Tag Archives: aspholessaria

fantasy, novel

Carthinal’s Practical Exam

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During the writing of The Wolf Pack, I decided to eliminate a chapter where Carthinal took the practical test to end his apprenticeship and enter the world of full mages. This is part of that chapter.

I’ll post more of it eventually. Probably next week.

Please don’t judge it too harshly. It was my first ever attempt at writing a novel!

PRACTICAL

This was it.

The final and most important part of the test was to begin a little later than the others, at the fourth hour.

There were still six of them as all had learned of their success in the previous afternoon’s test, Carthinal and Ebrassaria gaining distinctions. (The elf had looked rather piqued to find that a mere half-elf seemed to be matching her efforts in the written tests.)

This time, instead of going upstairs to the room where they had done their written tests, they were escorted down many flights of stairs to a room well below ground level.

Their guide left them in a circular room devoid of furniture, but which boasted seven doors in the walls, including the one through which they had entered.

Six mages entered from the other doors and introduced themselves to the candidates. There was to be one mage to watch each candidate.

Carthinal’s examiner was an elven mage who introduced herself as Yssalithissandra. (Yssa for short she told him in a whisper, giving him a wink.) One of the examining mages gave them their instructions.

“You will each enter a different door, and have six hours to find the door to return to this room. There will be a number of problems and dangers for you to overcome. When you return, you’ll be assessed on the efficacy of your use of magic and how well you conserved your strength. We will also assess the way you solved any problems you will meet on the way.” He paused to wipe his glasses. You are allowed to take one scroll and one weapon with you, but no magical items.” He looked around the six candidates. “There is a real danger of death in the test before you. If any of you wish to pull out, now is the time.”

Carthinal looked around. No one moved, although Olipeca looked rather pale, and Grimmaldo looked decidedly green. No. No one was going to pull out.

They selected their weapon and scroll.

Carthinal chose to take his dagger, which he always had strapped to his wrist, and a True Seeing scroll, having decided it was quite possible that much of what was behind the door would be illusion. Even with that knowledge he knew that illusions could be deadly too.

They all moved forward as one.

As they reached the doors, Grimmaldo whispered, “Good Luck” to Carthinal. He did not have his usual cheery grin, and he looked decidedly nervous.

Carthinal wondered if he looked as scared and if they would all return through those doors.

The door closed and he was alone in the pitch darkness. He could see nothing at all with normal vision, so he looked around for any heat sources that may denote a living being. Towards the end of the corridor, he could see a vaguely humanoid-shaped red glow.

“Is this enemy number one? I’d better creep closer and see.”

As he came nearer, he could make out a distinctly hobgoblin smell.

“OK, I can deal with this without my spells.”

He released his dagger from the harness holding it on his forearm, and in the same movement threw it unerringly towards the creature’s throat. He was rewarded with a gurgle and saw the reddish shape slump to the floor, the redness fading as the body cooled in death. Carthinal quickly retrieved his dagger while he could still see it.

Now there was only blackness. No sign of any further enemies, but a few paces away from where the body of the hobgoblin lay, the corridor finished in a blank wall.

“What now?” he muttered aloud. “There must be a secret door somewhere. I’ve got six hours to complete this test, so there’s no rush. At least not yet.” He leaned against the wall to think, and as he moved his feet, he heard a scrunching beneath them and realised there were rushes on the ground.

“Torches! Yes!” Cardinal knelt and gathered a bunch of rushes. They were dry, so he set about making a torch. He knew if he set light to them as they were, they would burn far too quickly, so he plaited the ends where he would grip them, and left the tops free. He made a number of these rush torches, taking the time to do so, since he had no idea if he would find any more farther into the labyrinth, or so he surmised it to be.

After he had what he considered a sufficient number, he lit the first torch using the cantrip he had used to light the fires on his journey with Asphodel and Basalt.

It took a few seconds to light, and he thought it was not going to work, but there was a sudden splutter and the makeshift rush torch burst into flame.

The end of the corridor proved not to have any signs of secret doors. He searched twice to be sure, then slowly made his way back up the corridor towards the door through which he had entered. There was no sign of a door on the right hand side, nor, to his surprise, was there any sign of the door through which he had entered.

