Showing posts with label dragon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dragon. Show all posts

Sunday, 11 August 2019

Book Spotlight: The Dragon's Seamstress

Today I have a lovely treat with a book spotlight on the novel The Dragon's Seamstress (book five in the Antique Magic series) by Juli D. Revezzo.




The Dragon's Seamstress by Juli D. Revezzo




Since Caitlin and Trevor vowed to assist the Otherworld and opened their enchanted antique shop, they’ve seen many strange things. But now, someone comes in looking for a mundane item: kitschy “witches” brooms. Has their magical life returned to normal?

As the couple prepares to host a family gathering, fate intervenes and something they've never seen before roars into their life: A creature out of Welsh legend and fantasy: A blundering, somewhat underdeveloped dragon—if one can call a dragon blundering. Forced to undertake his unique challenge, Caitlin and Trevor are perplexed by his demands, but the magical beast is certain only they can help him.

Doing so might unlock an ancient hidden secret—or destroy them.






You can find on The Dragon's Seamstress on Amazon or Goodreads



The Artist's Inheritance (Antique Magic #1) 
Caitlin's Book of Shadows (Antique Magic #2) 
Drawing Down the Shades  (Antique Magic #3) 
Mourning Dove Locket (Antique Magic #4) 
The Dragon's Seamstress  (Antique Magic #5)





About the Author




Juli D. Revezzo loves fantasy and Celtic mythology and writing stories with all kinds of fantastical elements. She is the author of the historical romances, Courting the Stationmaster's Daughter, House of Dark Envy, steampunk romances, Vesta's Clockwork Companions and Watchmaker's Heart, and the fantasy Gothic romance Lady of the Tarot, The Dragon Seamstress, part of the Antique Magic paranormal series,  and much more. She is also a member of the Independent Author Network and the Magic Appreciation Tour.









Tuesday, 10 July 2018

The Dark Archer Blog Tour: A Guest Post by Robert Cano

Today we join the blog tour for the new dark fantasy release, The Dark Archer by Robert Cano, with a look at the book and a delightful guest post by the author. Enjoy!



The Dark Archer by Robert Cano


~The light had no equal in this place, no balance with which to suffer the loss of day, and she wondered about the nighttime.  Is this why the stars were crying?~





All he wanted was the safety of his princess. What he received was eternal torment. 
Bereft of a soul, a wraith who should have no ties to humanity, Bene wants nothing more than release from his twisted existence. Trapped between life and nothingness, he hopes to reclaim his soul and find the death he so desperately desires.
Bene finds rare solace in the company of Feorin, a satyr war hero who chose exile over continuing the centuries long war with the Fae. He doesn't look at Bene with fear or contempt, but rather hope. If a wraith can find a path to redemption, perhaps he could as well…








The Dark Archer is available for pre-order at Amazon.
Also available at Smashwords and at Amazon Canada 

It releases July 26th, 2018.


~He felt an overwhelming sense of dread at the prospect of what his life had become in such a short time. Once in service to the greatest kingdom in the world, he was now a literal nothing with a physical form.~


