Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Cal Endria's Journal: 11th November, 4169

I've done it! Oh how sweet success, and how near to disaster I came! But wait. Let me gain control of my emotions, for I can hardly contain myself. I shall start at the beginning in order to accurately chronicle the course of events.

This morning I met with Sharky. I almost made some excuse and took my leave, as he was in a foul temper. However, I reminded myself that he is always in a foul temper and that faint heart never gained anything, so I cleared my throat and put forth my proposal.

I proposed that Sharky let myself and 48 lads and our families out of our compact to set up a homestead on the land we discovered less than a week ago. In exchange for this, I told him that we would pay a tariff of half of everything produced by our settlement for the next 100 years.

I barely had time to make this proposal when Sharky rose up, trembling with rage and made as if to strike me. I thought that I had reached my end, but he regained control of himself.

I could see his mind working. Then he said, "Endria, I've no use for lily-livered cowards in me crew. I'd as soon kill the lot o' ye, but if ye can carve a civilization out o' that jungle an' provide me with the fruits of yer labor, then I thinks we has a bargain."

With that, we spat in our hands and shook on the bargain. Sharky has agreed to provide us with one of the ships in his fleet, the Rusty Scupper. She is the least seaworthy ship in the fleet and not much of a vessel, but she should get us back to the mainland. 

I immediately went to relay the happy news to my mates, who rejoiced that I had not been killed. Sharky has given us until nightfall to be gone from the fleet, so I must go and coordinate the removal of the families and their possessions to the Scupper. I shall relate our progress in my next entry.

This result has been better than I dared hope. Now we can truly look forward to the promise of a brighter future!

Sunday, February 9, 2025

Tales of the Dragon Islands: Prologue v. 2

 Hi all. Happy Super Sunday! Yes, the Super Bowl is today. It doesn't mean too much to me as my Dolphins are once again nowhere near being in the game. Still, it's fun to get together with friends, or family, or both, and have some food, watch the game and the commercials, and do other things during the halftime show.

This weekend, I have been doing some refurbishment of Tales of the Dragon Islands. I had rewritten a large bit of chapter 4 and deleted a chapter and a half of material once I realized I was headed in the wrong direction. That caused me to turn a critical eye to another part of the book that I was a little dissatisfied with--the prologue. So, I've rewritten it. I had posted the original here. You can check that out if you like before reading the updated version below. Let me know your thoughts in the comments section.


Prologue
Autumn, 785 Year of the Dragon (YOD)
Jongchin, northern coast
 
    Eleven year old Benchu and his father, Jenchu left their small sod farmhouse early in the morning. They were going out to seed their freeholding. His father had tilled their two fields yesterday, and today Benchu had been asked to help with the planting. His father had never asked him to help with such an important task. He looked out on the bleak windswept landscape. An early spring breeze sent a chill through him.
    This would be the first year his father would trust him to distribute the precious seeds. He felt the weight of them in the leather bag at his side. The strap holding it dug slightly into his shoulder.
Something to the north caught his attention. A black plume was rising from the direction of the nearby coast.
    “Smoke!” he yelled, pointing.
    “Raiders!” his father exclaimed. “Benchu, find your mother and get her to the caves!”
    “What about you?” Benchu asked.
    “I must join with our neighbors to fend them off.”
    Jenchu went into the house and came out with his hunting bow. “Find your mother. She was down by the creek washing clothes with the other women. Get them all to the caves!”

    As he spoke, men from the village and neighboring farms appeared, heading toward the coast. They carried a ragtag collection of weapons and tools--bows, scythes, some swords. When they saw Jenchu, they all converged on the farm. He was a village councilor. It was up to him to plan a defense.
    “The coast is under attack,” he said. “It’s a good bet it’s raiders from the Northland. We have to go and meet them before they push further inland. Are you with me?”
    The gathered crowd nodded. A few cheered.
    “All right, then let’s go. Benchu, you go and alert the women like I told you.”
    Benchu nodded, and headed up the ridge toward the valley and the creek. He had almost reached the crest when he heard shouts.
    Turning back, he saw a horde of men coming up from the coast. They were dressed in leather and fur. They wore steel banded helmets with a large metal spike at the top. All carried two-handed axes.
He stood there watching, unable to tear himself away. As the villagers charged to meet the raiders, he saw his father shooting arrows, felling several northmen. He felt a momentary flush of pride.
    Then, a shadow rose from the smoke on the horizon. It moved swiftly toward them. The rising sun glinted on silver.
    Benchu gasped. “The Silver Dragon,” he whispered.
    It was the Silver Dragon of the North. Flying swiftly from the coast, it circled the battle once. Even from this distance Benchu was awestruck by the size of the great beast. The sun glinted off its silver scales. Great silver wings cast a shadow on the ground. Its sapphire eyes held a terrible hatred. The mouth was huge. It held large, curved yellow fangs and a ruby red forked tongue.

Friday, January 31, 2025

A Writer's Week #137: Winter Freeze

 Hi all! This month has been a frigid one in my neck of the woods. Temperatures have dipped down into the single digits in January. Once week, there were a couple subzero mornings. Brrrrrr. Not only that, but there was also very little snow. I always feel that if you're going to be frozen, you should have snow to enjoy. Oh well. That might just be me.

My book sales reflected the weather--frozen. There has not been much happening on the sales front in January. That is not entirely unusual, but it would be nice to get a few sales to--break the ice so to speak.

That does not mean that I have been idle. I am still in the process of identifying a social media marketing partner. After some thinking and conversations with some of the marketers I've been interviewing, I think that it would be more feasible to focus on the middle grade market. In other words, I'm going to "stay in my lane". At least for now.

