Derrick and Jago: age eight

In my onging bits of nattering in an effort not to fill CATCHING HER BALANCE with backstory, here’s the two at age eight.

Within the Vittalar compound, two young boys are being tortured. Well, they thought they were. In reality, however, it was just time for school. The room around them is the standard decorative theme. Maps of the surrounding kingdoms cover the walls; well-worn writing desks stand before the far wall; a young instructor sits at their large desk at one side listening to her young charge read from his paper. A paper he’d written. After much agonizing and arduous—read, boring—research.

“…And so the Pentrahedron Treaty was struck,” said the youth standing at the front of the room. “Each of the Five Islands aligned themselves as one to put a stop to the Everlasting War.”

“Describe a pentahedron, please,” the teacher requested.

The youth rolled his eyes in a youthful display of impatience but did as asked. “The island governments settled into a, kinda, five-sided pyramid.”

“No, a’Lar. A triangular prism.”

An aggrieved sigh. “Fine.”

A quiet snort of laughter from the desk where another youth sat.

“Tell us why the prism shape matters.”

Now that was a greater challenge but he manfully struggled his way through it. “It’s two triangles joined together. The two triangle bases face each other but they are merged into one by the horizontal plane.”

“Why does that matter?”

“I don’t like math!”

“Math is logic, young a’Lar. Now use your mind. Why does that matter?”

He hesitated, clearly struggling, and the other youth piped up to say “It’s like a broadhead arrow tip!”

The young teacher smiled fondly at the seated child. “That’s a triangle, young Skylar. Good for war, yes. But the prism was selected to ensure peace. That’s a question of government, which the a’lar will face soon enough.” She returns her attention to Derrick and offers an encouraging smile. “Thoughts?”

Derrick took the hint and ran with it. “The bases are equal as are the island governments, but the edges meet at a point above,” he emphasizes the final word.

“Exactly.”

“There must be one deciding vote or we’ll return to chaos.”

“Well said.”

A wide smile spread across the young Derrick’s face. “And Vittalar is that deciding vote. My T’Lar!”

“Indeed, but for how long?”

Now he frowns. “What do you mean? We’re not going anywhere!”

“Ah, but the potential for change exists with every generation’s rising.”

“The Ceremony,” Jago reminded. “Crazy. Thank the gods Skylar doesn’t have that kind of crap.”

The teacher frowned. “’Crazy’ young man? The Ceremony is our stability. A peaceful transition of power, if necessary.”

“Crap,” Jago repeated, with all the lofty authority of a military mindset.

Derrick pushed back on that statement. “Without Ceremony, my father wouldn’t be Top Dog. That’s what I will conquer when it’s my turn.”

“Quite right.” The teacher nodded. “And without the Ceremony, the Eternal War would have continued and the Five Islands would have eventually lost everything.”

Another quiet snort from Jago, one the teacher thought best to ignore. She refocused the lesson. “Tell us why Vittalar rose to such prominence among the Five Islands. And tell us why it has kept its place in the governmental hierarchy.”

A pained expression spread across Derrick’s face, as if he couldn’t believe she’d asked that.  “Skylar, of course.”

“Many T’Lars across the Five Islands had their resident military might to draw upon. What did Skylar bring to the battle?”

That question threw Derrick. “Military force?”

“Any man can kill another.”

“Dedicated force?”

“Generals abound across the Five Islands.”

“Magic?”

“At that time, magic was a familiar and accepted tool across the Five.”

“Ships?” he got a bit desperate. “The White Island?”

“Every island nation owns ships and the White Island needs to be defended. Think a’Lar. The answer is not hidden.”

“The war hawks,” Jago pronounced.

“Very good.” She gestured for Jago to stand and join Derrick. “Tell us more.”

Jago heaved a sigh and rose to shuffle forward. “Skylar has a relationship with the Honor of Hawkhurst across the long sea. The Temple receives eggs and the birds are hatched, trained, and brought forward. Skylar rules the skies.”

Derrick nodded. “So when Vittalar flexes, the forces of Skylar can arrive with a speed no boat can match.”

Jago echoed the nod. “And they think. Unlike boats, they won’t just crash onto rocks. They’re more likely to pick up the rocks and drop them with pinpoint precision if that’s what the rider wants.”

The teacher smiled and clapped. “Just so! With Skylar, Vittalar is unstoppable.”