 Darkness by Robert Cano



The worlds we have all come to love and know, whether based in our own world, or based in some form of fantasy setting, require some level of darkness; something antagonistic, to counter our favorite protagonists.   What constitutes darkness may change with every tale, and we are required to ask again: What is light?  What is darkness?  Is there only pure evil or pure good to be found in either? Over the last century, or so, we have seen a trend where darkness is not the result of pure evil, but of the inconsistencies in the human soul. Today fantasy gives us an opportunity to explore the human condition in magical and fantastical ways, but make no mistake, we are still exploring humanity, even if wearing another face.
When we look at authors like Tolkien, or perhaps Lovecraft, with his Cthulu mythos and the world surrounding that, we see Big Bads.  Pure evil is in the form of something tangible, with honor strewn throughout the world, found in the people, in the little things.  Gandalf, in The Hobbit, said, “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found.  It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay.  Small acts of kindness and love.  Why Bilbo Baggins?  Perhaps because I am afraid, and he gives me courage.”
And while there is a profound truth to be found in this statement, experience in the world teaches something quite different, doesn’t it?  What we find instead is that the evil resides within all of us, that the horrors of the world are of our own making, and not that of some devil or demons, that these demons are, in fact, our own, being manifested through the hells we have been made to endure as we traverse this life. 
Joseph Conrad once said, “The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary, men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.”  Regardless of one’s personal belief system, any time spent on Earth will demonstrate the truth of this.  The greatest horrors and atrocities in the history of mankind were not done by the hand of God, perhaps in the name of one or more, but never by their hand.  Always it was at the hand of mankind.
In creating the darkness of a fantasy, we need go no further than the darkness of the human heart.  I have long believed that the beauty of Tolkien’s work was found in the light vs dark dichotomy.  In the idea that everyone is inherently good, and the evil of the world is found externally, from a specific source beyond ourselves.  That our evil can be traced back to the influence of that source.   However, there is a silver lining to be found in the evil of humanity, for then our tormentors wear a face we can fight against, but in that same vein, our tormentors can be anyone.
So how do we incorporate old world idealism with contemporary shifts in writing?  The idealism is no longer found in the light, but in the individual, within the actions one chooses to enact on their world, in the moment.  But herein also lies the darkness.  A choice, even a well-meaning choice, can easily lead down a path from which there is no redemption.  These are the ideas grounded in realism.  
I believe there are truly honorable people in the world, and I think George R. R. Martin does an incredible job of embodying this with Ned Stark’s character in the series, A Song of Ice and Fire, in which Lord Stark does what he believes is right, regardless of the circumstances.  But, there is a price for honor.  And usually that price is high.  The belief in one’s self actions as being that of utmost importance, or the idea that our role in this world is to embody the ideal, is something we see even in our current situation in the United States, and indeed much of the world.
The ‘us vs them’ mentality is spawned not from wrongness, but absolute belief in self, which is then worsened by surrounding oneself with others who think along similar lines.  The problem, then, is not light vs darkness, but a perceived light pitted against another perceived light, which are both also perceived darkness, from another’s point of view. 
Perception is everything.
When working on my stories I am keen to incorporate these aspects of thought and ideas into every piece of the proverbial puzzle.  It is important to question whether darkness is evil, or perhaps it is merely darkness.  Maybe darkness is a comfort: a source of something greater.  At the end, in my mind at least, the construct of good and evil is humanity’s attempt to explain away the evil within us all, with light and dark being of religious origin.
We have always been afraid of what we cannot see or understand.  Darkness is the purest example.  We fear new places, new things, we are frightened of the unknown.  Perhaps it is from this deep-seated fear that we find darkness likened to evil so often, especially in early texts…and this has bled over into today’s world, where we still hold on to superstitions en masse.  However, I think in today’s world, people are less inclined to believe the absolutes, and this has led to a desire to read something more realistic.

For the world of The Dark Archer, I created the concept of darklings, or those borne of dark magic.  They are often relegated to evil by the other races of the world, but they are what they are, and nothing else.  It is often said amongst writers that the antagonist is the hero in their version of the tale, an important concept to remember when trying to create believable characters. The darklings of this world include banshees, wraiths, and the Inklet (humanoid draconids).  The darkness in each of these species comes not from an existential evil, but from how their needs contrast with those of the rest of the world.
Hunger, that painfully stabbing hunger that overrides all functions of thought or reason…this is what a wraith is.  It will feed without pity, or remorse, or compassion, for it lacks all of these.  So then, is the wraith the antagonist?  Is it the conflict?  What is its purpose?  In lore, wraiths were pure evil, intent on stealing the souls of their victims, and this is where I pulled the idea of an entity without a soul.  For if you have lost something, the ultimate hope would be to regain it. 
This speaks to the conflict inherent in everyday life.  Whether the conflict is internal, or against nature itself, or between people (usually a mix of all three), our characters should reflect this fundamental element of life.  Struggles come in many forms, and exploring these struggles creates the most relatable characters, and isn’t that what we want?  To be able to see ourselves in the characters we love?  Or maybe we love these characters because we see ourselves in them…and not just the good aspects.
It is my duty as an author to keep these little life lessons in mind, close to heart, and to use them to the benefit of my readers, not only into the worldbuilding aspects, but into the characters themselves: into both the interactions between the characters and they with the world in which they find themselves.  Life is for the living, but in this world, it is also for those not willing to quite give up just yet.  For within the darkest times there is yet hope. 
And perhaps that is what hope is – a means of continuing even when the world has given up, even if forlorn and bereft of any real reason for hope, maybe, just maybe, it’s that perseverance that separates the hero, whether seen as good or evil, from the common man or the antagonist.  Or perhaps the protagonist’s worst enemy isn’t the antagonist at all, but his or herself…  After all, our greatest enemy is always ourselves. 




