Sanctuary of Nine Dragons: Book Three

Sanctuary of Nine Dragons

Christina Weigand

eBook

Joachim banishes Brandan to prison island of Hyogo. His infant son, Prince Airyn disappears from his cradle. A chain of events is set in motion that will pit brother against brother, friend against friend, parents against children as Brandan and Joachim struggle for control of their sanity and their very lives.

With Brandan declared dead and his son missing Joachim sinks into despair and anger, where those close to him fear he may never return.

Is Brandan really dead and if he is, who is manipulating the Mantion and enemies of Crato?

Can Maeve save her country and her husband from the tentacles of evil pervading the land?

Dragons of Asha

Dragons of Sidramah

Excerpt

“I have sent one who can save them, but he can also bring about their final destruction.

“You, my Guardians, must seek him out. Protect him and ensure he is guided on the right paths.”

Alorn lifted his great, ruby-red head. “Tell us who is he, Lord, that we may fulfill Your wishes.”

“I cannot reveal his identity…yet. Just know there are three who need you now. My power will be seen in all, but only one will be the savior in the end. However, all are needed to bring My Will about and they must all be protected and nurtured.”

“How will we know them?” Stefano leaned forward.

“All will be children of Brandan or Joachim and they will blend the lineage of the three races.”

“We know of Joachim’s children, but Brandan has none.”

“He has one, a half Mantion-half human child. Gorou is the third and he will be the hardest to protect and nurture.”

“Why a child of Brandan?” Cielo asked. “Brandan has already chosen the path of evil time and again. Would not a child of his be exposed to that same evil?”

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Excerpt II

Joachim cringed as he thought about what he had to do. The council had decided. He didn’t agree completely, but in the end, Joachim knew it was the only way; something had to be done. Maybe Brandan would give him a reason not to send him away.

King Brandan stomped into the room. “Why, Brother, have you no throne prepared for your poor, missing brother? I’m hurt. I expected more from you and my sister-in-law. Maeve, dear, couldn’t you have helped him prepare better?” He stepped toward her, quickly grabbed her hand, and kissed it.

Joachim lunged at him, pushing him from the dais. Brandan staggered then regained his balance and gazed at his brother. “Why such violence, especially when I am so recently injured?”

Stepping off the dais, Joachim stood eye-to-eye with his brother. “Enough! You’re no more hurt than I am. And you have no business touching my wife, or sitting on Crato’s throne.”

Brandan laughed, pushed him aside, and stepped up to claim his throne. Joachim grabbed his twin's shoulder, spun him around, and punched him in the mouth.

Rubbing where Joa’s fist had landed, Brandan smirked. “Well, my brother has finally developed some stones.” He raised his other hand to hit Joachim.

Matthias stepped forward, sword in hand and grabbed his arm before he could hit Crato's king. He pulled the king’s brother away, so Joachim could reclaim his throne.

Jerking himself free, Brandan straightened his tunic. “This has been fun; but as you seem to be in no mood to visit, I shall take my leave. Come to me when you’re in a better frame of mind.”

“Stop! You are going nowhere until I say you can.”

Brandan stopped and looked at his brother. “What did you say to me? Is that how you talk to a fellow king and brother?”

“Yes, it is. As of this morning, you are no longer a king, and I’m not sure I should even call you brother.”

“Why dearest brother, whatever do you mean?” Brandan asked.

“Ever since we were boys, you have done everything you could to make trouble. I was always willing to forgive you and hoped you would change your evil ways. But no more! You have pushed me—pushed this country—too far this time,” Joa thundered at him.

 “What are you rambling on about?” Brandan sneered and bit a fingernail. 

“Brandan, I should sentence you to execution, but there are two things keeping me from that. First: you are my brother, and I hold onto a hope, however faint, you can be reformed…”

Brandan chortled. “Not a good bet, brother.”

“Second, I strongly suspect you of making two attempts on my life.  Unfortunately, I don’t have enough evidence to prove it was you. I punished one innocent man because of the little evidence we do have. I do not wish to make that mistake a second time.”

Brandan laughed again. “So, if we’re finished here, I’ll be leaving.”

