A visitor at the palace

"What if he'd been purposely looking for her and her location had been somehow compromised? Could he be faking this injury? At the same moment this thought crossed her mind, something wet and sticky ran down the hand she held under his jaw. The smell! It was fresh blood.
Alarm slammed through her small body. It had happened within the hour. Who did it? Where were they now?"

Find out what's been going on with Aquila!

The author of Aquila will be taking a two week intermission so please be patient. Aquila will continue on the 16th.

A Criminal and a Bounty Hunter

He hung upside down from his tightly bound ankles, dreadlocked hair hanging at odd angles as it struggled to align with the pull of gravity. The scent of unwashed human wafted from him and turned my stomach as he bobbed before me. Yellow and brown teeth appeared from behind his lips as he spewed curses up at me. With the increased pain and nausea, I was sorely temped to kick him in the face. It would not be wise move since he was still armed with a sorry looking sword and slashed at me as he spun.

Wren's adventure begins. Come, read her first chapter, and let the writer know what you think.

Wren Romany - Chapter One - by Rachel Rossano

Aiden's Prologue

Believe it or not, Aiden’s prologue is up! Check it out!


Aiden's Prologue

All alone...

Entering the first gate she came to had led Daelia directly into the southern district, just as Finneas had said it would; but now she had to find a specific street and she was beginning to despair. Each house, each street looked exactly alike. It would be far easier if I was in the forest; this city is like a maze.

Looking above the rooftops, she could see that the sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the buildings that surrounded her. Though she had wanted to avoid talking to people on the street, she realized she needed help. Seeing a bent-over old man standing near the corner of a dreary looking home, she stopped to ask directions.

“Could you tell me where I can find Leiden Street, sir?” she asked as the old man openly stared at her clothing and bow curiously.

Only after she had repeated her question more loudly did he respond by shrugging his shoulders and walking away.

Suddenly, Daelia felt more alone that she had ever felt in her life.

***

Chapter 3 of "Daelia" is up!

The Ballroom

"The hall seemed to go on and on an endless tunnel towards the unknown, the torches numberless. The flames cast shadows on the wall as she steadily made her way. Time seemed to stand still, life on pause as the dread rose higher and higher to what she might find. Why she thought she would find something, she had no idea. It was just an empty room. It was an empty castle. There was no reason for her to dread it. She was on an adventure...it wasn't working. Nothing she could tell her nerves would work. Her skin was crawling now and her hand shaking.
She almost jumped when she turned to light a torch and it was the door to the ballroom. Quickly recovering, Aquila's shoulders rose in determination. Her hand went to the door knob and she shoved the door open. She stepped inside and lit the torches on both side of the door. Now she turned and jumped. The silence that had pervaded her journey was disrupted with terrified screams."


Find out what's going on here!

midnight meeting

Zhenya had not been asleep. He was the first to hear the riders coming, and he woke Findal with a whispered, "Trouble!"

Findal rolled out of his bedding and took up a sword in the same moment, buckling it to his waist. His grey hair was wild from sleep, but his eyes were already bright and alert. "What is it, boy?" he asked.

"Riders are coming," Zhenya said. "Coming fast."

Findal kicked Orlin; Morris and Randal were already awake and gathering their weapons to them. "What is the hour?" Findal asked.

"Four hours till sunrise," Zhenya answered.

The men turned as one to the road, ready to meet whatever was coming. Marta was up, twisting her hair behind her. "Into the wagons, Zhenya," she said. "You'll not fight."

"Taerith is down by the river," Zhenya said. Marta opened her mouth to give direction when the riders galloped up. Their horses were fine and decorated in a king's own livery. Chief among the men was a strongly-built fellow, darkly bearded and well-armed. Findal laid his hand on his hilt but did not draw.

"What has happened here?" the man demanded. "Bandits... where are your prisoners?"

"You read the story wrongly," Findal answered with a slight bow of his head, "my lord Borden. It was my fine men and I who chased the bandits off in this same night."

"The carriage of a great nobleman lies wrecked behind you," Borden said. "Where is the woman it carried?"

Lilia's clear voice rang out. "I am here."

* * *

Chapter Three of Taerith by Rachel Starr Thomson is up!