“Bene was not always a wraith, becoming a darkling was forced on him. He was once a captain of the guard for a kingdom, in service to his princess who betrayed his service and allowed him to suffer the greatest suffering known to the world.”


Wednesday, 17 August 2016

Drabble Wednesday: Strange Sports

Welcome to Drabble Wednesday, the Olympic Edition! Here you find some odd events indeed... Now on to the gold!




Pointed Competition

It’s been a hard day here in the Archery Competition at the Medieval Olympics.
The favourites, Sir Pellinore and Sir Malcolm failed to make the finals, out in the third cycle.
Now, the leading competitor Sir Archibald steps up for his last round.
He takes his shot... oh my word, I think he’s done it!
What a shot! Three serfs down with one arrow! A new world record!
Wait! One of the peasants is still writhing on the ground! We will have to go the judges for a decision.
Yes, yes! It is official! Sir Archibald wins the gold medal!

~*~




Off To The Races

Welcome to the final day of equestrian dragon racing! The five competitors are ready at the start and there’s the bell! They’re off!
It’s Windworm of Berk taking an early lead, with Tharina of Alagaësia and Baroth of Pern close on her tail! The oldest participant, Fafnir of Asgard, and newcomer Lyron of Westeros are lagging well behind the pace.
They’re rounding the first turn, and it’s still—wait! Fafnir of Asgard is attacking Lyron! She’s going down! That’s immediate disqualification for Fafnir! Now he’s breathing fire on the other racers! It’s a repeat of last year! Oh, the tragedy...

~*~




Jump For Your Life

“Things have gotten very interesting at this pole vaulting competition, Sir Wendell, with the fifth consecutive contestant killed and eliminated. I thought Giles the candle maker had a chance after he cleared the deadly moat, but the hot oil chucker at the top of the wall ended his attempt.”
“Yes, Sir Percy, too bad for Giles. Let’s see how our next athlete does, shall we?”
“Oh look, it’s Bartholomew the baker. This is his first time competing.”
“Yes, he’s having a go with only twenty minutes training.”
“Oh no, it’s the water for him. Another meal for the moat monster.”





© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved



Wednesday, 10 August 2016

Drabble Wednesday: Sages and Stories

Today on Drabble Wednesday, come read the old tales, stories told by elders to the new generations...




The River

Once, in the forest of time, our people followed the Great River. We camped on its banks, fished in its waters, hunted game on the surrounding plains, or in the shadows of its woodland. We lived in peace. We were content.
Then came the time of no rains. When the grass dried and the trees died. When the people of the Far City stole our river, and we went to war.
A war we lost.
Our surviving people scattered, migrating to the distant corners of the kingdom. All that remains of us, of the river, is dry dust and ghosts.

~*~





The Enemy

Gather round, children, as I tell of the horrors that lie beyond our home.
Once we were alone in this land. We had no restrictions, we roamed freely. We made homes where we pleased, not simply here in the mountains. We did not hide.
Until they came. Until they drove us from the land with their weapons, their war.
Once we flew in the skies unfettered. Now we are hunted, our wings torn, our bodies maimed. We are killed. Our enemies are monsters.
Remember this children. Never approach the humans. Always avoid them, their villages. Dragonkind must be ever vigilant.

~*~



Time and Tide

The wide, unfathomable sea. It calls to sailors, and buries their bones in its cold, murky embrace. Great ocean storms swallow ships whole, yet sometimes it gives back. Bits and bodies carried to the shores and beaches. But sometimes it keeps what it claims.
And sometimes who it claims doesn’t quite die.
Submerged in the depths, the spirits wait. Their whispers ride the waves. Their anger fuels the storms. They howl under moonlight and exist in perpetuity, as hours pass into days, and days into decades. And immortality breeds patience.
Our time will come.
We will rise.
Fear the day.



© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved



Wednesday, 3 February 2016

Drabble Wednesday: Innocence Lost

Today’s Drabble Wednesday belongs to the fragility of innocence, its trials and its tragedy…



Homecoming

She stood in the shadow of a dying tree.
The same tree she used to climb, the tree she raced around with her friends, where she picked ripe fruit not that many years past. She looked up and sighed.
No, not that many years, but it feels as if the world has spun a hundred lifetimes since. I have the memories, but my joy cracked and scattered across time. Leaving me hollow.
Then she stared at her village, anger rising. “You abandoned me. Sacrificed me. But I survived.”
She moved forward, smiling, returning home.
And blight and death followed her.

~*~



Wisdom

Venerable.
That is what they call me. At least to my face. I hear whispers of other names: doddering, feeble, senile, worn-out clod. They see only age and assume I’m hard of hearing. More the fool them, I think.
I stare sometimes at their young faces, so eager, so arrogant, all hoping to be the next Empire Mage. Half will leave after second level training and end conjuring spells for a village. Some will make it to the higher levels, to serve in a noble house.
Only a few will rise to face me, to try and take my place.

~*~



Alone

The forest is so dark, and I don’t know the way back. I fled my home because some bad men came. They attacked us, but I ran and ran, right into this forest. That’s how I got lost. I was scared and I ran.
Now I just want Mama.
She told me to run. Maybe I should’ve stayed. Maybe I should’ve helped her and Papa fight the bad men. I don’t know what happened to them. I’m cold and hungry. I want to see Mama and Papa.
Why did the bad men come?
Why do the humans hate dragons so?



© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved




Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Drabble Wednesday: Myth

Today on Drabble Wednesday, we journey past reality into the world of myth…




Fate

I weave with thread as brittle as the worst spurned heart, across the pale puffed clouds and shimmering stars. I craft names and heartbreak, death and carefree laughter.
I contrast spring among the bleakest nights, when voices murmur with unspeakable refrain, and hope burns to ash and smoke. I entwine the heavens, scattering radiant pinpricks that make the black skies dance, though their light be old and lost.
I cast the glow into their eyes, lace their blood with fire, their minds with thought. I walk the shadows and through the mists, past time and construct.
I weave the world.

~*~





Fear the Skies

On the longest winter night, when the chill wind slithers through the cracks and past your bones, I will warm you. On the beating heartbeat of outstretched wings, from the snow locked mountains, I come. I will fire the skies and burn the night. I will rain spark and fury, flame and ash.
I will be a ghost, a dreaded whisper, a story to frighten your children. A warning you will not heed. They never heed. But you will scream. Scream and flee, a game of chase with ferocity, and my blazing destruction.
And you will shout my name.
Dragon.

~*~




Harbinger

Grey light and wafting mist settled over moor and peat, across verdant grass and gnarled trees. Sunshine traced its farewell to the dappled blue firmament, and melted into the tangerine cerise embrace of the gloaming.
In a breath of moulded air, shrouded in tattered, forgotten scent born of inevitable end, a presence stirs. An entity, a purpose birthed from mortality and tied to name and heritage. The ether quivered, the moon hid its eyes, and the earth itself held still.
Waiting.
She lifted her head, and silver eyes beheld the world once more. She inhaled… and then the banshee screamed.    




© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved


Wednesday, 25 November 2015

Drabble Wednesday: Quests

Today on Drabble Wednesday we go questing with warriors, peasants and kings…




The Eye of Blood

The messenger died at the feet of his king.
King Andras tossed his bloodied dagger on top of his latest victim.
From a limp hand of the dead, the king retrieved a wooden box, the prize that cost the messenger his life. Inside lay treasure, a dream that set his kingdom to fire and ruin.
The Eye of the Gods. The Bloodstone.
Power.
The king lifted the lid. A large scarlet gemstone nestled within, resting on black velvet.
“Mine, you are mine.” He closed his fist around the stone. And screamed.
The body of the king fell beside his messenger.