But Jago had a sudden thought. “But why does Skylar need Vittalar?”

The two boys engage in a shoving match over that.

“Boys, Stop! Because the Caste system is older than either Vittalar or Skylar and I doubt that will change anytime soon. They need each other.” The teacher then rose and crossed the room to the two, where she embraced them both in a warm hug.

“You are a delight,” he said. “The dynamic we taught today is fully embodied by you, both Vittalar and Skylar standing as one. I couldn’t be prouder.”

The two hunch their shoulders and shuffle, their cheeks reddening.

The teacher straightens. “Now. On your way. Your dancing teacher is waiting in the room beyond.”

The two set up a howl, one the teacher stops with a clapping of her hands. “That’s enough, both of you. Many a war has been won on the dance floor instead of the battlefield.”

She levels a finger in the door’s direction. Resigned, the two slouches forward as directed.

The door opens at their approach due to the actions of the watching guards. The ballroom is beyond, and the Dancing Master can be seen within. He smiles at the two boys who step into the room

 “All Hail the Promised One!” the guards announce.

Age Five

Adding to my sort-of story about Derrick and Jago’s blended childhood, I’ve gotten to their first Skylar ceremony. This is a turning point for the two. As with most of us, expectations are structured on the personalities we manifest at an early age.

(Note to readers: my family tells me I did the exact same thing Jago does below, and exactly in the same way. My brother was being picked on and I put a stop to that. (My OLDER brother and I was in Kindergarten.) Well, my name does mean Fiery One….)

THE QUINQUENNIAL

It’s a  brisk Spring afternoon at the Skylar temple. Members of this particular sect of the Defense Caste hustle about. The busy but gladsome demeanor alerts the visitor to the importance of the day. Certainly, as infants, the two children in question had experienced their fair share of rituals, but this one was different. This was personal.

“They’re so young,” Vittalar frets to the one walking beside him.

“Ah, yes,” the Grandmaster nods, directing the other forward. “Those two are on the young side of the quinquennial but it is theirs.”

“But are they ready?”

“For what? They’ve walked this ground for the past five years.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“I do.” Grandmaster stops at a tall set of doors and waves for them to be opened. “The one was born ready.”

“But the other?”

“Have no fear T’Lar.” He gestures Vittalar to proceed with him inside. “You’ve witnessed the protective instinct of Promised One on multiple occasions. Have you not?”

They step into mayhem. Hundreds of male children, mill about together inside a Great Hall. The older ones cluster together and show pained tolerance for the younger ones stampeding about. Their shouts of glee fill the air.

“Are you sure, Grandmaster?”

“All will be well, T’Lar. Here, we experience the Fifth Year Celebration of the fifth year a child has been welcomed to Skylar. Some come late—” a gesture to those who have not yet reached puberty but believe themselves above the event “—and those still learning who they are.” That gesture was toward the younger ones.

“But, they’re so young.”

“The two? Yes. In fact, one is the youngest to have ever been admitted to Skylar.”

“Of course, there was no question of that one’s acceptance.”

“Indeed.”

They walk closer to the roiling lake of energetic boys.

Vittalar notes with pleasure the guardians among the kids. “Still, I fail to understand why.”

“Your ‘why’ is not a requirement of the process.”

Vittalar swells up, indignant.

Grandmaster offers a few nods to ease the truthful sting.  “Be that as it may, I will tell you. We are not here to teach anything. Rather, we are here to learn everything. Now, we learn the identities of the next generation of Skylar.”

“I do not understand.”

“Hence why your ‘why?’ as irrelevant.” In the face of Vittalar’s resumed huffiness, the Grandmaster holds out a staying hand. “Be at ease, T’Lar. You will see. These boys already know who they are. We at Skylar must discover it.

“Look there. What do you see?”

The Vittalar parses the area and sees his son, sitting among a crowd of others. Around him are scattered Skylar toys. He’s busy dividing his pile of treasure equally among the group. When squabbles arise, he puts things in place to settle the conflict.

“That one will be called Balance,” Grandmaster pronounces.

“A talent like that will be useful in navigating the foretold schism.”

“Just so. I expect—”

A feline-ish scream of rage pierces the hubbub, pulling heads around. In another section of the Great Hall is a young child wielding a hand-sized, toy box like a bludgeon against those who thought he was an easy target to bully.