“Well that ensures we don’t go back,” he muttered as he searched the other wall of the corridor. “Ah! I knew there must be something somewhere!” He could see the very finest line in the stonework.

It was hardly visible, but his elven heritage had given him excellent vision. He wondered for a moment how non-elves would set about finding this door, but that was not his problem, so he put it aside. Mabryl had taught him to focus on the problem at hand and not worry about things he could do nothing about.

“That way lies death,” Mabryl’s voice whispered in his mind.

He also remembered similar instructions from his life in the gangs, before Mabryl had saved him.

It took only a couple of seconds for him to discover the mechanism that opened the door and then a portion of the wall swung inwards with a grinding sound.

“Kassilla’s tits!” he swore. “If anything’s in there, it would have heard that a mile away.” Ensuring there were no rushes to set on fire on the floor of this new corridor, Carthinal stubbed his torch out. He stood in the dark, searching the corridor for signs of life.

No red glowing figures were visible, nor did he hear any sounds. Wait! Was that a shuffling? No … Yes! There was something out there. He could see no heat sources.

Then he realised with a sinking feeling. One of his biggest dreads! Undead!

Well, they knew he was here, and he must be able to see them if he were to fight them, so he re-lit his torch. Sure enough, shuffling slowly along the corridor was a zombie. Carthinal’s mind worked quickly. He needed something more than his dagger here as it was unlikely that a single throw would stop the zombie. Zombies fought with their bare hands, hitting and clawing at their victims, but could do a tremendous amount of damage, especially to an unarmoured mage. He therefore could not risk getting into close combat with it.

A spell then, that was the answer.

Trying any mind influencing spell was no use as undead were generally immune to such spells, not having a mind to affect, so it was no use trying to put it to sleep. He decided to use small bolts of energy.

He quickly took the mana into himself and wove the pattern to absorb energy from the surroundings and transfer it into darts of pure energy.

Two silvery darts shot from his fingertips to bury themselves unerringly in the zombie’s chest.

It staggered and fell to the ground, twitched a few times and then was still.

“I hope there are no more of them! I hate undead, they give me the creeps.”

Carthinal was unsure why he was talking aloud. “Maybe for reassurance. After all, I could actually die in here.”

He quickly quashed the unpleasant thought, but like everything one tries not to think about, the idea kept returning. To try to stop it, he began to talk to himself again.

“I think I’ve been in here now for about an hour and a half. Time to find the door, time to make the rush lights, and two enemies to dispatch. Still plenty of time, but then, I don’t know, do I? I’ve no idea how far I have to go, or what I must face. I’d better move on.”

The corridor curved to the left, meaning Carthinal could not see very far in front of him. It was worse than a sudden corner, as there he could have stopped and looked carefully round, so he walked slowly and quietly along, his back to the wall, and paused every few yards to listen.

His progress was snail-like, but he was as sure as he could be that he was not running into danger unprepared.

The long curving corridor eventually ended with no further traps or enemies to be overcome, and then forked into two ahead of him.

“Now which way?”

He decided to toss a coin as no other ideas came to him. Heads, left, tails right. It came down heads, so he took the lefthand branch.

There was no sign of an enemy, but he moved with care.

The corridor ended in a blank wall.

And here’s a review.

D. W. Peach

4.0 out of 5 stars Plot-driven high fantasy quest

Reviewed in the United States on 12 March 2024

Verified Purchase

The first book in the Wolves of Vimar series opens with the burial of a king and his magical sword, and the sacrifice of twelve warriors whose spirits will protect his body from harm until the eight “wolves” come. This prophecy results, many years later, in a quest, as eight characters are sent by a duke to bring back the sword.

The book is divided into thirds. Part I takes its time introducing the characters who represent a variety of races including humans, elves, dwarves, and their half-elf leader, Carthinal. The group includes the duke’s entitled daughter Randa, a married horselord couple, and a young thief with a thick accent. The backstory for most of the characters comes through multiple points of view with some omnipresent narration.

Part II of the story begins the journey. The author’s attention to world-building is evident as the “wolf pack” wends their way across the land. Part III covers the journey home. The pace is moderate throughout with tangents for fun, humor, and a bit of romance. Much of the book’s journeying reminded me of a Dungeons and Dragons quest, with a variety of creatures offering challenges along the way including Yetis, dragons, bandits, hobgoblins, and other fantasy monsters.

