tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-340745432024-03-13T20:49:18.640-07:00Illuminating the Word Through FictionKacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-64644519193455839852022-04-12T11:49:00.001-07:002022-04-12T11:49:19.736-07:00Now in Paperback! FORETOLD (Legends of the Forsaken Empire #4)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyIdzAW83kGUBaCmy58tkyFMnqeN7jaJLSl5AwB2AARozbxx6ZCL1G4btwqWkpX64e69c8NWonIYJQ7g8CPOvGyG54cx_KQRdTQ2w3t_qOJBw0J5HutT5WoF5yNvgAEDQc4qcxNREINvoo9gapAZgN4h8VUgsZF7-e_XZt3Cvr7lx2Jgbfi4/s919/ForetoldFrontCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="627" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyIdzAW83kGUBaCmy58tkyFMnqeN7jaJLSl5AwB2AARozbxx6ZCL1G4btwqWkpX64e69c8NWonIYJQ7g8CPOvGyG54cx_KQRdTQ2w3t_qOJBw0J5HutT5WoF5yNvgAEDQc4qcxNREINvoo9gapAZgN4h8VUgsZF7-e_XZt3Cvr7lx2Jgbfi4/w299-h438/ForetoldFrontCover.jpg" width="299" /></a></div>FORETOLD has been released in paperback! This series was hit with more delays than any I (R.J/Kacy) have ever experienced. Some pandemic-related, others due to my tumultuous work schedule, and at least five times by health struggles--my own and others'. Thank the Lord this series is finally complete~~celebrating!<p></p><p>While I'm delighted to wind up the series with FORETOLD, which is my largest-ever published book, I'm sad to bid farewell to the characters. We've been through so much together. </p><p>What's next? I'm beginning research on a new volume in the Genesis Trilogy--a companion story that has haunted me (Kacy Barnett-Gramckow) for years. It's every bit as daunting as the original three volumes, but just as exciting, and I can't wait to dig in! </p><p>Wish me blessings!</p><p>Praying for you all, </p><p>R. J. Larson/Kacy Barnett-Gramckow</p><p>Foretold is now available at <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/foretold-r-j-larson/1141303727?ean=9798201459215" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a>, <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/B09WTT7GB1/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, Kobo, Apple, and other online retailers. </p>RJLarsonbookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11437231699242557258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-3320015630816618752022-03-25T21:25:00.003-07:002022-03-25T21:26:50.213-07:00Coming soon! Legends of the Forsaken Empire: FORETOLDIt's been a long, LONG road, rolling volume three (Volume four if you include the prequel, Realm of Thorns) of the Forsaken Empire series to publication, but we've almost brought this big baby home!<div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXWxUFVxgYAUs4WEvmf6SestzWqjlJSTs-7I50zakQScVCWFJBa8PfyEIrUGhaBs3u9haKY2hMRPOZDhISfA6tiymappzr7kZT5rJS42KK-FNAaw79bzGNaW2OhHnbZOMXyWldgsyGQf75bV-vMjaEE8ub-kLaI9hftBX8g-QhoZ0JpLuprYw/s919/ForetoldFrontCover.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="627" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXWxUFVxgYAUs4WEvmf6SestzWqjlJSTs-7I50zakQScVCWFJBa8PfyEIrUGhaBs3u9haKY2hMRPOZDhISfA6tiymappzr7kZT5rJS42KK-FNAaw79bzGNaW2OhHnbZOMXyWldgsyGQf75bV-vMjaEE8ub-kLaI9hftBX8g-QhoZ0JpLuprYw/w218-h320/ForetoldFrontCover.png" width="218" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FORETOLD, Spring 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>Through the usual full-time job schedule's hectic pace, two bouts of COVID, one concussion, and some discouraging setbacks that carved away huge chunks of writing time during these past two years, I'm able to catch a breath of relief. FORETOLD is in the final stages of publication! Thank the Lord! (Exhale.) It's been humbling to research the struggles of medieval believers, recorded by chroniclers, who fought for the right to possess and study the Scriptures--a right we've often take for-granted in modern times. Another topic for a future post!</div><div><br /></div><div>FORETOLD is the final, and largest book in the Legends of the Forsaken Empire series--the largest, because I didn't want to write two smaller books to finish this series. Though I tried to trim and write sparingly, I couldn't whittle Tarian Savtroi's story lower than approximately 164,000 words. By contrast, FOREFEITED and FORSWORN each finished slightly below 120,000 words, which is usually my goal for historical novels. If you're a reader who delights in swift reads that you can polish off in a few hours ... forgive me. But for those of you who love huge, epic, fantasy-realm family sagas inspired by actual history, I pray you enjoy Tarian's story as much as I did while researching and writing it for him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Love and blessings, and thank you for your patience and encouragement, </div><div><br /></div><div>Kacy Barnett-Gramckow, writing as R. J. Larson.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>RJLarsonbookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11437231699242557258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-7972558128390224202020-12-03T09:07:00.002-08:002020-12-03T09:07:43.086-08:00At last! FORSWORN<p>At last, FORSWORN--the second full book in my new fantasy series--has hit the shelves. Again, Julaiin and her family are struggling to protect their family's most cherished secret, while her enemies, mortal and immortal, are hunting her down to permanently end her rebellion. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-70Y1KCK_-Ts/X8kXMvBWp2I/AAAAAAAAAms/LkWpi8Fh5-024umiFqXO0OgcNpGXbvzoACPcBGAYYCw/s982/ForswornCoverDETAIL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="982" data-original-width="686" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-70Y1KCK_-Ts/X8kXMvBWp2I/AAAAAAAAAms/LkWpi8Fh5-024umiFqXO0OgcNpGXbvzoACPcBGAYYCw/s320/ForswornCoverDETAIL.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>But Julaiin, her family, and friends are feverishly praying and implementing a plan to destroy their enemies' control over all the souls the Eternal holds dear. To remove the false pedestals from beneath those who hold the faithful captive for power's sake.</p><p>Inspired by actual accounts of medieval scholars, FORSWORN is a family saga of faith, and devotion--even when all worthy causes seem lost. </p><p>Thank you, dear everyone, for waiting so patiently as this series makes its way to retailers. </p><p>Blessings, </p><p>R. J. Larson</p><p><br /></p>RJLarsonbookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11437231699242557258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-34321857705334180312020-07-30T10:04:00.003-07:002020-10-13T12:04:52.205-07:00Bring on the Fall Giveaway: FORFEITED<div><span face="Raleway, arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-size: 16px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0M-n6_1crNY/W_yYJB5Yx2I/AAAAAAAAAc0/Fv-Bj6sWP9gO2TwsG6VtU7GeIq_AltWpQCPcBGAYYCw/s958/LEGENDSforfeitedFrontCover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0M-n6_1crNY/W_yYJB5Yx2I/AAAAAAAAAc0/Fv-Bj6sWP9gO2TwsG6VtU7GeIq_AltWpQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/LEGENDSforfeitedFrontCover.jpg" /></a></div></span></div><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;">While censorship is comparatively new to the modern-era faithful, history reveals that the battle to control and suppress the Scriptures has been raging for millennia. </span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;">Set in a fantasy realm, FORFEITED takes readers into the heart of one family's continuous struggle for freedom to read their sacred Scriptures.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><em class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-o c2-3l c2-3m c2-3" style="box-sizing: inherit; color: inherit; font-size: inherit; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><br /></span></em></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><em class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-o c2-3l c2-3m c2-3" style="box-sizing: inherit; color: inherit; font-size: inherit; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><br /></span></em></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><em class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-o c2-3l c2-3m c2-3" style="box-sizing: inherit; color: inherit; font-size: inherit; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;">"</span><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;">Legendary creatures have emerged from ancient realms to stalk mortals. Words, long forgotten, are spoken for the first time in a thousand years, and the soul of an ancient forsaken empire is stirring to life. One family has been entrusted with a treasure that endangers all who possess and understand its mysteries—no one is safe.</span></em></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;">More than a thousand years after the fall of the Syvlande Empire, a humble cleric, Brother Davin has escaped his order with a forbidden book—the ancient Rone’en. As Davin translates the sacred texts, terrifying truths emerge, defying the realm’s spiritual stranglehold over its faithful. The lives of all who accept the Rone’en’s sacred words are forfeited—including Davin’s cherished pupil, Julaiin Valo-Treor."</span></span></p><p></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span class="x-el x-el-span c2-9 c2-a c2-3j c2-s c2-3k c2-3l c2-3" color="inherit" style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; letter-spacing: inherit; line-height: inherit; text-transform: inherit;">Dear readers, thank you for all your encouragement and support while I've written this series. I hope you enjoy the story of Julaiin's family!</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><b>Are you following the giveaway? </b></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: raleway, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px;"><b>Here's a link below!</b></p><div><span class="gmail_default" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;">Fall is officially here! The leaves are turning, the weather is cooling, and it is time to curl up with a book! </span></span></div><div><span class="gmail_default" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="gmail_default" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;">We want you to have a chance to win 40 of books or a $350 Amazon card to buy a ton of books yourself in the Celebrate Lit Bring on the Fall Multi-Author Giveaway!