remember why.

“Give over Mandy,” he whispered. His gaze refusing to release her from the fine thread he was weaving around her. She was caressed by it—captured by it. And each time, the web grew stronger. “You want this marriage in every way, every bit as much as I, admit it, Mandy,” his low voice fanned the flames.

Mandy opened her mouth, then shut it. She fought for control, lost, and opened her mouth, again, but the words of denial wouldn’t come.

His hand touched the side of her face, his thumb sliding possessively over her lips, stroking her bottom lip again, and again, until she thought she would faint with pleasure.

She’d made a fatal mistake with her heart, thinking she could control this. She should have listened to the danger signs—to all the warnings, and now, it was too late. There was no holding back—any part of her, at least, not anything strong enough to hold back this tide of love—and desire. Even though, the love part lay only on her side.

She’d been a fool

And her heart was going to pay the price, but she couldn’t stop, now.

Hawk’s intense, green-gold eyes searched her face, knew the exact instant she surrendered, and only by iron will did he wait to hear the words.

Words avowing her complete surrender.

She nodded.

He shook his head. “Say it,” he softly commanded. “Tell me what you want.”

Mandy’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips and heard Hawk groan. She swallowed, her eyes closing for a moment with her body’s reaction to that simple sound. The fires were rapidly burning out of control. “You.” She looked into his golden gaze. “I want you.”

Hawk picked her up and walked straight out of Doc’s house and across the street to the hotel, where he’d rented a room for the night.

Doorway of the Triquetra
Book Blurb:

When an ancient medallion is passed down to her, Mira is not happy to learn she is the next Jaguar Witch, bound by the blood of the Jaguar, to cross the doorway and learn the Way of the Stone. She must find the Doorway of the Triquetra, but each move she makes only leads her to a deeper mystery, where all of her past lives are bound--to four immortal men.

Extended Book Blurb:

On the misty streets of Saint Louis, late at one night, Mira spots something she could not possibly be seeing on these city streets, unless the zoo has lost a large black cat, a jaguar to be exact. When she peeks to see if the cat has come after her, an old woman stands before her, long, black hair, threaded with black fur, and shot through with silver, falls down the old woman's back. She cannot get a sense of her age. Mira senses the jaguar she'd spotted, only moments before, in the movements of this old woman before her. One moment, she appears very old, the next, strong and supple. Her eyes have a strange mixture of yellow-gold, and dark gray. She hands Mira a large, silver disk. Mira looks down at the ancient disk, to find she is holding some kind of medallion, engraved with Hebrew lettering, and when she looks up, the old woman is gone.

The answers to the medallion lead her on a journey to find the Doorway of the Triquerta and revelations of her kin, the Jaguar people, the ancient shapeshifters. Before the doorway stands an old dragon. He is the keeper of the doorway. Once the doorway is open, she can see across the veil. There is no turning back. There is no shutting the door, once it's opened. Mira must find a way to go through the doorway. She is kin to the Jaguar People. She must walk the dangerous path of the Way of the Stone and live to write the book, a key to those who can perceive that which they cannot see. But she must journey into the underworld and learn ancient mysteries to be the living key--and there are those who do not want this book written--and will do anything to stop her.

The old woman's words lead Mira to Denver, Colorado where she finds herself at a huge, gothic mansion and meets a handsome man, by the name of Micah, who shows her how the paths she has taken, in her past lives, have led her to this place, now, in her current life. She must learn to integrate her past lives to succeed in taking her rightful place as the next Jaguar Witch to walk the Way of the Stone. Mira also meets a man in silver and white, named Lucius, and two other men, named Roman and Caesar, named after the lifetimes they had led in Rome. These four men have come to awaken her, to help her remember her past lives, and the part they will play now.
Mira must come into her next power to stop forces, who will do anything to stop her. The old woman comes to her, again, and teaches her the magic of shape-shifting. She is part of an ancient clan of shape-shifters, the Jaguar People. Magic presses in on her everywhere. She must fight old fears, taught to her by the church, and remember knowledge of things she does not want to remember, things that will bring back an evil sorcerer, who has destroyed her before. Forces of chaos press in on her. Behind every corner hides another attempt on her life, and she does not know what power lies waiting to destroy her, in this lifetime, too, if she should fail, yet again. Not everything is as it seems.