The characters are distinct but for me, the book was more of a plot-driven read than an emotionally-deep character-driven one. Most of the characters don’t have significant arcs apart from Randa, the entitled duke’s daughter, and for that reason, I found her the most interesting. Though the first book in the series, it also stands alone well. Recommended to YA readers of high-fantasy quests who enjoy a leisurely pace, plot-driven stories, and encounters with otherworldly creatures and monsters.

If you would like to read The Wolf Pack, you can get it by clicking here, or on the book cover in the sidebar.

This link will take you to a page where you can buy the book from your favourite online store.

It is available in ebook, paper back, hardback and audio.

Did you enjoy this excerpt? Please leave your comment in the comments box.

This was supposed to be scheduled for Tuesday, but WP didn’t give me the usual option, but posted it right away! I cant find a way to unpublish it, either. So this is my Tuesday’s post early!

fantasy, maps, novel

Exploring the World of Vimar in The Wolves of Vimar Series

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Last week I sent the manuscript of Book 4 of The Wolves of Vimar series. It’s called Immortal’s Death.

I thought you might like to know a bit more about the world of Vimar, so here’s a post about it.

Map created using Inkarnate

Vimar circles its sun in almost exactly 360 days. This leads the people to have divided their year into 12 months of 30 days. Since it is not exactly 360 days, but in fact 360 days and 4 hours, this means that every 6 years an extra day is added to the year. This is added at the end of the year and is called the Day of the Gods. It is a holiday for everyone and as it comes just before Grillon’s Day, also a holiday, when the New Year is celebrated. Everyone looks forward to this time. 

Because all the important astronomical timings are 6 or multiples of 6, the people of Vimar have come to believe that six is a holy number. Thus when they came to devise the timings of the day, they decided to divide it into 24 hours, much as we do on Earth, However, they begin to count their day from the time of sunrise on the 2 equinoxes, unlike Earth, where timing is taken from the mid-point of darkness at this time, more or less. 

Once every place began their day at dawn, regardless of time of year or place on the planet, but as trade increased this became somewhat confusing, and so the standardised time began. Thus what on Earth would be 6am, on Vimar it is 0 hour, and Earth’s 12pm is Vimar’s 6th hour.

Vimar has 2 moons, Lyndor and Ullin. Lyndor is slightly nearer to Vimar than Ullin and appears to be a gold colour. Ullin appears more silvery. It is considered propitious when the moons are both full together, and if both moons are dark, that is considered to be the least lucky time for any ventures. The best times for starting any venture is when both moons are waxing, and conversely, if they are both waning, that is a bad time, although endings can be good at this time.

The world has 2 large continents, The one featured in the Wolf Pack is the continent of Khalram. Grosmer is the largest country on this landmass and has a climate ranging from Mediterranean in the south to cool temperate in the north. To the west, beyond the Western Mountains is a vast plain on which live the nomadic people known as the Horselords for their mastery of the beautiful horses they rear. It is said that a huge ocean lies beyond this plain, but no one knows for sure. 

Beyond the Mountains of Doom, a volcanic range in the east, are the lands of Pelimar, a loose coalition of city states, Erian, ruled by an elected Master and the elven land of Rindisillaron. 

The north of Grosmer is bounded by a huge range of mountains known as the ‘Roof of the World.’ What lies beyond that is unknown. No one who ventured over the mountains has ever returned.

There is a large, mysterious continent to the far east that occasionally comes to the attention of the people of Khalram because of the Raiders who come for plunder and slaves.

Millennia ago, three huge volcanoes stood at around the mid-point of the continent. Over a hundred years, all three exploded violently, plunging the land into a terrible darkness that lasted many years. Eventually, the eastern ocean broke through and created the Three Seas that now sit to the south of Grosmer and Erian.

To the south of the Three Seas is the Great Desert. That, together with the three seas, acts as a barrier. Little is known of the lands beyond.

It was from here that Fero came to live in Grosmer.

Building a believable world can be a daunting task. I did research into geography and geology in order to make it believable. The deserts, for example, are in the same places as they are on Earth.

