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So, as you might have seen on the news board, I'm in the process of having a book published, Embers of Time. Now that may or may not end up being the final title, as it is already in title as a romance novel (much to my dismay), as well as a Wiccan religion title.
With that being said, I am in promotion, so it is no surprise that I am promoting here, and I do hope that you all enjoy the book if you purchase it, or even pirate it off of a torrent. It doesn't matter to me, it's just a dream I've had to have an actual book completed.
Also, I am not including the full prelude, but a section of it, until I know for sure what my abilities to do so are.
I'm not always quite so literary...and I'm drunk while posting this. Fancy that, I can type as if I had ten fingers right now...oh and I do, they just look like five at the moment.
So, with no further introduction planned...
With that being said, I am in promotion, so it is no surprise that I am promoting here, and I do hope that you all enjoy the book if you purchase it, or even pirate it off of a torrent. It doesn't matter to me, it's just a dream I've had to have an actual book completed.
Also, I am not including the full prelude, but a section of it, until I know for sure what my abilities to do so are.
I'm not always quite so literary...and I'm drunk while posting this. Fancy that, I can type as if I had ten fingers right now...oh and I do, they just look like five at the moment.
So, with no further introduction planned...
Embers of Time
By Alden S. Hawthorne
Prelude
By Alden S. Hawthorne
Prelude
"What was once untouched, rugged, and pure in all forms had become sordid, and tainted. It was a redoubtable pain that was lifted to the air by tens of thousands of voices, harshly endured by the ears of many more. The people of the Andurican Mountains were being annhilated. Many had fled down the rocky outcroppings and treacherous cliffs. Some plummeting leagues below off of the edges. The risk was not calculated here. It could not be. There was only a group instinct to this process and it was maddening. The blades of the invaders cut tracks of crimson to reveal only more of their inten-", Jessick was cut short by the small hand that presented itself shortly below his eyes horizon.
"Yes, what it is it Martessa?", he asked with some annoyance.
"How come the people didn't just fight back?", it was more of a request to change the story by the small girl than a question on Jessick's recount of history.
He protested her question with an indignant look.
"Now who are we to change history, then?", he exclaimed with frustration.
His furrowed brow softened as he looked upon her pleading face, "Oh very well." Jessick adjusted his position on the small wooden foot stool and sighed before continuing. "They desperately clammored down and found that there was no passage that presented itself to them. One by one the voices rose up, and each of them turned to face their attackers. Those that were once fleeing were now mighty with courage and stained pride. They ripped the limbs from weathered firs that grew along the craggy cliffs and made haste to return blow for blow. The mountain people were now fighting with all of their strength and will. They battled the invaders throughout the night, and well into dawns first light. Here they were victorious!" Jessick lifted a wooden brush from the girl's bed table and swung it wildly to her delight. "Yes, and here you are to sleep!" He grinned coyly and received an imposter of a frown from her.
"Oh now, don't give me such looks. You'll be waking before you know it and soon enough chasing me around, questioning me and doing what all such sisters do. Now off to sleep with you." He grinned once more before blowing out the candle.
"Jessick?", Martessa's voice quietly reached through the newly darkened room.
Jessick groaned as if pained by a searing brand. "What, sister?"
"Would you fight or run?", the question, plain as it was, stabbed with an imploring moral judgement for Jessick. He paused for a long moment before answering.
"For you sister? For you I would fight." He smiled to himself knowing it to be true. As much as the child had persisted in pestering him daily, he loved her with an unwavering loyalty.
The room fell silent after a short time and was only graced by the child's hushed snoring.
Jessick cracked the door to the room allowing just enough light in, and slipped into bed in his room just across the hall.
As he lay there in the silence he reflected on this harvest season's travels. They hadn't been much different from the two seasons before, but something disturbed him now. History appeared to be resurfacing and the stories of the 'folk' had been emerging greatly. They were more reclusive and inclined to keep their history a secret from him in seasons past. It disturbed him that they had such a change of heart. Perhaps he, like his younger sister, cared to imagine a pristine world where the travesties of men were non-existent. Slowly with the unknown burden lifting from his shoulders, sleep took its place and heavily weighed itself upon his eyelids. He slipped gradually at first, then the weariness of travel took its toll on his body and he drifted gratefully into a new world...
There are many in the world that would find fault with those of your nature, young one. Many that would find you too inquisitive for your own good. I am not one of those however. This is good, is it not? I have heard the other folk speak of your inquiries with disdain and almost hatred. What is it you seek, man? Perhaps you would turn these secrets upon our people? It is with little trust that we grant you access to trade in our corner of the world. Why now would you reap our past to sow your own glory?
Jessicks dreams were riddled with images of runic transcript not of a language he could understand. He struggled to decipher them. Over and over again he took an inkless quill to parchment attempting to trace the images. He cried out in anger, feeling helpless to grasp the nature of what was presented to him. The inscriptions taunted him dancing upon the crushed pulp of dead tree, laughing in a language beyond his comprehension. When he thought his mind could no longer endure the pain, the morning's first light poked through his window rendering him helpless to a fitful waking.
Jessick woke with beads of sweat dripping from his brow. His eyes scanned the ceiling of the small home and focused on random dust particles in the fresh day light. The down filled mattress he rested upon was a true sign of his limited wealth, but it was a worthy investment as it allowed him the first moments of his day to live in comfort even if the rest of his day was filled with tireless work and negotiations. He stretched and shook off the images of this dream that haunted him for a fortnight. As he retracted from the ritual morning stretch and yawn the sound of small feet raced from the other room to his. He prepared himself for this onslaught of affection and with one hand protected his most precious posession from the leaping child.