Ah, the life of a part-time writer

I begin each day with hopeful plans to write. I get to my day job, work hard, try to get in a few minutes of writing in my half-hour break, and then resume work. Upon reaching the quitting time, I am out the door, down to the car, and on the road. Depending on the day, I go straight to Curves to work out, or home to deal with getting ready for helping with Youth Group, or off on errands. The whole time while I am driving to which ever the destination of the day is, my head is full of my stories: how Jayne feels when she wakes and finds Liam gone; how I am going to stage the accident for Hadrian that has been causing me all manner of problems for a week now; and Wren and Arthus, who are barging in and demanding they are ready to begin.

I struggle not to start writing in my head. If I do, I wear out the idea. I am not sure how to explain it another way, but that is what happens. I compose the sentences in my head, telling the tale to myself as though I were typing it onto the screen. Then, just as if I had typed it onto the screen my brain refuses to go back. It as if it tells me, "That part is written and I am not writing it again." If I do write it down, the scene feels lifeless and drab.

So, once I do reach home, there is a list of things that I must do before I can sit down to write: a snack to eat, dogs to be taken out, bills to pay, chores to start...you get the picture. Once everything is under control, I finally sit down at the computer and begin. Then, lately, the words stall. I sit and write and everything I write either dies on the page or goes of in directions that I cannot use. Characters chat about nothing and everything, throw hysterics, act out of character, refuse to get to the point, and generally rebel. Ack!

Finally after struggling for an hour or so, I give up. I have four pages of unusable nonsense. I am irritated with one set of characters and down right mad at another, while Wren and Arthus are looking sweet and innocent over in the corner. Don't let them fool you. Arthus weaseled his way in the other day and I suddenly was contemplating his first scene. Then, before I knew what was happening, I was writing his first scene. I almost screamed when I realized what I was doing. Liam isn't finished, Hadrian is giving me fits, and Arthus, who isn't even the main character has coerced me into writing his first scene. I think I may be losing my mind.

I am sorely tempted to pick up one of my editing projects. Of course, if I did, the rest of you would attack me. Hey, I would attack me. Zez has so much life and is so complicated, I cannot walk away for fear that I shall never be able to pick her up again. Liam has been waiting for ever so long to be written and you are all waiting breathlessly for the next chapter. Wren and Arthus are standing over there looking at me accusingly. Wren's siblings, all except Aiden, are having they stories written and she is slightly ticked that I am not writing hers yet.

I am not telling you all this so that you can call the men in the white coats to drag me away. I am just letting you know that although I have no fruit to show for all my effort over the past week, except for a half written chapter of Zez and part of Arthus' first section. I have been trying. I have gone through this kind of thing before. I shall recover. It shall just take time...and patience...and tenacity... and...you get the point. Call it my suppressed artistic temperament rebeling to structure or my brain screaming for help. Whatever it is, it too shall pass. I just have to keep fighting.

Just watch. After I post this rant, something will come to me and suddenly I will not be able to keep up with the beautiful prose that floods my brain and oozes onto the screen. Oh, how I can hope.

Oh, I forgot to mention the job. Not the day job, but the inbetween hours job. It, unlike the writing, is going beautifully and I am enjoying it. Have I mentioned that I am crazy to be doing all this? If not, I am mentioning it now. Though I admit it, I will not stop. I love this stuff and somehow I shall fit it into my schedule.

- Rachel Rossano (To-be-author of Wren, when she manages to finish one of her other projects.)

Exploring hidden castles!

"She carefully turned the pages until she found “Quentin”. There was a daguerreotype of a magnificent castle in all its glory. Flags flew at each corner hailing the circular cobblestone drive that came up to a wide staircase that led up to two gigantic oak doors. The grounds were well cared for, rose bushes lined the steps and the drive and the grass was kept well cut. Two guards in full regal attire stood at each side of the doors and two more at each side of the bottom of the steps and a carriage with a coat of arms painted on it's side sat attached to two beautiful white bays just off to the side.
There were two guards that patrolled the top of the castle and just below him on the second floor was a good sized window with beautifully ornate curtains drawn back. The picture was done so well that you could see couples dancing in the ballroom there on the second floor.
A beautiful sunset framed the castle in the background and Aquila felt as if she were there...for a second. The door creaked and she jumped and dropped the book."

Read Aquila's second chapter to find out what happened!

A Heavy Longing

"Ilara’s fingers found their way over the patterns they knew by heart and she expelled a heavy sigh, her emotions having been too greatly varied and extreme lately to have much left to express. She wondered what Daelia was doing right now; where she possibly could be; if she was all right. She wondered similar questions for all her siblings as she lay there and freely partook of the moody gloom she was so prone to."