North of the three seas, the climate is Mediterranean, and as one progresses northwards, it becomes more like the UK, especially around Frind, just south of the Roof of the World.

announcement

I’m back after my month long break.

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Hi, Everybody.

I’m back from my July break, now and am once more starting my weekly blog.

Here’s a poem for today from my poetry book July to December, One Poem a Day. It’s today’s poem in the book.

Image by DiDeeChen from Pixabay

Decisions.

I went out for a coffee
To my local coffee house
The girl who was serving me
Smiled and brushed her blouse.
“What would you like?” she said quite clear
And then listed all the options near.

“Americano, or flat white
Espresso, Latte, that’s quite nice.
You can have mocha, if you must
Or cappuccino with chocolate dust.
We serve iced coffee when it’s hot
And Irish coffee when it’s not.”

There was far too much choice.
What were these things she offered me?
I was confused. I lost my voice.
Once upon a time, you see,
This was all you’d hear her say
“Black or white for you today?”

So what have I been up to during this time?

Well, the first thing I’d like to tell you is that I’ve just sent the manuscript of Book 4 of The Wolves of Vimar series to Next Chapter, my publisher. It’s called Immortal’s Death. I hope the title is intriguing. What do you think of it?

Now begins the waiting game to see if they accept it!

Image by u_wuwiwxkylg from Pixabay

I finished the first draft what seems like ages ago. Yes! It was ages ago. Then began the editing and re-writes.

I ran it through Grammarly to help with the grammar and spelling, then it went onto Scribophile for the critique process. That took ages because there is a limit to the number of words you can submit. Usually a chapter is OK to fit into their limitations, but occasionally one has to be divided into 2 parts.

This story is more complicated than the other books. The group of friends, called Wolf, split up and do different things, thus causing the POV to change. I labelled each chapter with the POV character’s name to make this clear.

Image by Jim Cooper from Pixabay

Muldee, a little dragonet with telepathic powers, insisted he had a larger role in this book. His ability to read minds is important on several occasions, and so I gave him his way.

Basalt, a dwarf, still hates water and horses, and incidents in the book re-enforce this.

Randa’s horse, Storm, a feisty black stallion, has a bigger role than previously, too.

King Perdillon II and Duke Rollo have important parts. The king especially. He is finding it difficult to make decisions as he has to decide between his duty to his country and his family.

And War comes to Grosmer.

I’ll keep you updated as to what is happening with the book, but it will be a while before I hear anything more.

What have you been up to during July? If you have any comments, please add them to the comments box. I love hearing from you.

Guest Post, Poetry

I’m visiting Robbie Cheadle on her blog tomorrow.

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First of all, I apologise for no post yesterday day. I had a dreadful cold over the weekend, which is when I usually sort out my posts for the following Tuesday. I’m not completely recovered yet, but am well on the way. It was the worst cold I’ve had in ages. Colds don’t usually stop me in my tracks, but this one did!

The good news is that today I’m visiting Robbie Cheadle on her blog. I would like to thank her for asking me. It’s a great honour to be asked by such an excellent author and poet.

To see the post, click on the button below.

Go to Robbie’s blog.

Guest Post, interview

Read My Exclusive Interview on Mary Deal’s Blog

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I was recently interviewed by Mary Deal and the interview is now released on her website.

Mary is one of my favourite authors. She writes mystery, suspense and romance. Her writing is excellent and I am honoured that she wanted me to appear on her blog.

Thank you, Mary, for allowing me to visit.

If you would like to pop over and read the interview, click on the button below.

I want to read the interview.

nature, plants, Poetry

Discover the Beauty of Spring Through Poetry

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 I thought I’d write some poems about the seasons. Here is one about spring.

Spring is a lovely month. We’ve lived through the cold of winter and the seeming death of life. Many animals hibernate through the winter and are not seen; the trees are bare; the grass stops growing and many plants die back.

But with the spring, the sun gets warmer and life begins anew. It is an optimistic time of year.

Spring

Dandelions, like gold, cover the meadows.
Newborn lambs frolic in fields.
New leaves on the trees are casting their shadows
And winter’s cold grip quickly yields.

At the edges of woodland the primroses glow
And cowslips their scent fills the air.
Anemones dance when the breezes do blow
And birds sing with never a care.