They fall away, howling and clutching at their heads, shoulders, and stomachs. In moments, the tyke stands victorious. The box is warped and ruined by the exercise. He sends out another scream of rage and lobs the object at the fleeing group.

“And that one,” Grandmaster says,  “will be called Jago.”

Chapter 4, the rise of Connor

In CATCHING HER BALANCE: Act One – Things Fall Apart we–so far–have been introduced to Jago’s magick, Jenna’s magick, heard about Sylvett’s, and are aware of Derrick’s concerns with his.

And the fact that he shouldn’t have it to be concerned about.

But…surely he isn’t the only child of a T’Lar with Talent?

In fact, he isn’t

In Chapter 4, Connor steps out of the shadows and emerges as a priority player. While Jenna’s talent is linked to her dancing, Connor’s talent is Fine Arts. His is the use of painting to focus his clairvoyant skills. Imagine what a sketch artist of that sort can do in a culture of whispers and secrets. After all, who pays attention to the employees?

Here’s a snippit of the chapter and since the character is rising forward faster than I expected or planned, it was a beast to write. Anyway, PLEASE ENJOY!!

As one, they surge toward the safety of the ruins.

All this comes to life from beneath Connor’s hands. Having found a place away from his brother and against a long stretch of stone wall, his magic pushes him to paint what’s happening at Ceremony.

He sweeps coal black across the wall, touching and tweaking each stroke to show the attackers thundering forward—their howling battle cry audible even to those hiding in the ruins. Streaking sweeps of blue to the four outside racing toward the ruins for safety. Spots of brown pepper the scene of the recently deceased laid out on the Ceremony grounds.

He adds to each spot, one atop the other, and the image resolves of small stone golems, previously summoned by Jenna’s magic, swarming around and atop the corpses.

…

Connor’s paints sweep across the rock, this time of his brother and friend. “Yeah,” I’d be concerned too,” he mutters as the image develops. “Things not going your way, eh?”

“And that scares him. That’s what orange means, yes? Fear?”

Connor spins at the unexpected voice behind him. He sees Banair standing near him, holding a cup of warmed wine in each hand. The steaming liquid flavors the air with its rich aroma.

She’s right, but should he admit that?

He looks and realizes he’d swept that color across the representations of Craigger and Traggath. Then he glances over at his brother and sees the two cowering at the feet of Derrick, who’s armed with a brightly blazing sword and gilded by a patina of equal color and brilliance.

In fact, he’d painted that image with spikes that resembled rime ice.

Magic.

Derrick.

The a’Lar?

FINALLY!!!

The thing about how my brain works is that I can’t move forward–with anything, in truth–until evey element of the project beneath my hands makes sense. So, I’ve been procrastinating, fussing, stressing, and fiddling until I realized the issue…

Jago’s most dangerous magic needs to be presented to the reader far earlier

Having it arrive at the end of Act 2 was sort of a Deus Ex Machina thing, and that’s just lazy writing.

So, the Skylar Temple knows; Jago keeps it “close to his chest;” and folks have died for it. What can the Temple do with the reality that such a weapon both a) exists and b) is within their halls?

That’s a key question threading through Catching Her Balance.

And why would it be anywhere near Derrick?

THAT’S THE MILLION DOLLAR QUESTION.

Whoa! Who knew?

People don’t believe me when I say the hours of writing are never futile. Every moment spent fashioning a daisy chain of words into something beautiful only improves with time spent on the task. Don’t believe me?

Here…. Same scene; same thrust; same secondary characters but–well, see for yourself.

YESTERDAY:

How it Began…

The season’s first frost threatens the reddening leaves. The west wind slashed sharply across wind-torn shrubs, restless grass, and bobbing fall flowers. A blush of sunlight paints the cloud cover, above where a handful of cloaked, and hooded people walk.

Draped in greens and browns, Skylar holy men Summit the mountain. The group stops but for one.  He turns to face the others and beckons. Another one steps forward, this one clutching a basket. They meet and the fabric covering the basket is pulled aside.

An infant screams, outraged. The wail rises into the brisk air and startles nearby birds from their perches. Shrieking with an odd counterpoint to the child’s voice, they wing away into the stretching distance.

“Impressive voice on this one,” says the one with the basket, chuckling.

“Well, he is the Promised One,” says the other, equally amused.