And now, who's ready to hear some spilt tea? Without further ado here is our chat with author Lenore Wolfe:

1. In seven words or less, how would you describe your novel Dark Warrior? Paranormal Doorway to the Triquetra?

Dark Warrior: LOL Love and gunfighters don't mix:)

Doorway of the Triquetra: Mira is the next Jaguar Witch.

2. Where did your draw your inspiration for your stories?

For my Western romance: I began reading romance at 13. Sheesh that's young--I'm not sure what my mother was thinking:) But my father was an old mountain man, who grew up around the old-time cowboys of Montana. (These were old cowboys who witnessed a time when cars and barbed wire fences took over). I also grew up listening to the stories my great-grandmother used to tell. She was born in 1887. And Montana was still wild when my father was a child--and still had family feuds when I was a child. So I grew up with old stories.

I love the complexities and heartbreaking nuances of love. And I love history, so these two loves naturally went together for me.

For my paranormal: I was raised very religious, but I was spiritual and earth based. These two things put me at odds with myself, so though it took me years to break myself free, when I did, I found that I very much believe in a full-blown spirit world--that many only give lip service to. The spirit world both fascinates me, and challenges me to learn more.

From there, it didn't take much for me to play the 'what if' game. And 'what ifs' have lead to many interesting ideas and stories--if I can get them all down on paper:)

3. Which one of your characters, in either novel, do you relate to most, if any?

Hawk. He's as mysterious and changing as the wild west use to be. He is the picture of spirit, and the mountains I miss.

4. Do you have a current work in progress you would like to share with us?

Yes. I am working on a dark thriller called The Fallen One. He is from the Jaguar people, but he grew up defending himself from gangs on the streets of Chicago, and that caused him to gain his powers, and change, early in life, leading him to use those powers for his own, and his sisters, protection. As an adult, he struggles with the man he wishes to be, and the monster he has become.

She is also from the Jaguar People, but she grew up learning to use her powers naturally--to protect the human race.

5. What element of your stories did you enjoy writing the most and why?

Spirit. I'm continually fascinated with what we say we believe about our world--and what continues to tease us about our world. For example, what drives so many to enjoy reading about the paranormal world? To me, this is a blend of spirit, mixed with a longing of some sort mystery, which sits outside our consciousness and provokes us into becoming--and if we can't do that, it provokes us into trying to lose ourselves into our addictions so that we no longer feel the call.

6. What is your favorite thing to do when you’re not writing?

Anything that gets me outdoors in the sunshine--which I am not getting enough of sitting indoors and marketing all the time LOL

7. We know that writing is a lot of work. Some days scenes flow well, but other days they make you want to pull your hair out. How do you get over the days where you feel nothing in your story is coming together?

I stop and take a few minutes. When it's difficult, it's a sure sign you're missing something--or you're on the wrong path altogether.

8. If you could have a paranormal power or be a certain creature, what would it be?

A shapeshifter--a jaguar. I've been completely intrigued by big cats since I can remember, and that fascination floors me when it comes to the jaguar.

9. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you want to call home?

I'd probably go back to Alaska. It's the wildness, I miss.

Now, we know you're all asking yourself, where can I find these books? Well, here are a few places where you can find Lenore Wolfe’s Works:

Smashwords:

Dark Warrior:

http://cache.smashwire.com/bookCovers/772b814a23ee7a9ea07480d03728a028d3a9a0d4-thumb

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43163

Doorway of the Triquetra:

http://cache.smashwire.com/bookCovers/9b88c03b1d13010f59e4484d1b02064414545df1-thumb

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/66334

Amazon:

Dark Warrior:

http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Warrior-Dark-Cloth-ebook/dp/B004OL2J82/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309363052&sr=8-1

Doorway of the Triquetra:

http://www.amazon.com/Doorway-Triquetra-Children-Atlantis-ebook/dp/B0055OGW8U/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1