Then bluebells and campions come into bloom
Their colour the blue of the sea.
The cuckoo, that herald of spring, will come soon,
His call echoing over the lea.

The song of the blackbird is like molten gold.
His notes are so pure and so clear.
Hearing him seems to banish the cold
And brings joy to all those who hear.

Robin is nesting, and other birds too,
The hedgehog is active once more.
The young of the deer and the badger and shrew
Play their games as in old days of yore.

The sun climbs higher and higher each day
Giving more of his heat and his light.
It sparkles like stars fallen into the bay.
All smile at the beautiful sight.

Hope and excitement come with each spring morn.
What blessings will come with this day?
New starts can begin once again with each dawn
And send us all hopeful away.

I hope you enjoyed my spring poem. It can be found in my poetry book, Miscellaneous Thoughts along with many more of my poems, both about the seasons and nature and a variety of other subjects.

If you would like to read more of them, you can click on the book cover in the sidebar, or click the button to take you to the online bookstore of your choice. It is available in ebook format as well as a ‘real’ book.

Get my book

Uncategorized

A Story About Wealth

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How Wealthy Are You? A Lesson from the Midas Touch
memories

Creating Sound: Childhood Instruments and Memories

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I was changing the toilet roll in the bathroom the other morning when I inexplicably thought about how toilet rolls were in the 1950s.

Yes, I’m that old.

Anyway, I thought about the old Izal toilet rolls. 

They were a bit like tracing paper. In fact, we sometimes used them as such. They were hard and very scratchy. Horrid.

‘What has this to do with music?’ I hear you ask.

Well, while it was not good for its original purpose, it was brilliant to use with a comb to make a paper and comb musical instrument.

For those who don’t know about this, you wrapped the paper loosely around the teeth of the comb and made a buzzing sound with your lips. This made the paper vibrate and make a sound. By altering the pitch, you could play a tune.

We used to take a piece of broad-leaved grass, hold it vertically between our thumbs. Blowing our thumbs made a sound. 

Admittedly, not a nice one!

Paper straws could also be made into a kind of noise-producing item. Cut the end of the straw so it made an inverted V shape and blow. This didn’t last long, though, as the end got wet and stopped working. Pitch could be varied by the length of the straw. A group could play a simple tune. (Theoretically!)

Blowing across the end of bottles was a good noise-maker, too. If you got different sized bottles, you could make different notes.

We also made noises by cupping our hands together and blowing between our thumbs. But raising the fingers of the top hand, we made different notes. Favourite was a cuckoo’s call.

Tapping a pencil on your teeth and moving your mouth would also change the pitch of the tap, and you could ‘play’ a tune.

The last one I remember took some organising.

You took a wine glass (your mother’s best worked well) and added a little water. You dipped your finger in to make it damp, then ran it gently around the rim. It made a ringing sound. 

If you added different amounts of water to several glasses, you could, with a lot of trial and error, get a scale, thus play a simple tune.

Admittedly, some of these can hardly be described as music, but still…

Did you do any of these things? Do you know of any other things we did in childhood to make sounds? Let us know in the comments.

If you would like to buy any of my books, simply click on the image in the sidebar and you will be taken to a page where you can buy in any format from your favourite online store.

The ebook of each of the series is free.

history

A Chilling Comparison.

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Morgan has compared the rise of Hitler to that of Trump.

Are You Tired of the Darkness? A Motivation to Make a Small Change.
christmas, serial, short story, stories, Winter

Goldie’s Journey: From Hardship to a Warm Home. (Goldie and the Beare Family Part 7)

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Image by V.M.Sang using Bing Image Generator.

Picture shows a well-dressed Victorian woman with small blonde girl and a slightly older boy walking along a snowy street. A ragged man and boy watch them pass.

Goldie could not believe what was happening. This must be a dream, and soon she would wake to hunger and cold, not to mention fear of Mr Smith. 

She sat on a small stool before the fire. Warmth. Lovely warmth. Even with no clothes on, she felt warm. Warmer than she ever remembered.

This was a beautiful house. She had never been inside a house like this. It was clean, with furniture that was not broken or torn. Thick curtains that would keep out the cold. Clutching Jacob Rabbit to her naked chest, she stood and wandered to feel them. Soft. Almost as soft as Jacob.

“Is this real?” she whispered to the rabbit.