“As I said before, you won’t be going anywhere until I say so. I may not have what I need to sentence you to death, but after your actions toward the queen this morning, I have some recourse.”

“What are you talking about? I did nothing she didn't ask for.”

Maeve rose from her throne. Joa put his hand on her arm to stop her.

“Brandan, I suggest you remain quiet until I finish.”

“Brother, you do not have the authority to do this. We are equals.”

“Do you not see the Adept Council before you? We met and discussed this matter at length... They have given me the authority.”

“This tiresome group of old men?” Brandan laughed. “They have even less power over me than you do.”

Ignoring Brandan’s comments, the king continued. “First, I strip you of your title. You are no longer King Brandan but will henceforth be known simply as Prince Brandan.” He paused and swallowed. He didn’t know if he could continue. The lump in his throat felt as big as a koali fruit. He swallowed again. Maeve grasped his hand. Warmth and reassurance enveloped him. He knew what he had to do.

“When we have finished here, Rupert, Salochin, and Master Frederick will take you to Rupert’s tower. There, they will strip you of your magical powers. When they are finished, Matthias and Wilhelm will escort you to the Port of Wyrzburg, where you will be put on a ship bound for Hyogo, the prison island. There you will remain for the rest of your life. You are never to return to Crato or Mahorg. You will live in the mountain abbey with the monks and work side-by-side with them.”

“You’re a misguided fool.” Brandan sneered. “If you believe that by exiling me, you are saving yourself from evil—think again. You may have peace and rest comfortably for a short while, but don’t assume I won’t find a way to come back and destroy you.” He stepped up to the thrones and leaned forward, placing a hand on each. The guards on either side of the king stepped forward to stop him. Joachim raised his hand signaling them to stop.

Brandan glared at the guard and muttered, “Freisen!” The man froze where he stood.

Brandan turned back to his brother and sister-in-law. “No, Joa. This is not over and what I did to your guard is nothing compared to the evils you will suffer by my hand.”

While he was speaking, Rupert chanted a binding spell. Matthias came forward and placed his sword tip to Brandan’s back.

The king put his good hand on his brother’s shoulders and pushed him upright as he stood. “You have done enough! Matthias, escort him to Master Rupert’s tower.”

As the prince was escorted from the room, Joa slumped back into his throne. It was done, he thought as remorse washed over him. A tear crawled down his cheek as Maeve squeezed his hand. 

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That Pesky Comma by Erika M Szabo

Where does it belong?

By Erika M Szabo

I learned English as an adult and the comma became my worst nightmare when I started writing.

Where it's needed and don't need it?

I read a book recently and found a lot of sentences where the comma was used incorrectly. I'm no expert, and I still rely on editors to correct my mistakes, but this book gave me the impression that it had never seen a good editor.

I rely on the editors to catch my mistakes, but I really should use my cheat-sheet more often. I bet my editor would have fewer headaches.

Here is my cheat-sheet:

Use a comma before any coordinating conjunction

"I walked by the lake, and I saw a fox."

"I walked by the lake" and "I saw a fox" are both independent clauses, therefore, we need a comma.

However, if I eliminate the second "I" the second clause would lack a subject, making it not a clause at all. In that case, it would no longer need a comma: 

"I walked by the lake and saw a fox."

Use a comma after a dependent clause that starts a sentence.

"When I walked by the lake, I saw a fox."

I had trouble to grasp this rule: "Commas always follow these clauses at the start of a sentence. If a dependent clause ends the sentence, however, it no longer requires a comma. Only use a comma to separate a dependent clause at the end of a sentence for added emphasis, usually when negation occurs."

Use commas to offset appositives from the rest of the sentence.

Appositives act as synonyms for a juxtaposed word or phrase.

"While walking, I saw a fox, a kind of mammal." "A kind of mammal" is the appositive, which gives more information about "a fox."

If the appositive occurs in the middle of the sentence, both sides of the phrase need a comma. As in, "A fox, a kind of mammal, attacked me."

Now this scared me until I understood the logic in it. "As long as the phrase somehow gives more information about its predecessor, you usually need a comma."

"A fox, the kind of mammal I saw when I went walking, attacked me."