Martessa flew into the room as if she were part lark being chased by a predator hawk. Her girlish squeels filled the house and suddenly she was upon him!
As she landed roughly on Jessick he stared at her for a moment, "You'll never stop will you?" he chuckled.
"No.", she replied with a wicked grin.
With that he yawned once more, even through the barrage of her small fingers probing for ticklish spots on his sides. It had become a regular morning event, but Jessick owed her that much. It had only been two years since their parents had disappeared, and the questioning had not ceased to their whereabouts until a few months ago. Still, the pain had never ceased, and it was these brief moments together that dulled it just enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, please look for it at the first quarter of next year (2008), I hope! I look forward to writing more, and continue to write for Sundren! Note this is all before editing...so please, I know my writing is choppy, it's alright no need to tell me over and over again, my mother, grandmother and girlfriend have ALL shown me little clemency with regards to proper grammar.
"Yes, what it is it Martessa?", he asked with some annoyance.
"How come the people didn't just fight back?", it was more of a request to change the story by the small girl than a question on Jessick's recount of history.
He protested her question with an indignant look.
"Now who are we to change history, then?", he exclaimed with frustration.
His furrowed brow softened as he looked upon her pleading face, "Oh very well." Jessick adjusted his position on the small wooden foot stool and sighed before continuing. "They desperately clammored down and found that there was no passage that presented itself to them. One by one the voices rose up, and each of them turned to face their attackers. Those that were once fleeing were now mighty with courage and stained pride. They ripped the limbs from weathered firs that grew along the craggy cliffs and made haste to return blow for blow. The mountain people were now fighting with all of their strength and will. They battled the invaders throughout the night, and well into dawns first light. Here they were victorious!" Jessick lifted a wooden brush from the girl's bed table and swung it wildly to her delight. "Yes, and here you are to sleep!" He grinned coyly and received an imposter of a frown from her.
"Oh now, don't give me such looks. You'll be waking before you know it and soon enough chasing me around, questioning me and doing what all such sisters do. Now off to sleep with you." He grinned once more before blowing out the candle.
"Jessick?", Martessa's voice quietly reached through the newly darkened room.
Jessick groaned as if pained by a searing brand. "What, sister?"
"Would you fight or run?", the question, plain as it was, stabbed with an imploring moral judgement for Jessick. He paused for a long moment before answering.
"For you sister? For you I would fight." He smiled to himself knowing it to be true. As much as the child had persisted in pestering him daily, he loved her with an unwavering loyalty.
The room fell silent after a short time and was only graced by the child's hushed snoring.
Jessick cracked the door to the room allowing just enough light in, and slipped into bed in his room just across the hall.
As he lay there in the silence he reflected on this harvest season's travels. They hadn't been much different from the two seasons before, but something disturbed him now. History appeared to be resurfacing and the stories of the 'folk' had been emerging greatly. They were more reclusive and inclined to keep their history a secret from him in seasons past. It disturbed him that they had such a change of heart. Perhaps he, like his younger sister, cared to imagine a pristine world where the travesties of men were non-existent. Slowly with the unknown burden lifting from his shoulders, sleep took its place and heavily weighed itself upon his eyelids. He slipped gradually at first, then the weariness of travel took its toll on his body and he drifted gratefully into a new world...
There are many in the world that would find fault with those of your nature, young one. Many that would find you too inquisitive for your own good. I am not one of those however. This is good, is it not? I have heard the other folk speak of your inquiries with disdain and almost hatred. What is it you seek, man? Perhaps you would turn these secrets upon our people? It is with little trust that we grant you access to trade in our corner of the world. Why now would you reap our past to sow your own glory?
Jessicks dreams were riddled with images of runic transcript not of a language he could understand. He struggled to decipher them. Over and over again he took an inkless quill to parchment attempting to trace the images. He cried out in anger, feeling helpless to grasp the nature of what was presented to him. The inscriptions taunted him dancing upon the crushed pulp of dead tree, laughing in a language beyond his comprehension. When he thought his mind could no longer endure the pain, the morning's first light poked through his window rendering him helpless to a fitful waking.
Jessick woke with beads of sweat dripping from his brow. His eyes scanned the ceiling of the small home and focused on random dust particles in the fresh day light. The down filled mattress he rested upon was a true sign of his limited wealth, but it was a worthy investment as it allowed him the first moments of his day to live in comfort even if the rest of his day was filled with tireless work and negotiations. He stretched and shook off the images of this dream that haunted him for a fortnight. As he retracted from the ritual morning stretch and yawn the sound of small feet raced from the other room to his. He prepared himself for this onslaught of affection and with one hand protected his most precious posession from the leaping child.
Martessa flew into the room as if she were part lark being chased by a predator hawk. Her girlish squeels filled the house and suddenly she was upon him!
As she landed roughly on Jessick he stared at her for a moment, "You'll never stop will you?" he chuckled.
"No.", she replied with a wicked grin.
With that he yawned once more, even through the barrage of her small fingers probing for ticklish spots on his sides. It had become a regular morning event, but Jessick owed her that much. It had only been two years since their parents had disappeared, and the questioning had not ceased to their whereabouts until a few months ago. Still, the pain had never ceased, and it was these brief moments together that dulled it just enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, please look for it at the first quarter of next year (2008), I hope! I look forward to writing more, and continue to write for Sundren! Note this is all before editing...so please, I know my writing is choppy, it's alright no need to tell me over and over again, my mother, grandmother and girlfriend have ALL shown me little clemency with regards to proper grammar.
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