The door opened and Mrs Beare came in. 

Mamma, she said I was to call her.

“I’ve borrowed these clothes from the vicar’s wife, Emily. She has a little girl about your age. Come and let me help you to dress.”

I’m Emily again. I have my proper name back.

Mamma dressed her in what looked like expensive clothes. She had always worn clothes passed on to the poor by richer folk. They had been worn out in places, and the fabric thin.

Mamma held up a white dress. “Arms up,” she said. 

When Emily complied, she dropped the dress over the child’s head. “Now turn around so I can do up the buttons.”

When the buttons were fastened, Mamma tied a blue ribbon around her waist.

The dress was not as long as Mamma’s. It came halfway down her calves. A hint of the frill around the legs of her bloomers peeped from below.

Mamma picked up a brush and teased out the tangles from her golden hair. “I can see why they called you Goldie. And you have a soft natural curl to your hair. It will be easy to fashion.” She held Emily at arm’s length. “You are exquisite. Now let us go and eat dinner before Mrs White has a fit.”

They left the sitting room and entered the dining room. 

 Mr Beare’s eyes opened wide. “I can’t believe this is the same little girl that was asleep in Harold’s room. She’s beautiful.”

Emily smiled and cast her eyes down.

Jane had set a fourth place, and when all four were seated, Mrs White entered carrying a platter on which sat a large goose. She was followed by Jane with a tray of dishes. The pair placed their burdens on the table.

“I’m sorry about the soup, Ma’am,” Mrs White said. “There was not enough to feed you all.” She glared at Emily.

Emily felt her face heating.

“That is all right, Mrs White. It wasn’t your fault,” Mrs Beare replied.

Emily squirmed in her seat and kept her eyes down. It was her fault there was not enough soup.

Mr Beare, Papa, carved the goose and served everyone.

There were potatoes, and a sauce made from some kind of green fruit. Mamma said they were gooseberries, so called because they were served with goose. Another dish had sprouts, and yet another had carrots.

After eating all these delicious foods, Emily had never felt so full in her life. She thought of the thin gruel she had eaten at Mr Smith’s, and grimaced.

After Jane cleared the remnants and dirty crockery, Mrs White returned with a plum pudding. She placed it carefully on the table and Mrs Beare served each of them. 

When they finished eating, Harold looked at her, and took a deep breath. “It’s Christmas, Mamma. We had our presents, but Emily hasn’t had anything.”

Emily grinned. “Yes, I have. I have a new home and family. That’s the best Christmas present ever.”

“But I want to give you something.” He pulled Jacob Rabbit from under the table. “You are now my little sister. You love Jacob, and so I’ll give him to you.”

His parents smiled.

After eating, the family repaired to the sitting room, Emily clutching Jacob Rabbit to her chest. Mamma sat at the piano and played Christmas carols, to which they all joined in singing. After a while, Papa got out the dominoes and they played until Emily ‘s eyes began to close.

Jane had made up a bed for her in her very own room. As she lay, her eyes closing, she believed this was the best day ever.

*****

Mr Smith stomped around the sparse loft room. “What d’you mean, no one’s seen ’er? She can’t just disappear.”

Jack spoke quietly. “P’rhaps she ran away after you beat ’er.”

“Then she’ll be ‘idin’ somewhere.” He turned to the other children. “All of you. Go out and search. Look in every corner, every empty ‘ouse, ware’ouses; everywhere you can think of.”

A few weeks later, Jack went up to Mr Smith, cowering. “I seen Goldie.”

Mr Smith grabbed the boy. “Where? Why didn’t you bring her back?”

“Couldn’t. She were with a well-to-do lady. Dressed nice, she were. Lady were ‘oldin’ her ‘and, like she were her mother or summat.”

Mr Smith sank into his chair. “Couldn’t be ‘er. A girl what looks like her. That’s who you saw.”

Jack shook his head. “Was ‘er a’right. Saw me, she did. Shook her ‘ead at me. Rekernised me for sure.”

“Well, we’ve searched for ‘er for weeks now. We need to get back to business. There’s no money coming in while you are all out searchin’. If that were Goldie you saw, she’s lost to us.”

The End

I hope you enjoyed the story of Goldie. Please let me know what you thought in the comments.