There's one exception to this rule. Don't offset a phrase that gives necessary information to the sentence. Usually, commas surround a non-essential clause or phrase.

"The fox that attacked me scared my friend" doesn't require any commas. Even though the phrase "that attacked me" describes "the fox," it provides essential information to the sentence. Otherwise, no one would know why the fox scared your friend. Clauses that begin with "that" are usually essential to the sentence and do not require commas.

Use commas to separate items in a series. 

"I saw a fox, a mammal, and a liquor store when I went running."

That last comma, known as the serial comma, Oxford comma, or Harvard comma, causes serious controversy. Although many consider it unnecessary, others, including Business Insider, insist on its use to reduce ambiguity.

Use a comma after introductory adverbs.

"Finally, I went running."

"Surprisingly, I saw a fox when I went running."

Use a comma when attributing quotes.

The runner said, "I saw a fox."

"I saw a fox," said the runner.

Enjoy the introduction of my urban fantasy trilogy

Trilogy box set

books2read.com/The-Ancestors-Secrets-Trilogy

Books in the series

books2read.com/Prelude-The-Ancestors-Secrets-Trilogy-Book-1

books2read.com/Turmoil-The-Ancestors-Secrets-Trilogy-Book-2

books2read.com/Destiny-The-Ancestors-Secrets-Trilogy-Book-3

A New Breed of Vampire

Rebecca Tran

Have you ever wondered what would happen if vampires were the good guys yet still vampires in the truest sense of the word? I cut my teeth so to speak reading Anne Rice, so vampires to me will always be dark, powerful, and sexual creatures. When I decided to write my own vampire novel I wanted them to be the good guys. So my vampires became God's vigilantes, His chosen children that hunted the wicked and sent them to hell. A friend asked me once if my vamps were like those in Twilight I laughed a little and replied my vamps could eat them for breakfast. 

For Their Sins is an award winning first hand account of the very long life of Alexandria Diego.

Over 300 years Alexandria Diego has had her share of lovers. Some of them, she even loved. All she ever wanted was to find the one; that special person she could spend the rest of her life with. She’s survived political subterfuge, sword fights, Mordere raids, a war, and worst of all the male ego. But, now she’s found him; the one male that was destined to be hers. The only problem is the leader of the Mordere and her sworn enemy, Anya Drake, took him. Now she must risk it all to get him back.

Excerpt:

I relaxed in the water with the fire blazing in the hearth. My door opened and closed ever so slightly as Savas slipped in, I glanced at him, but said nothing. I was unsure what he was up to. He took a brush from my bed table let down my hair, and then brushed it out. When he finished, I heard him moving about behind me. I figured I would let him pace a bit. He would tell me what he wanted when he was ready. I leaned back sinking into the warm water with my eyes closed. I did not open them again until I felt Savas step into the tub.

I looked at him surprised, and he smiled a sheepish grin. “I did not see the point in drawing two baths when we could share.”

“Did I say you could get in?” I asked. He stopped smiling truly thinking I was upset. I moved in closer to him and dipped my head back to wet my hair. I was very aware of his eyes on my breasts as I did so.  “You will just have to help me then. Will you wash my back?” I pulled my hair over one shoulder. Savas let out a low guttural laugh similar to the one he had before we went on a hunt. He took the soap from me and nipped my neck.

That was the most erotic experience of my life, and we did not have sex or even touch each other in that manner. We simply bathed one another. I am still not sure how I managed to wait until I had Senya cart away the water before I slipped down the hall to Savas’ room. I glanced around to be sure there was no one near before going inside. Why I cared, who saw I do not know, but at that point, I wanted to keep it a secret.

Once inside I realized I had never actually been in Savas’ room before. It was the same size as mine, but his bed was pushed against one wall with a window covered by heavy drapes over it. A large leather couch sat in front of the fireplace with stacks of books around it. Another chair flanked the door, and an armoire was on the far wall. Tapestries covered the wall and rugs covered the floor. Needless to say, it was not what I was expecting. The door shut behind me and I nearly jumped. Savas leaned against the door frame with no shirt on and his hair still down. The only light in the room came from the fire, and it highlighted every feature. He was gorgeous.