~*~




Fabled Journey

Warriors never die easy.
A saying he should have remembered five days ago, and stayed home, safe in his bed. Glory, honour and fabled riches weren’t worth slogging through a swamp on a daft quest. Nor ease tired joints after being chased by a ballycoot wraith through the Forest of Shadows. And they sure as spit weren’t worth dying at the hands of a dragon.
“What are you waiting for? Slay the beast.” The frantic shout came from inside the cave, from his companions.
“No.” With a whisper, he turned around and headed home.
This warrior would die another day.

~*~ 




Be Careful What You Wish…

All Evan dreamed came true, one rainy afternoon.
The day the warriors rode into town, looking to recruit men to join their ranks. To serve the Baron. They promised camaraderie, adventure, a better life. Evan swallowed the stories whole, but it wouldn’t have mattered what they said, for they promised a life away from the pokey village he called home. Away from his dreary future as a sheep farmer.
Funny how that was, how he longed to leave. Now two years in, two long years riding hard, fighting ogres, dragons, and everything in-between, all he dreamed was to go home.



© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 

Wednesday, 18 March 2015

Drabble Wednesday: Dragons

Today on Drabble Wednesday, we take to the sky on leathery wings and breathing fire…





Hatchling

She is puny thing, a half-formed creature like me. I can read it in her thoughts. A child? Yes, that’s the right word. Why is she here? I should claw her eyes out, scratch off her face, fly away.
But she likes me. I can feel it. And I—I don’t know what I feel. I like the way she cradles me, tenderly cupping the remains of my egg where I sit, and strokes my nose. I like the way she calls me dragon, and calls me hers.
I flap my wings, and puff smoke. She laughs. I will stay.


Star Sky

The beasts rests on the hill, a shadow silhouette against the moonlight. He stares into the ebon hued night sky, watching the heavens. His eyes drink deep of the spectacle, the flickering points of light dotting the firmament, those faraway celestial stars. He wonders, of their beauty, of what lies beyond their radiance. Sitting on a grassy knoll, he contemplates his existence.
He stretches his leathery wings, testing muscle and sinew, and lashes his tail, tracking furrows in the grass and earth. He leaps, sails on wings, air currents bearing him aloft.
Tonight, the dragon will soar among the starlight.


Retribution

A vast shadow shrouded the charred landscape, cast by the combative, incensed dragon circling the sky above. The beast paused in its fiery siege of the village, the thrum of its wings beating time until its next assault.
Below, structures blazed and the nearby forest burned. Some villagers fled to woods for safety, only to find the trees aflame and their death trap. Other poor souls still survived, huddled in the cellar of their ruined church, trapped beneath fallen rubble and smouldering remains. Their priest prayed for salvation, but his heart knew they should never have destroyed those dragon eggs.


Saturday, 21 February 2015

Book Spotlight: The Court of Stars

Today we're venturing into strange worlds with the spotlight on a debut sci-fi novel, The Court of Stars by Malcolm Schmitz. The book is the first in the planned Commonwealth Quartet series, so read on and enjoy...


The Court of Stars by Malcolm Schmitz

The universe is bigger and stranger than Christian Arundel could ever have imagined- and right now, almost everything in it is trying to kill him.

On the eve of Christian's betrothal to a woman he doesn't love, the castle where he lives is attacked by a force of demons from the sky. When he tries to fight against them, he's taken prisoner. One of their other prisoners, a sarcastic miniature dragon named Miriet, agrees to help him escape.

Christian must learn how to use the demons' weapons to escape their clutches, but that's only the beginning. To rescue the people he loves, he must cross half the world and return to the invaders' ship.


You can find The Court of Stars on Amazon
And check out the Kickstarter campaign for the book and proposed series



Author Bio:

Malcolm Schmitz was born in a small-town hospital in Ohio, where the doctors said he was a girl. Shortly after that, a doctor said that he was autistic. Only one of those things proved to be true.

He currently lives in the American Midwest, where he writes books full of aliens, dragons, and gay people. The Court of Stars is his first novel.


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