Barnes and Noble:

Dark Warrior:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dark-warrior-lenore-wolfe/1031072934?ean=2940012460998&itm=2&usri=lenore%2bwolfe

Paranormal Doorway of the Triquetra:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/paranormal-doorway-to-the-triquetra-lenore-wolfe/1031510256?ean=2940012944023&itm=1&usri=lenore%2bwolfe

Today, July 26th is the next stop for the Indie Author Blog Hop. So make sure you hop on over to these sites for more spilt tea:

A Teaser of Reena Jacob’s paranormal romance, Shadow Cat, on Katie M. John's blog.

Excerpt for Angel Haze's thriller, Bloodletter, on Reena Jacobs's blog. 

*Don't Forget To Enter The Huge Indie Author Blog Hop Giveaway!* http://www.angelhaze.com/2011/07/01/blog-hop/

The Cauldron Has Spoken...We Have Our Giveaway Winners!!!

Heya Everyone!

First of all, we'd love to thank everyone who entered and spread the word about our giveaway! So, we officially made it to 2,000 Tweeps on Twitter last Friday, and as promised we're giving away 3 The Childe swag packs. Just in case you all were wondering how we chose our winners, here's a little breakdown: for every point you received, we wrote your name down that many times. Then we cut them all out and put them into our "Lucky" witch cauldron, and then randomly drew out three names (a little old school...we know, haha). So without further ado...HERE ARE THE WINNERS!!!

Becky

Riley

&

Zareen

We will be holding many more giveaways in the future, especially with our second book's release just around the corner! So do keep a look out for those. Thank you all again for entering! WE LOVE ALL OF OUR TWEEPS!

Happy Reading,

C.A. Kunz
(Carol and Adam Kunz) 

Author Interview With Jeffrey Martin

Hiya Blogosphere!

It's our third post for the Indie Author Blog Hop, and do we have a treat for you all today! We had the pleasure of chatting with Author Jeffrey Martin on the blog about himself, his book, and we even got him to spill some tea (gossip/details). But first, we need to take care of some business, and present you with a little blurb for Jeffrey Martin's thriller novel 3:16:

For most people, an experience with social networking helps them connect with new acquaintances and bridge the gap between long-lost friends. But one man has adopted its resources to fulfill a more sinister agenda.

Brandon Thornley uses the database to search for potential victims as he feeds his thirst for blood. What Brandon doesn’t realize is that someone has accepted his request…and this person is even more ruthless than him.

New Haven Police Detective Patrick Morgan is assigned to investigate a string of ritualistic murders, which leads him to discover that the killer has left behind something valuable.Armed with the evidence he needs to bring a madman to justice, Detective Morgan sets his sights on his target. Unfortunately for him, he’s not the only one, and his competition will do anything to ensure he fails.

And now the moment you've all been wating for...our interview with Author Jeffrey Martin:

1. In seven words or less, how would you describe your novel 3:16?

Social Networking and serial killer collide!


2. What are you currently working on now?

I’m working on three projects right now. The first, is a novella titled, Cupid’s Kill. I have brought back my two protagonists from Deadly Demented, Brian Jeffers and Kelli Jordan, and this time they try to catch a serial killer who extracts the human heart of his victims, replacing it with something you won’t believe…. Hehe.

The next is a digital novella, author collaboration with Giovanni Gelati titled, Forsaken. It’s about a serial killer, who leaves a unique calling card at the feet of all of his victims. A calling card written in blood!

My third project is my fourth novel, Weaving Evil. A female serial killer utilizes the poisonous toxins of the Brown, Recluse, Black Widow, African Bannana Spider, and many other dangerous arachnid to take revenge on her male victims.

3. Where did your draw your inspiration for your story 3:16?

I watch how social networking has become the kool-aid for today’s trendy, and if you could add a serial killer utilizing it for his own personal pleasure, it would be very intriguing indeed.  

4. What do you enjoy doing when you're not writing?

I spend a great deal of free time, on a rigorous physical fitness routine, and enjoy the adrenalin I get from that, to start my creative juices.