The infant is lifted from the basket and wrapped again, a protection against the constant wind. Turning the first walks to an ancient altar placed atop the mountain’s actual peak. There, the child is laid. An offering. An exaltation.

A comforting hand on the baby’s stomach stops the shrieks.

                Into the whispering wind, the one raises his arms and cries out: “Behold! He has arrived!”

                “Glory be!” cries the crowd.

                The first turns again to the watching crowd. “Step forward.” …

TWO YEARS AGO:

Prologue

The sun’s burning rays fell across a mountain’s rocky summit. The hard wind acted like a weaver spinning thread, pulling and twisting and drawing the white clouds thinly across the sky. Beneath, where clumps of grass struggled against the starting edge of the permanent snow, a line of red clad pilgrims trudged up, up, up…

Every cycle, on this very day, the faithful made the journey. Walking and chanting and gasping in the thin air, across the rocks, into the snow, higher—always higher—to the very top of the sacred mountain that housed the ancient citadel. Every midsummer of the past twenty-five and after the child had been born, Skylar monks walked, and sang, and prayed for the prophecy.

 Born, had been the child. Raised, had been the child. Schooled, had been the child. Adult was now the child. Surely the time had come? If not, then soon? And so, they walked the well-trodden path. Patient. They sang praises to the Blood God. Faithful. Those who passed beyond the veil in the prior cycles had been replaced by others equally faithful. Seven of them—always seven—and always to witness the midsummer sun passed unhindered above the pinnacle.

They reached the summit and knelt into the snow. The light above painted the area with brilliant white. Sparkling, pristine, untouched by conflict. Wind slashed across the peak, cold and severe like a blade’s strike. The time might now be this cycle but all new the conflict was coming. This child had been born, after all.

---

Fortunately, this Prologue didn’t go anywhere fast.

Learning my craft in public. D’Oh!

Well, I gotta be me.

Magick and Skylar

Yes, I added the “k” to magic here to align with Crowley and the Thelemistes. (Magick of Thelema). I do this here, and not in the book(s), because a) it would be distracting for readers and b) to draw a line between what my characters do verses who my characters ARE.

Which aligns nicely with the fact the Ruling Caste scorns those with magic(k). Why? The books will address that, yes, but for now let’s focus on those two things:

A) Magic is more than a tool. It’s an identity.

B) In the Seven Islands, magic is everywhere…mostly.

Both Fantasy and Sci-Fi authors often begin their journey with one question: “What if…?” For Skylar, I ask “But what if some members of the Ruling Caste HAD magic?” Clearly, that would be a roiling of the entrenched sociopolitical landscape. That then begs a question: “How far would somebody go to conceal who they are?” and further, “Where would they draw the line?”

Welcome to the Seven Islands, as I previously said. It is this year’s Ceremony–a Coming of Age event–and the one that was foretold to shatter the ingrained expectations of behavior and role. We see that issue manifested via the magic.

A) Derrick: yes, he has magic–although he really doesn’t understand it or find it useful. Due to his expected role in the coming prophecy, the muffling of his magic is of the utmost concern. That their a’Lar has and can wield untamed, unprecedented magic would arrive into their civilization like the legendary eruption of Krakatoa did onto this planet.

Key questions:

Where would he use it? How would he use it?

B) Jago: yes, he has magic. Powerful magic, even by Skylar standards. SKYLAR is who he is. He even carries an icon voluntary branded onto his body to show his fealty to the ideals and duties of the Skylar Temple.

Power like his threatens simply with its existence.

C) Jenna: yes, she has magic. Heretofore unseen on the Seven Islands. She can animate the ground beneath everyone’s feet, send rocks to dancing…or to kill. How many civilizations have been felled by the shrugging of Mother Earth?

However, her gender will always keep her from the Ruling Caste. Or will it?

D) Connor: yes, he has magic. As second son, he has zero expectations of moving into the highest eschelon. Additionally, so’s not to shame his family, his talents are not spoken of–until they need him to use it.

Would Connor ever throw off the burdensome yoke of familial expectations?

One of the greatest question that often chases me is: just how much of who we are is determined by the expectations of others? Just look at Prince Charles, now King Charles III. for 70+ years he’s been waiting to step into a role he was destined for.