With that in mind, I'll be focusing most of my attention on this blog and my Deliverers Series Facebook page rather than my GSSlombaAuthor blog. As the Owl Flies is more of a one-off work. It has a different niche market that those that are interested can check out. It's not my bread and butter, however. I have also suspended work (for now) on Quirk, my first-person YA fantasy novel. I'll probably continue it someday, but right now the plot is still a little nebulous. It needs to marinate a bit.

Once I made that determination, I began to focus on middle grade fantasy again. First up is Tales of the Dragon Islands. The book is based on the world featured in book three of the Deliverers Series, The Golden Dragon of Ang. as it stands now, I'm not sure if it will be a standalone novel or the first in a series. For now, I'm going to focus on getting the first one written.

This week, I wrote almost 1,000 words of it. That means that right now, it's about 25 pages and 4,250 words long--far from finished, but humming along. I hope to get more written this weekend. as usual, I'll keep you up to date on things as they develop.

Peace


Thursday, January 16, 2025

Tales of the Dragon Islands:

Here's the first chapter of my WIP, Tales of the Dragon Islands. Let me know what you think. 

Chapter 1

    Moonlight glinted off the slate tiles of the rooftops of the city. A lone figure, shrouded in black crouched low on one of them, surveying the array of buildings that stretched downhill toward the water. A slight breeze wafted up from the harbor, carrying with it the scent
of the sea.

     The figure sniffed the air and gestured slightly. From out of the shadow of a chimney, another shrouded figure joined the first on the ridgeline of the roof. It also sniffed the air, then pulled the mask down from its face.

    Giving a slight smile, it whispered, “Something’s afoot down by the harbor. What is it, Ben?”

    The other figure shook its head and held a finger to its masked face.

     “Oh come on, who’s going to hear us up here? There’s no one here but us.”

     “You there!” a voice cried out. “What are you doing up here?”

      Four figures in polished leather jerkins and gleaming spiked helmets clambered over the rooftops toward them.

    “The Night Watch,” the one called Ben hissed. “Move!”

    Together the two black figures glided away. Smaller and more agile than their pursuers, they moved with cat-like quickness, leaping from roof to roof. In seconds, they had left them far behind.  Moving to the edge of a roof, they slid down the drainpipe to an alley off a little used side street.

      Before they could congratulate themselves on their escape, strong hands grabbed them and locked them in a strong embrace.

      A bearded guard looked them over with a smirk. “Gotcha. What was ya doin’ up on the rooftops. Don’t seem like a fit place fer kids t’ be in the middle of the night.” With a swift tug, he removed one mask, then the other, revealing the faces of a girl and boy.

      “Aha, thought so. What might two orphans be doin’ leapin’ about on the rooftops?”

     “Why don’t you get stuffed, Sharfo?” the boy replied. “Don’t you have more important things to do than go chasing after a couple of kids?”

     The big man laughed. “I might, Benchu. However, Madame Fru sent me to find you. You are not supposed to be out so late. She is afraid for you and Mailynn. She says there is something in the air.”

    Benchu waived his hand dismissively. “Aw, what does she know? She’s always getting ‘feelings’. It’s nothing.”

    Sharfo pursed his lips. “Hmmm. That may be, but I have learned to pay more credence to those feelings than you. Youth is ever quick to scoff at the old, but in the end, they learn. Experience is a stern teacher.”

    He and two members of the Watch escorted the two children through the darkened streets. All the while, Benchu chafed, wanting to head the way they had come, back toward the harbor. Instead, they were marched uphill, deeper into the heart of Dragon Home.

    Turning down a side street they arrived in front of a large building. Its façade was somewhat worn and rundown, but not as much as the buildings closer to the harbor. The biting ocean breezes did not reach so far inland. A wide stone staircase led up to a covered portico that spanned the entire front of the building. It must have been grand once, but now it looked shabby and worn down.

   Standing at the top of the stairs was a stern looking old woman. Her black hair was streaked with gray and drawn back in a bun. She wore a scarlet silk robe, embroidered with gold thread. Piercing black eyes bored into Ben and Mailynn as they walked up the stairs. She stood straight and stiff, displaying no need for the polished bamboo cane she held in her left hand. As the children approached, heads bowed, her wrinkled face showed no emotion.

       “Thank you, for bringing my little birds home, Captain Sharfu,” her voice creaked, “Again.”

    The captain bowed low. “It is my honor, Madame, although I must admit that it is becoming a bit tedious.”

   “I understand, Captain, and I am sorry. When birds fly, sometimes their wings must be clipped.” The old woman sighed and turned to the children. “But I have been hesitating to do so with these two. I had hoped they would learn some restraint.”

                Captain Sharfu snorted. “Perhaps, you should move them to a stronger cage.”

                Madame Fru sighed and shook her head. “Ah well, children are not birds after all. They will follow their own path. These two will ever strive to fly, even though logic says they cannot.

“I have taken you and your men away from your duties enough for one night. Thank you again, Captain.”

Captain Sharfo bowed again. “Safeguarding children is part of our duty, Madame Fru. Once the sun sets, all citizens of Dragon Home are the responsibility of the Night Watch--even two young fledglings such as these. I am only thankful that the rest of your orphans are not as determined to fly the coop.”

He and his men bowed once more and headed back down the street. Ben watched as they were swallowed by the darkness.

                He turned. Madame Fru studied them with an icy stare. “Come, youngsters. We must talk.”