5. What writer(s) has been a big influence on you and your writing?

There are two authors in particular, whom I attribute my interest in pursuing the writing field. The first is, John Saul. I remember reading his books in high school, and the teenage protagonist was perfect for me. Mixing in horror and suspense was something I believe he did with perfection. Plus, being a teenager myself, I could truly identify with his main character. (No, I didn’t kill any adult in a horrific manner… lol). The second author is John Sandford. I read his books, while I was in the Marine Corps and the Lucas Davenport series was one of the best I have ever experienced. Using a Midwest Law Enforcement official hit close to home, because I was from there, and it was easy to identify with the places he mentions in his work. To this day, I think Lucas Davenport is out there, catching evil-doers and running his software company…

6. What element of your story did you enjoy writing the most and why?

I enjoyed incorporating the true meaning to the 3:16 title, and creating another subplot, that really made the book what is is.

7. Do you have anything in common with your main character?

I think Brian Jeffers from my first two novels, is a pretty accurate account of who I am, and what makes me tick. I put a great deal of energy into him, and it seems, most people enjoy him as a featured protagonist.

8. If you could have a paranormal power or be any type of creature, what would it be?

I would like to have ESP. The ability to see the future, and be able to make changes accordingly. Boy, do I have a good paranormal story in mind for next year.

9. What is your favorite book that has been made into a movie?

The Lovely Bones would have to be favorite. The casting for the appropriate parts were outstanding. The female lead playing Susie Salmon made the movie what it was. A very great book, turned into a wonderful heart-touching film.



Here are just a few places where you can connect with Jeffrey Martin to check him and his work out:

http://jeffreymartinsnovels.wordpress.com/

http://crimespace.ning.com/profile/JeffreyMartin

http://www.myspace.com/jeffreymartinjr

http://www.facebook.com/people/Jeffrey-Martin-Jr/1401920522

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jeffrey-Martin-Jr/86427366235

http://astore.amazon.com/jefsmys-20/detail/0578070391

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1935407015?ie=UTF8&tag=jefsmys-
20&linkCode=xm2&camp=1789&creativeASIN=1935407015

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0982115032?ie=UTF8&tag=jefsmys-20&linkCode=xm2&camp=1789&creativeASIN=0982115032

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0030GFC5O?ie=UTF8&tag=jefsmys-20&link_code=as3&camp=211189&creative=373489&creativeASIN=B0030GFC5O

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/22465

http://www.amazon.com/Misery-Unleashed-ebook/dp/B004ZM8O3E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1304725070&sr=1-1

July 21st is the next stop for the Indie Author Blog Hop. So make sure you hop on over to these sites for more spilt tea:

Reena Jacobs hosts an interview with Angel Haze about her thriller, Bloodletter.
Angel Haze interviews us on her blog.

*Don't Forget To Enter The Huge Indie Author Blog Hop Giveaway!* http://www.angelhaze.com/2011/07/01/blog-hop/

2,000 Tweeps Giveaway!!! :D

Hello Everyone!

So, we have a big announcement tonight on the blog *Drum Roll*. As of right now we're 88 tweeps shy of reaching 2,000 followers on Twitter, and to celebrate we're having a HUGE giveaway :D Just how huge, you're wondering? Well, we're giving away 3 The Childe swag packs, which include a signed paperback copy of The Childe in each! Oh, and we almost forgot, the giveaway is INTERNATIONAL too ;)

So here are the deets for the giveaway:

We're giving away 3 The Childe swag packs once we reach 2000 Twitter followers! Here's a pic of what you get if you win!

Contents of each swag pack:

A personalized/signed paperback copy of The Childe

A The Childe bookmark

A The Childe Button

A moonstone necklace (on a silver chain...mentioned in case you have a allergic reaction to silver) ***Comes in the light purple bag***

A moonstone bracelet ***Comes in the dark purple swirl bag***

To Enter:

*You must be a follower of our blog via Google Friend Connect (GFC) ***Please leave your GFC name***

*Leave a contact email address for notification purposes

Extra Entries:

*Tweet about the giveaway: (Leave the link to your tweet) +2

*Answer the following question in the comments section: If you could have a supernatural power, or be a certain creature, what would it be? +1

Giveaway ends once we reach 2,000 Twitter followers!