“What happened to our deal Xandria?” he asked in a whisper.

“I think we need to re-examine it,” I told him.

“Tomorrow?” He asked.

“Tomorrow.” I agreed. He swept me up into one of his intoxicating kisses, and I didn’t care about anything else. 

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I am a mother, author, and pharmacist. I love all things fantasy and science fiction. If you asked me to choose between Star Wars and Star Trek, I can't, but the original 3 movies were the best and Next Generation is still great. I am currently working my way through Naruto Shappuden (only 400 episodes to go) so you can add anime buff to the list of my nerdy qualities. At the moment I am on an involuntary writing hiatus, meaning I have writer's block. If you would like to learn more about me please visit my website, to learn about my other books check out my store.

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Christopher Tolkien and Warren Lewis

Christopher Tolkien

and

Warren Lewis

Christina Weigand

Before I leave our stopover with the Inklings, I thought I would visit with two Inklings that were an integral part of what made C. S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien who they were.

These two men were Christopher Tolkien, Tolkien’s son and Warren Lewis, Lewis’s brother.

Christopher Tolkien was born November 21, 1924, the third son of J. R. R. Tolkien. He spent his childhood listening to and being a critical audience for his father’s fiction, first as a child listening to Bilbo Baggins and then as a teen and young adult offering feedback on Lord of the Rings. He also interpreted his father’s maps of Middle-earth to produce the maps used in the books.

His father invited him to join the Inklings when he was twenty one years old, making him the youngest member of the group. He translated and published the Icelandic story The Saga of King Heidrek. Following in his father’s footsteps he became a lecturer and tutor in English language and New College, Oxford.

During his lifetime J. R. R. Tolkien wrote a great deal of material that was never published. Christopher was named the literary executor in Tolkien’s will. By going through many of his father’s unfinished manuscripts and scattered notes Christopher was able to collate and publish some of the unfinished works including;

The Silmarillon, 

Unfinished Tales, The History of Middle Earth, Beren and Luthien

and The Children of Hurin. 

Following these he also published The Fall of Gondolin.

Several works not associated with the Lord of the Rings mythos were also published including The Fall of Arthur and The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun. 

He and his second wife, Baillie edited and published The Father Christmas Letters, which his father had written and read to the children when they were young.

Christopher now lives with Baillie in the French countryside, where he continues to further his father’s legacy.

Warren Lewis, C. S. Lewis’s older brother was born June 16, 1895. He was an Irish historian and officer in the British Army. After WWII he went to live with his brother in Oxford and was one of the founding members of the Inklings. 

A lifelong friendship developed between the brothers when they were children and spent many hours writing and illustrating Boxen, a book about their created world called Animal-Land.

During his first retirement he edited the Lewis family papers. During his final retirement he researched and wrote a series of books on the history of 17^th century France. The books included The Splendid Century: Some Aspects of French Life in the Reign of Louis XIV

and Levantine Adventurer: The Travels and Missions of the Chevalier d’Arvieux.

 After his brother’s death Warren edited the first published edition of his C. S. Lewis’ letters and added a memoir as a preface to the letters.

While writing his French history and living with his brother, Warren also served as C. S. Lewis’ secretary during Jack’s (C. S. Lewis) later years.

Before his own death he deposited many of the Lewis family papers in Wheaton College, which included surviving papers of Warren and his brother. In 1982 selections of Warren Lewis’s diary was published; Brothers and Friends.

Warren passed away in 1973 and was buried with C. S. Lewis.

Without these two men, some of the information we have about J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis would not have been published and we would not have come to know these two beloved writers. These two are also writers in their own right and helped to continue the legacy.

To see more of my posts on dragons, characters and authors go here.

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Photos From: https://www.amazon.com/W.-H.-Lewis/e/B000APG720?  and

https://www.amazon.com/Christopher-Tolkien/e/B000AQ11BQ?