Read Chapter One of Ilara!

help on the road

“Well my name is Finneas Culwart.” He came closer, removing the pack from his shoulder. Seeing his face closer now, she saw that he was much younger than she had first supposed. “If you don’t mind my asking, why do you eat berries for supper? Have you no food of your own?”

“No, robbers relieved my of my purse last night and I have had nothing to eat since midmorning…yesterday.”

Finneas took note of the bow and arrows the girl wore across her back and motioned to them. “Do you know how to use those things properly?”

Daelia drew herself up to her full height, her ire rising at his forward manner, “I have been using a bow since the time I could pick one up. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean—“

“By the gods, I don’t doubt your ability; my own aim has always been ghastly! Now before you say anything else, listen to my proposal..."

***

Chapter 2 of Daelia is finished...come and read!

riding to the rescue

A lone carriage lay half on its side in the middle of the road, one of its front wheels snapped quite away from the axel. A horse was still harnessed to it; it strained at its load with frantic whinnies, but the carriage was caught in the deep ruts of the road and would not budge. It had evidently been the scene of a stand-off; the bodies of men lay strewn around it. Others, living still, were in the process of dragging a young woman out. She was not at all willing to go with them, and was doing her best to wrench herself from their grasp--but she was small, and fine, and they were great brutes.

Randal and Taerith rode up to the carriage without slowing, and hope lit in the girl's face at the sight of them. "Help me!" she screamed.

* * *

Chapter Two of Taerith has been posted!

we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming

... for a brief and rather exciting announcement.

Rachel Starr Thomson, author of Taerith and owner of Little Dozen Press, sponsor and publisher of The Romany Epistles, has just released her first book: Heart to Heart: Meeting With God in the Lord's Prayer. She invites you to read the birth announcement here.

Deja Vu'

A sneaking suspicion dawned at the back of Arnan’s mind that threatend their very exsistence. It forced him to rise from the soft blankets and slowly walk towards the windows. Sure enough, waiting in the street below their dwelling was a woman with blonde hair wearing a maroon cloak. Arnan muttered an oath under his breath and began gathering a few items hurriedly from around the room.

“Pepper, we have to go. Now.”


Chapter One of Arnan is up!

Sudden enslavement....

“You are on the border of Elangsia and Aerilya,” Tyrna continued. “In case you did not figure it out before Grant struck you, you have been kidnapped and are now a slave.”
Slave! The word burned itself clearly into Zoe’s mind, evaporating what fogginess remained.
“What do you mean?” she asked insistently, her eyes opening wider. The pain in her head was now was secondary to this unwelcome news. Suddenly she became aware of the rough feeling of rope around her wrists, and a panicky feeling came over her. I cannot be a slave! I have spent my entire life under Duard’s thumb, and now I am forced to become another’s underling. Oh, God, why? She cried out to Deus involuntarily.

The first chapter of Zoe is up and ready to read!

http://zoe-romany.blogspot.com

Mystery in Meru

"Dearest Wren...It's an old palace, long forgotten and abandoned...Someone even tried to hide the entrance...After carefully studying several historical texts, I believe this place to be Quentin, the former home of the Lucian royalty...I also found a journal written in a lady's pen that has some mysterious journals later in it's pages. It seems that she, Alverdine Portchi, feared both her betrothed, Sark the crowned prince of the Lucia's, and the servants. Neither parties were very congenial towards her or the other...one morning when she woke up after falling asleep cleaning the floor of the servants' kitchen she overheard a few of the menservants talking of executing Sark but she knew she could never utter a word for they would surely kill her...Despite her situation with Sark, Sark was her only protection and she would rather face his anger than that of the servants. Alverdine again expresses her fear of the servant's uprising and plans to tell Sark of what she heard the next morning...I've yet to make it to the second floor where I believe the wedding to have taken place...The last entry in the journal was dated the morning of her wedding."

Aquila's first chapter has been posted!

well met

Through the longish hair that fell into his eyes, Taerith looked across the fire into the face of a strange little man who seemed to have sprung up out of the sunrise. Grey, wizened hair floated around the little man's temples; his eyes twinkled, matched by the glittering of a gold earring that flared in the meagre morning light. He sat cross-legged with a grey blanket across his knees.

Taerith's hand searched the ground for his sword, and the little man chuckled--a breathless chuckle. He whisked the grey blanket aside and held up Taerith's sword, still in its scabbard--still attached to his belt, which was no longer around its master's waist.

"Looking for this?" the man asked.

* * *

Read Chapter One of Taerith by Rachel Starr Thomson