Good Luck Everyone! We Wish You Books...And Swag! :D

Author Angel Haze Teases Us With Her New YA Fantasy Novel

Hello Blogosphere,

So welcome to our second post for the Indie Author Blog Hop! Today on the blog, we have the pleasure of hosting Author Angel Haze for a teaser/exceprt from her new YA Fantasy Novel, Legacies of Talimura: War of the Witch. Oh, and what a teaser it is! It's the entire first chapter :D So, without further ado, here it is:

Legacies of Talimura: War of the Witch

Chapter 1:

Smoke and Ash

You’re surrounded, Astanyx thought as he waited silently behind a bush, his hands steady, pulling back the string on his short bow. Barclay was positioned twenty feet to his left and Ramza to his right, each armed and ready, waiting for the opportune moment.

Sweat beaded on his brow from the late afternoon sun, but Astanyx made no attempt to wipe it away. A single wrong move and it would all be over. The forest gave them cover, but it gave their prey cover as well. None of the sixteen-year-olds had a shot, so they waited.

The horacle was hidden behind a tree. It was bigger game than they would normally take on but, once they had come across it, Barclay had insisted upon hunting it, refusing to back down. He claimed that stumbling upon a horacle—a distracted horacle—was too fine of an opportunity to pass up. They had had little luck hunting in the forest that day and Barclay refused to return to the village—return to his father—with little more than a few rabbits. Astanyx couldn’t allow his friend to foolishly attempt to take it down without help, and so he and Ramza had agreed. Patiently, they held their positions.

Every few seconds, the tips of the horacle's horns poked out from behind the side of the great tree, greedy growls becoming muffled as it tore its fangs into the flesh of a rabbit.

It pushed the mutilated rabbit forward with its nose, exposing the beast’s head. Ravenously, it continued to tear its meal apart, wolfing it down as if it hadn’t eaten in weeks. The shine and thickness of the horacle's fur and thick muscular frame told him otherwise. It was merely in the horacle’s nature to be gluttonous and ferocious.

Slowly, it stepped forward, unaware that with each passing second, it was creating an opening for a shot.

The three boys waited with their bows. A few more seconds and Astanyx would have a shot. His body was still as he stared at the horacle with unblinking eyes.

Snarls and growls continued to escape the beast as it exposed its midsection.

One more second. . . .

A twig snapped, breaking the silence, giving away one of the hunters’ positions.  Astanyx’s heart skipped a beat as the horacle’s head shot up, baring its teeth, clenching its three-inch claws. The horacle's nostril flared as it caught Astanyx's scent. Their eyes met and the roles of hunter and hunted instantly became reversed.

He stared with wide eyes as the fiery-eyed beast, blood dripping from its jaws and muscles rippling, began to charge toward him. Stiffness spread over him like a plague, beginning with his feet as it worked its way up. Astanyx managed one shot just as the hundred-pound beast leapt for him.

His arrow pierced the beast between its eyes just as Barclay's arrow struck the horacle's side. The beast released a ghastly shriek as it drew back in agony before it collapsing to the forest floor, a few feet away from Astanyx. He let out a breath, momentarily fixed on the horacle.

Barclay jumped from his hiding spot, dagger in hand, and sliced the horacle’s throat. He laughed and turned to Astanyx. “See? What did I tell you?”

Astanyx narrowed his eyes, his lips parting slightly as he slowly looked up in disbelief. He could hardly suppress the wave of emotions as he watched Barclay nonchalantly wipe the blood from his blade. Shaking his head, Astanyx turned to Ramza who rolled his eyes, both aware they had encountered an unnecessary close call.

Barclay cut down a branch from the great tree, one that would be strong enough to carry the horacle back to the village.

As they tied the horacle’s feet to the branch, Astanyx turned to Barclay, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “I don’t see why you had to take it on. We came out to hunt rabbits. It’s foolish to hunt a hunter just for food.”