Information from Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warren_Lewis
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien

Voices In My Head by Cindy J. Smith

Poetry from the Heart

by Cindy J. Smith

Voices In My Head is the first collection in my "Jasmine's Wish" series. My daughter, Jasmine, organized poems I had written over the years in an attempt to get me to publish.  After her death, and because of the encouragement of friends on Facebook, I added all the new poems I'd penned to her categories. The poems cover all aspects of life. Nature, time, feelings, politics are all fodder for my rhymes. I recommend this book to anyone seeking understanding as many viewpoints are examined.

A poem from the book

AURORA BOREALIS

In the land of the midnight sun

Before months of forever night

The fairies gather up their dust

To perform their astral delights

They fill the sky with light

Weaving their slender silken threads

Using only the palest hues

Of lavenders, yellows, and reds

Fairies fly on gossamer wings

Trailing their glowing webs behind

They dance together in a show

Making ever-changing designs

The Aurora Borealis

Fills Alaska’s sky at twilight

Fairies bringing sweet hope to all

With their gift of Northern Lights

Find Cindy on her:
Website:
http://carternovels.com/author-cindy-j-smith.html
Twitter:  @cindysvoices
FB:  https://www.facebook.com/CindysVoices/
GOODREADS:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6505989.Cindy_J_Smith
Pinterest:
https://www.pinterest.com/cindyjsmith1/

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A Search Down Inspiration Lane by L. L. Thomsen

Where has my muse gone? And how do I get her back?

http://llthomsen.com/

I know I am not the first (nor the last) author in history to stare at that blank screen/paper, feeling hollow and somewhat bewildered that the next line just won’t come to me.  Nonetheless, right in that moment, it feels as though I am the first, the only, the most useless, that’s for sure. 

How did this happen? I mean, it should write itself, right? I was on a roll! I even know what I am supposed to write – goodness, my outline is clear and everyday I’ve been working towards hitting a few thousand extra words, vigorously tugging them under my belt so that I’ll be in a position to write ‘The End’ on the final page of my WIP sooner rather than later…  

Well, the idea that I will one day harvest the benefit of all this effort and plotting seems like a pipe dream right about then. And as I fail to type a single word, I can feel that coveted goalpost of personal achievement shift beyond my reach. 

I am impatient and frustrated; it’s irrational – I know - and then comes the mini black hole and it sucks me right in.  Again.  

See, it’s not the first time my goal post has moved – I mean, such is life, but now it seems further away than ever; impossible to achieve even, and then comes the first-class, full-flight of self-doubt.  I am probably never going to finish this. I am silly for even thinking I could do this, but not to worry - it probably isn’t very good anyway.  My story sucks. I suck.  In fact, if I cannot find inspiration to write this next chapter, why even be a writer? Others wheel them out, but clearly that kind of productivity is beyond me!

(Are you nodding now? I think you might be, because you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Well, bear with me…)

It’s when that feeling of hopelessness tags you that it really hits you just how lonely a writer’s life can be. It doesn’t matter that you cannot live without it or that you chose it; wanted it. The fact remains that it’s pretty darn similar to sitting cross-legged in a cave on a desert island with only your imaginary friends (AKA the characters from you story) for company. They chat to you… but only sometimes – and of course never when you need them to, lol.

So what do you do? Throw in the towel for good? Watch some telly? Read a book? Go shopping? Browse Social media for commiserations and solutions? Walk the dog? Peel potatoes? Chat to your friends about anything but writing? Chat to your friends about nothing but writing? Go to the gym? Eat cake (yum)? Escape to your kitchen - or if you’re lucky: the local coffee house – where you can promptly proceed to consume copious amounts of hot drinks that you swear will help you see the light?

Well, I am going to tell you that I do all of the above – and more.

Yup. I really do.  Cross my heart…

And I even ‘throw in the towel’ occasionally, as well – at least, for a little while. See I know we are all different and everyone works in different ways.  And so, what works for me, may not work for Peter and John, and what works for them may just seem plain stupid to Sarah and Jean, but that is not really the point here.  The point is that when you hit the slump – oh the darn dreaded slump! – it might be for various reasons and these are usually tied to other things that go on in your world. Loneliness, worries, depression, too much work, not enough work, kids, animals, bills, etc… and the point is that these can all get to you sometimes, but this does not mean you don’t have it in you to finish your WIP and produce a book, nor that you are not good enough, or that your story is pants!