How fair is that? I mean, if he’d been allowed to be the man he wated to be then the whole damaging chaos of Charles and Diana wouldn’t have happened. But by having experienced that, was he made a better sovereign? Or worse?

We will never know but for Derrick, these are not hypothetical questions:

• Who is Derrick of Vittalar?

• Who is Derrick of Vittalar permitted to love?

• Who does Derrick of Vittalar aspire to be?

And what stands in his way?

There comes a time in everyone’s life when those questions must be answered.

For Derrick, that time is now.

The Obligatory Lesbian

Yep, the WINX series now has one.

Yes, that’s a part of Netflix requirements. Clearly. Also clearly is that it often is the death knell for a series on Netflix. Don’t believe me? I’ll give you some examples of some good series that hit this wall and how others navigated it.

• The Order: magic and werewolves. introduces lesbian dynamics Season 2. No Season 3.
• Mindhunter: the geneisis of Criminal Minds. (Can’t go wrong, yeah?) Lesbian Season 2. No Season 3.
• (not Netflix) S.W.A.T.: openly bisexual but eventually shifted away from that so the series continues. Then, eventually–if I’m not mistaken–the normalized binary relationship for the character.
• Umbrella Academy: (stay with me…) The Vanya character got all into the “lesbian just wants to be a mommy!” gig. Myself–and others–said “Nope! I’m done…” but Season 3 was saved by Vanya becoming Victor, echoing the actor’s transition. (For me: Season 2’s hard boundary was opened up with Season 3’s new gig with the Victor character.)

Now, I love how that was handled, btw. It was done in a way that it was very “normal.” People blink, assimilate, shrug and go on with their lives. No Drama.

Clearly the “I’m gay and coming out!” isn’t interesting to anyone other than a very select few. Clearly the “I’m a lesbian so I deserve to be a mommy!” is a [boring] trope. And (finally) clearly, Netflix–at least–demands a lesbian character, however forced upon the author it is to include them.

Opinion only:

• Too much of the “I’m gay but…!” resulted in dropped viewership so thankfully, expanded character arcs have also been intruduced for the characters to keep viewers engaged.
• S.W.A.T pulled in bisexuality while Vanya became Victor in Umbrella Academy thereby saving some audience members.
• We’ll see what Terra does in the Winx series but her family is leaving the school, basically setting her adift but for “her crew.”

{{…OMG!!! SHE’S HATING!!!..}}

Actually no. As a producing book and screenplay author, I need to be aware of what the publishers/streaming companies want. (E.g. I’m looking toward Neflix, who will spend money on Fx for Skylar. They want a lesbian? I fold one in, as requested.)

I also invert tropes. So when you see a trope, it won’t be what the audience expects and that includes my Obligatory Lesbian character. You are intruduced to her in Balance’s Act One but she makes an aggressive move into the narrative in Balance’s Act Two.

Yes, I also used the “I deserve to be a mommy!” thing but remember: I invert tropes. It won’t be what you expect.

Hopefully when you meet her in the upcoming CATCHING HER BALANCE: Act 2 Into the Fire, you will find her a fascinating and functional character, not just “required fluff.”

Advance warning, everyone! Here comes the trope!

Maverick and Iceman/Love story

Wait…what?

As we return to the joyous memories of Top Gun, with 2022’s Top Gun: Maverick, there’s been much chatter. We see Goose’s son in the pilot’s seat, callsign “Rooster”; we see the face of the “…One Admiral’s Daughter!”, AKA Penny Benjamin; We don’t see either Charlie or Carole; but new–to me at least–is the idea the Top Gun is a love story between Maverick and Iceman.

What was really new to me was the idea that Derrick and Jago’s relationship echoed that dynamic, especially in Chapter One. Derrick wants to do something and Jago is dominant in his defiance of it. The heat sizzles between the two, as it did on the screen between Cruise and Kilmer.

The fact my guys also go nose-to-nose in the chapter was a nod to the two but Not intentional! I swear! But I did see 86’s Top Gun, have loved it for years, and…writers write what they know. There is, however, another dynamic that’s between my two, and considering my previous history as an author of Erotic m/m romance fiction, it’s no surprise.