“For Shiva’s sake, you could have opted out.”

“Don’t use the goddess’ name in vain,” said Astanyx. “Besides, I wouldn’t allow you to do it on your own.”

“I could have handled it. I killed it, didn’t I?” Barclay said with a smirk.

“We killed it,” Astanyx corrected him.

“Quit your bickering,” Ramza said. “Let’s just bring it to the village. We are already late. They’ll be expecting us to return about now.”

Given the circumstances, Astanyx would have preferred it to be Ramza on the other side of the branch and not Barclay, but he said nothing as they headed east through the dense forest, across the creek and up a hill. They had ventured farther than they had intended and had consequently delayed their return trip to the village by a few hours.

Though he tried to focus on the trail ahead, more than once Astanyx almost threw Barclay to the ground as he tripped over roots that could have easily been missed. Nonetheless, his gaze remained fixed on the beast. Even in death, the power and ferocity of the animal did not diminish. Every few seconds, he caught himself staring at it, watching for any signs of movement, half-expecting it to merely be unconscious and suddenly awaken and attack.

The image of the horacle as it charged at him, eyes burning with fury, blood dripping from its jaws, about to make him its next meal, flashed before Astanyx. What if their arrows had missed? What if two arrows hadn’t been enough? He shuddered, shaking his head of these thoughts. They hadn’t missed.

Even as the beast hung lifelessly from the pole, he wasn’t used to being this close to a predator and a horacle, nonetheless. Squirrels and rabbits were his main catch. His glance went from Barclay to the beast and back to Barclay who was walking proudly ahead.

Astanyx growled. “You could have got us all killed, and for what?”

Barclay looked back over his shoulder and scoffed. “I never miss.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

“Lay off it. Our fathers will be proud.”

“Our fathers would be proud of anything we brought home.”

“Speak for yourself,” Barclay muttered. Then, as if realizing he’d spoken aloud, he confidently added, “This separates the men from the boys.”

Astanyx rolled his eyes. “There is a fine line between bravery and foolishness.”

“Ramza?” Barclay called out. “Please tell me that you at least side with me.”

Five paces ahead, Ramza slowly turned, momentarily catching Astanyx’s gaze before turning to Barclay. “It was a close call. Astanyx has every right to be angry. Remember, it was him who the horacle charged at. If that had been me, I’d be in need of new trousers.”

“If he hadn’t of stepped on that twig, the horacle would’ve been dead before it even noticed we were there,” Barclay said.

Astanyx opened his mouth but Ramza spoke first. “I believe that was my mistake.” Barclay was silent, not knowing where to go with the conversation. “I will say this, though. The horacle will make a fine addition to the feast and,” Ramza said with a smile, “the ladies will be quite impressed as we stroll into the village with this on our shoulders.”

The grin on Barclay’s face matched that of Ramza’s. “How I love Shiva’s Festival.” He laughed. “I believe Claire will be the lady of the night.”

“The chief’s daughter,” Ramza said nodding. “Her beauty surpasses even the most delicate flower.”

“Is she not a few years older than us?” Astanyx asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Barclay snapped.

“I believe she’s interested in—” Immediately, Astanyx regretted ever opening his mouth.

Barclay’s eyes burned with anger. “There’s always something with you, isn’t there? Nothing is ever good enough.”

“That’s not what I said,” Astanyx said.

“It’s the horacle, isn’t it? You just can’t let it go.”

Attached to the pole, Astanyx had no choice but to listen as Barclay reamed into him.

This wasn’t the first time that Barclay’s brash actions had resulted in a near miss. He’d always seemed on a mission to prove himself. However, his efforts had more than doubled in the last few months as the year marked his sixteenth birthday.

Ramza had apparently grown tired of his friends’ bickering and was now several yards ahead. Astanyx found himself wishing he were by his side to mediate the situation and lighten the mood. Ramza, with his walking stick in hand, was nearing the top of the hill which Astanyx and Barclay had only begun to climb.