What you need is a break. Or if you have just had a break and cannot seem to get back into it, you need a shift in focus.  And that means you need something that will help you rekindle your joy for the WIP and something that will stop you from growing rusty, too. 

Now at this point, if you enter the 1000 yard stare contest with your WIP, neither the screen, nor the blank paper will inspire you. It’s simple. It will continue to suck you dry if you let it - and so you need to escape its clutches and re-direct your attention.  And so, here we go back to the points above…

Whether burned out, just back from a break, or simply uninspired, the thing that always works for me is to walk away from the WIP itself.  For the lunch hour – or for weeks – it really doesn’t matter, but very importantly, this is not the time to wallow in a hole (though you might want to) – and weirdly it is also not the time to stop writing either – at least not altogether. 

But what? How?

I’m sure you’ll have heard many of your fellow writers say, ‘Never stop writing’ - and for good reason! Because you may not be able to work on your WIP but there are other ways to stay sharp and put your skills to good use so that when you get your mojo back, you will still feel ‘in touch’ and centered around the routine of writing.  After all, one step forwards and two to the side is often to be preferred over two steps forward and halt. 

So you cannot work on the WIP?

Well if so, just write regardless. Write something that keeps you in the game; something that keeps you focused – work on a different story you been thinking of exploring, or write a short story, fanfiction, maybe write a blog about your WIP, or about your experiences, or hopes, or dreams, or fears. Write something serious, write something banal, write a letter to the President - you name it – you can write about a book you recently read; review it… do what feels unforced and easy, but keep writing because this will help you develop your skills and that is super handy for when that muse glides back into your life with a goofy smile of apology. 

But of course this will not fill your day the way working on your WIP does.  It might even also be that your heart is not in it, because this is after all not what you want to write about, so I suggest that you mix it up a little bit.  Browse Pinterest or Deviant Art for inspiration, chat to your author mates on social media, share snippets of you WIP, ask for feedback on ideas; on characters, go back and read your notes, get reacquainted with what got you burning to tell your story in the first place, stay in contact with like-minded people who share your path and know the troubles you might face (be they friends, family or FB mates).  Allow yourself this time ‘off’: read a new book, watch some telly – anything - and you might find that you once more begin to spot glimpses of your muse.

Now when she/he/it does return to your side or shoulder or wherever she sits, you will soon know, and that’s when you pick up the reigns, go back to your WIP or you grab a notebook to instantly write down all those new ideas that suddenly pop into your head!

As for the time scale on this ‘come back’ – ah well who can say? I have stepped away from my WIP for months before; I have procrastinated, drunk too much coffee, watched too much telly, but eventually something sparks an idea that pulls me back in. It is meant to be. Be patient. The muse will not let you off the hook indefinitely: sooner or later the WIP will call you back, and you will answer because you feel compelled, and it’s right.

Ah, but gah! The muse almost got back but now she’s on holiday again – or somewhere: delayed on an overnight flight, or sightseeing in Manhattan, or something like that. So then what? Dang it!

Okay, you were almost ready. You caught the whiff of former glory but now the muse keeps flirting and disappearing, and you still cannot work on the WIP.  So now what?

Well, if I get truly and badly ‘stuck’, I simply: rinse, sleep, eat, and repeat.  Never stop looking for inspiration, but not to the point of exhaustion. It’s not easy – not always – but then again, few things are. You are in this for long haul, right? So just think of it as a work hazard and learn to roll with the waves. You will feel less hassled and calmer – and guess what? When you don’t force it too much, it seems to glide all the better and you will be all the stronger as a writer and person. Indeed, often you will find that the hated break has given you new perspective.  In fact, it may perhaps even have helped you figure out a cooler, more exciting plot for your story, or a subplot, or you might have ended up thinking up a new exciting character, and (Yay!) that is never a bad thing.

So there.
Now stop panicking and take a breather. You got this. Do not punish yourself.
You are not the first writer in the world to feel like this. You will not be the last either. But you will get your muse back. And you will write your book and finish it. 
There indeed! 
(By L. L. Thomsen)
http://llthomsen.com/