The Skylar Temple is a place where m-m intimate contact is allowed–encouraged even–because it forges bonds between warriors. Derrick is polyamorous, generous, and loves two people…yeah, you know where I’m going with this..and Jago is a heteroflexible sexual dominant. Yes, that dynamic and the fallout of it will impact both Derrick and Jago’s aspirations

I’m considering crafting a scene or two of “X-Rated” activities in my Patreon account…once I kick it back into gear. Who knows? Maybe even a menage or two.

There’s definitely sexual power dynamics happening between all four of them. Always has been.

Good job catching that plot thread so early!!!

Welcome to The Seven Islands

Specifically, the Fifth Island where Derrick begins the ritual Ceremony. Every five years the upcoming adults must engage in this process, where enemies are identified and unbreakable alliances formed. Watching over it all: the Skylar Temple.

Since Derrick is identified as the Promised One, resulting in expectations of this Ceremony to restructure the Septum, he does not walk this path alone. At his side, as he has been the entirety of their lives, is Jago.

Well…not always, now that you mention it….

I present to you Catching Her Balance, Book One of the Skylar series.

Act One, “Things Fall Apart” is now available on both Amazon and Smashwords for $0.99.

Please enjoy this excerpt:

Prologue

Against a sky lightened by dawn’s warm colors rises an ancient stone citadel. Its towers clawed at the departing darkness like arthritic fingers worrying a cloth. Sea birds swarm and shriek nearby, bearing witness to the restless waves’ endless struggle between the building’s foundation and an incoming, inevitable change.

Within, someone at the edge of adulthood races up a long staircase. Leather boots slap across the worn stone while the robe’s fabric snaps. Gazes of the bored sentries standing at wooden doors follow the figure’s rushed journey upward. At the top, the runner pauses to catch his breath and scan the surroundings.

Lush, thick tapestries drape the walls; art objects shimmer atop their pedestals, tickled by torchlight; armed sentries frame an open portal cut into the north wall, which allows a view beyond the citadel’s walls. Another figure, one wearing the armor of a Skylar war master, paces the rocks outside.

Derrick hurries toward Jago.

The guards snap their pikes together and block his path.

He pushes at the blocking weapons. “What are you doing?”

“Pardon, a’Lar, but you are forbidden,” says the guard on the left.

“Forbidden? The White Island has been breached. My family’s territory is under attack.”  He again shoves at the weapons. “Step aside!”

“The a’Lar must not be risked.” Left Guard says, refusing to yield.

Derrick struggles against the barrier of weapons, which results in one flailing hand making contact with a translucent barrier. A flash of blinding magic lights the area but the barrier does not fall. He realizes, uncomfortably, that magical protections have been put in place to prevent his passage.

Frustrated, he resigns himself to watching his lifelong friend do what he cannot.

And Jago isn’t happy.

The constant wind whips across the outside area, cleaning the rock and tugging at the red rope around his waist. He faces a trio of magi standing near the portal, their hands shoved inside the bell-like sleeves of their robes of green and brown.  

His angry voice cracks across the early morning stillness. “Whadda you mean ‘no’? The island is Vittalar land.”

“The Prophecy rises,” says one cadaver-thin mage.

Jago gives a rude, dismissive gesture. “Then Derrick should be hip deep in this shit, no?”

“Skylar defends Vittalar. Always.” This is the shorter of the two.

Beyond, the bridled head of a Skylar war hawk rises into view as it searches for her usual rider. A hard, impatient peck slices away a sliver of stone from the platform. Jago twists away and faces the restless Regent. He floats a whistle across the area, asking her for patient obedience. The response is a rising three-note chirp.  

When Jago turns back around there are now four magi.  

The newcomer standing in front of Jago is Skylar’s Grandmaster.

“Enough,” says he. “Your magic has pierced the wards those many times you two went skylarking over the island. There is no need for the a’Lar’s presence.”

Jago knows better than to address that subject.

The Grandmaster makes a sweeping gesture. “The White Island is under assault and decades of Vittalar authority requires that area to be untouched. Your magic is the key. You’re needed aloft. Fly, Jago. Fly.”

Obedient to the directive, Jago sprints away. He leaps from the rock ledge and onto the bird. There, he yanks free the bottom edge of his rope belt from his waist and, with a quick twist, loops it around the saddle’s horn. Magic flares, securing him in place.

Regent makes a raspy shriek and spreads her wings, disturbing the crowd below.

Jago takes up the guiding leathers. “Regent, my beauty. Up! Up!”