For a few minutes, he disappeared out of sight. Suddenly, he reappeared at the top of the hill and came barrelling down the hill. “The village!” he cried. “The village! Something’s happened!”

“What?” Barclay and Astanyx asked.

They immediately dropped the horacle as they sprinted up the hill. Astanyx’s heart was racing, fists clenched, arms pumping, anxious to see for himself.

“What happened?” he yelled to Ramza who was almost at the top of the hill. “What did you see?”

Ramza kept running, not so much as glancing over his shoulder.

“Ramza!” Astanyx yelled again, but his friend was too far ahead.

How long had they been gone, he wondered. What could have happened in that short amount of time?

Suddenly, Astanyx caught a hint of smoke and then, as both he and Barclay reached the top of the hill, they stopped short, dropping their jaws. Over the tree tops, thick clouds of smoke hovered over the village of Polca.

We shouldn’t have left! We shouldn’t have stayed out for so long! Astanyx thought frantically as he raced down the hill, tumbling over his own feet.

As they neared Polca, Astanyx could smell the smoke clearly. The whole town was ablaze.

“What happened? Who did this?” Astanyx cried, nearly out of breath. There was no response.

He coughed, inhaling smoke and the stench of burnt flesh. What few buildings hadn't already burned to the ground were collapsing. The fire had spread across the entire village. Little was left but burnt and burning buildings, smoke and ashes floating in the wind.

“What do we do?” Ramza asked.

His mind was spinning. “Search for survivors!” Astanyx shouted, numbness and nausea threatening to overcome him. It wouldn’t help him save anyone . . . if there was anyone left to be saved.  He shook his head of the thought and focused on finding his family and any other survivors.

 Shaking, he ran through the village past burning buildings, and dodging falling objects. He searched for his father—for anyone—but there was no sign of life. Blood and burnt wood stained the ground. Garlands and trinkets made in preparation for the Shiva Festival had been scattered and destroyed. Arrows stuck out of the earth. Soldiers had been here. Someone had come and destroyed Polca.

Again and again, Astanyx called out to his father, his only family, but there was no response.

The smoke grew thicker, stinging his eyes as tears began to well up as the heat of the fire licked his skin.

As he turned the next corner, he gasped. Surrounding the center town well, the dead had been decapitated, their heads staked around a fire to invoke terror. Those who hadn’t been staked had been piled up and burned. He stood, tense, his body shaking as he watched the flickering flames. Slowly, he scanned the burnt and blackened faces of those mounted on stakes. He was able to recognize only a few of them—eyes wide, mouths agape—while others were burned or mutilated beyond recognition. A single tear ran down his cheek as he prayed that his father was not among the poor souls.

He was about to turn away when he noticed, at the base of the fire pit, an odd-looking skull with tusks.

A loud crack startled him and he turned to see Farmer Wilton’s house collapse a few feet away. The walls hit the ground, momentarily breathing life to the blanket of ash beneath it. The ash wisped across his face. His shaky hand slowly wiped it away. 

Soon, there would be nothing left of Polca. Sadness and confusion enveloped him, scrambling his mind. They were all dead. There was nothing left. Even the livestock was missing.

He kept running, anxious to see if his father had survived the attack. Since their house was at the far end of the village, perhaps that distance was enough to keep him out of harm’s way. Astanyx swallowed hard. His father would never cower in the hours while the town was under attack. He would have fought to the death to protect their home.

Suddenly, Astanyx heard what sounded like a wheeze. He gasped. A survivor! Although, he dreaded the thought of abandoning his search for his father, he couldn’t ignore someone in need of help.

Astanyx ran in the direction of the sound, anxious, eyes darting in every direction and he found Thomas, the local blacksmith, trapped under some wood. A building had collapsed with him inside. His face was blackened with soot and smeared with blood. Astanyx tried to lift the piece of wood from Thomas’ chest but it was too heavy.

Thomas was shaking, his skin ashen as he gasped for breath.

“What happened?”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

“What happened?” Astanyx anxiously asked again.

“A-all . . . d-dead,” Thomas said softly enough that Astanyx was unsure if he had heard him correctly. “All . . . dead.”