Grooms crouch against the sweep of air brought by beating wings as the war hawk takes flight. The citadel’s courtyard drops away as the bird and rider rise into the brightening sky. Higher, higher, higher…until the spires of the tall temple are but thin shadows upon the ground.

 Ahead, a teleportation portal spins into existence.  

Jago flips the reins and directs the bird. Regent pierces the portal like an arrow launched toward a bullseye. Below and inside the citadel, Derrick watches the portal swirl close on the heels of the two.

Tasting defeat, he leaves the area and travels deeper into the temple’s halls to eventually join Skylar’s Grandmaster in the viewing room.  There he sees a quartet of magi who’ve formed a ring around a large crystal orb bathed in the dawn’s golden glow. Or perhaps it radiated the glow.  Either way, golden light bathes the watchers.

Another stands near but not part of the circle, one draped in rich, lush fabric that’s not of the temple. Clearly, a lord from somewhere which is not the norm for their culture. This is Falcon, Lord of Hawhurst who gifts the Temple with the majestic war hawks.

Derrick is spotted and the Grandmaster nods a greeting. “Welcome a’Lar.”

Within the orb a picture forms. It’s Jago atop Regent, aggressively swooping through the air near where ships have been anchored close to shore.

Derrick wants answers not greetings. “Why was I—is that the White Island?”

“The wards signaled a breach. Immediate action was required. Jago can slide past the wards, as you both know.”

Derrick avoids the latter part of the comment. “Why was I forbidden to ride a bird?”

“You cannot be risked.”

“Then why am I always here?”

Derrick’s attention if pulled the the viewing orb where Jago and Regent can be seen looping through the sky. Surprisingly, there’s an aggressive response from below which isn’t the norm. Jago’s hands are wrapped in the blue fire of his magic and he’s lobbing balls of magic fire at the attacking ships.

The Grandmaster leans closer, peering intently at the scene.

“I don’t identify that sail emblem,” he mutters, almost to himself, “but I do recognize the craft. They’re from a Septum shipyard.”

Astonishing! “Who would dare? That’s my family’s lands.”

Suddenly shoreline rocks animate and form into knee-high, four-legged creatures…who surge toward people exiting tender boats that had come ashore. An angry wave of aggression that falls upon the sailors who’ve crossed the sands…who die beneath the swarm

Jago’s position aloft changes and his magic leaps from his hands to the shore, laying out a protective sheet of power between the attacking hoard and the sailors. He tosses balls of magic fire at the tender boats which had come ashore.

Not at the people, no, but at the sand, driving the people back toward the ocean.

Foul green magic is launched from one of the anchored boats and wraps Jago and his bird. Regent twists and her beak opens in a silent scream. Lord Hawkhurst hisses his displeasure. Skylar magic reacts and recalls Jago back to the citadel with an opened teleportation disk and the two sucked into it with a thunderbolt of light.

The viewing orb darkens.

“Look away a’Lar,” the Grandmaster says….

Available now at: AMAZON.COM and Smashwords.com for only $0.99

And so here we go…

Into the Halls of the Self-Published I go. Truthfully, that isn’t where I wanted to be. Not that it’s negative–absolutely not!–but I’m the author. I write. This marketing thing is so confusing….

Anyway, It’s up on Smashwords as well as Amazon. Smashwords pays monthly and Amazon pays quarterly. New way of looking at my life. Hey, ch-ch-changes. Like I said…

Anyway, I adore the cover. Yeah. That Derrick his hot, hot, hot! No? Sure, he looks older than the manuscript but I’d bought the cover before I set to writing. It was too good to pass up.

Let’s be honest. Eye candy makes for a good presenataion of the story. Think I’m lying? I’ll direct your attention to….

Huh… Now where…? Oh yeah.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1164168

(yes, he’s wearing pants. You can see the edge atop the A)

Good times.

What isn’t so good? FACEBOOK!

They made some “upgrades” and now I only have access to one of my pages. I can post to one and the other one reflects that post but doesn’t allow me to do anything with it. Sooo vexing.

I’m guessing it’s because of of Whazzizname’s product “Meta” since now there’s icons everywhere for it.

Inescapable

Or maybe it’s me.

Yanno? “Problem Exists Between Keyboard and Chair.”

/nodding

Here’s the FB page I still have access to:

https://www.facebook.com/MichelleRobbinsEroticFiction