“What happened?”

“They burned their dead and  . . . staked ours.” Thomas wheezed. His chest fell heavily. “Those they didn’t kill . . . they enslaved.”

“Who did this?”

Thomas didn’t respond. He seemed weak, moments away from his last breath.

“Who did this?” Astanyx repeated, but Thomas had stopped shaking and his eyes had rolled back into his head.

“No!” he cried, shaking Thomas slightly, hoping there was still life in him, but he remained still. “I need to know!” He lowered his head, balling his fists.

“Astanyx!” a voice called out from behind him.

It was Ramza, with Barclay at his side. Their eyes were wide, stricken with horror.

“Did you find them?” Astanyx asked.

They slowly nodded, sadness swelling in their eyes. No further words were exchanged. None needed to be. Their expressions revealed their heartbreaking news. Ramza and Barclay’s families were dead, gone with the rest of the town.

The three of them searched the remainder of the town like zombies, mouths agape, trembling with the revelation of each new horror.

“Father!” Astanyx called once they reached the far side of town where he and his father lived. Despite the odds, he refused to believe his father was among the slain.

Suddenly, a shiver ran up his spine. Through the crackling flames, he saw remnants of what used to be his home. He swallowed, clenching his fists at his sides, and stared at the pile of rubble. All that he had ever known had been destroyed. His mind went numb.

He lowered his head.

Then, he heard something—a muffled sound that could have been human or merely a gust of wind. He stood motionlessly, straining to hear over the wind and crackling flames. As he was about to dismiss it, he heard it again. A voice! Someone was alive. His breath caught in his throat as he attempted to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. He zigzagged along the road, following the call.

“Where are you?” he called.

“Over here.” The voice was close.

“Where?” He frantically searched the road and the fallen buildings.

“I’m here,” the voice said. It was closer but weaker, seemingly coming from his right.

Astanyx turned and saw a pile of rubble. He tore through it in search of the survivor, Ramza and Barclay following suit.

“Where are you? Where are you?”

“Astanyx,” the voice said. “Is that you?”

His eyes widened at the mentioning of his name, at the familiar voice. Fear and anxiety rushed through him as he lifted a board to see his father’s face. “Father!” he cried.

He turned to his friends. “Help me get this off of him!”

The three boys carefully lifted the board that had fallen onto his father and tossed it to the side. His father was lying on his back, his clothes blackened by ash, gashes across his arms and a broken arrow protruding from his stomach. He was breathing heavily, with little strength left in him.

“Father.”

Ramza and Barclay both knelt at his side.

“Let me help you,” Astanyx said as he reached for the arrow.

His father shook his head and winced in pain. “Astanyx, my son. You  . . .  must . . .” His voiced trailed off.

“What, Father?”

His father cleared his throat. “You must go to . . . Windham. . . . Warn the . . . King.”

“But, Father—”

“Tell him it . . . it—” Suddenly, his father was gasping for breath, grimacing as he clutched his stomach, every breath causing him immense pain.

Astanyx fought to keep his emotions from spilling over. “What, Father? What do I tell him?”

His father’s eyes closed and his breathing slowed. Astanyx shook uncontrollably, his mouth dry and his muscles tensed, believing for a moment that he had lost him. Ramza placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Then, his father opened his eyes. Astanyx let out a breath.

His father winced and took a deep breath. “I did my best to take some of them down. They weren’t soldiers. . . . They were monsters.”

Legacies of Talimura is available on Amazon and Smashwords for $0.99.

US Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005965A64

UK Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005965A64

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/70412

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July 13th is the next stop for the Indie Author Blog Hop. So make sure you hop on over to these sites for more spilt tea:

Reena Jacobs guest posts about her Kickstarter Update on Angel Haze's Blog.

Haresh Daswani interviews us about our YA paranormal/fantasy, The Childe.

Angel Haze will be doing a guest post on Lenore Wolfe's Blog.

*Don't Forget To Enter The Huge Indie Author Blog Hop Giveaway!* http://www.angelhaze.com/2011/07/01/blog-hop/