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;"><br clear="none" /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;">Click here to ente<span class="gmail_default" style="font-size: small;">r: <a href="https://promosimple.com/ps/1004c/bring-on-the-fall-giveaway" target="_blank">https://promosimple.com/ps/1004c/bring-on-the-fall-giveaway</a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;"><br clear="none" /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;">The event and giveaway is going on now through <span class="gmail_default" style="font-size: small;">October 18!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: comic sans ms, sans-serif;"><span class="gmail_default" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-8974778926405618092020-07-05T10:34:00.001-07:002020-07-05T11:18:06.997-07:00Waiting and ... Each month this year, I've held off writing a blog post, thinking that SOON, any day, I'd receive word that the next book in the Legends of the Forsaken Empire series will hit the shelves--virtual and otherwise. Unfortunately, the unspecified technical glitch that's hindering the publishing process continues.<br />
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So I wait.<br />
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Am I going nuts? Yes. And no.<br />
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Yes, because I feel as if I'm losing my writing momentum. This more-than-a-year-long wait has dragged at my creative flow like a wet blanket in a humid climate, smothering all initiative and sense of purpose. I didn't realize I'd become so dependent upon the completed cycle of publishing. Yet I am.<br />
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And no, because it's been a learning experience. A time to remind myself of discipline, study, and vigilance. Discipline to write during all available hours. Study, intentional study, to keep my sense of wonder and curiosity fresh. Vigilance to remain focused in faith and life. Waiting works too, with purpose. Prayer. And gratitude.<br />
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I'm grateful to you all for being there. For encouraging notes I've received. Thank you, dear everyone, and remain safe. I'm praying for you as well during this long, unwantedly eventful, memorable year. Despite everything I could say about this wait and this year, the Lord is GOOD. Always. More news SOON!<br />
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<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-60768950958030040792020-03-30T14:23:00.000-07:002020-07-05T09:27:31.783-07:00DAWNLIGHT: just in time for Easter Reading!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Interested? </h3>
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DAWNLIGHT</h2>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Copyright 2014 by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Researched and written by Kacy
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Editors: Kathi Macias, Jerry Gramckow</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">All rights reserved in all media. Without limiting
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be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted
in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording,
or otherwise) without prior written permission.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the
author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">While every effort has been made to ensure
the accuracy and legitimacy of the references, referrals, and links
(collectively “links”) presented in this e-book, Kacy Barnett-Gramckow is not
responsible or liable for broken links or missing or fallacious information at
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Cover design by:
Kacy Barnett-Gramckow</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Image cover: </span><a href="https://www.shutterstock.com/g/ekaterinashamrai"><span style="color: #249cc9; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Ekaterina Shamrai</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">, Shutterstock</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Scriptures referenced in this book are paraphrased, with the original
Hebrew and Greek<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>meanings<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>scrupulously heeded.<i></i></span></div>
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</i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">To my brother Joseph, this book’s
instigator, who has the most wonderful laugh in the whole world.</span></em> </div>
<br />
<h1>
Chapter 1</h1>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "copperplate gothic light" , sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Awareness
returned t</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">o John with an
unexpected sense of calm. Eyes still closed, remembering his previous agony, he
touched his throat, testing with his fingertips for a wound. No. No blood. No
pain. But he found a scar and traced its subtle ridge…slowly encircling his
neck. How could it have healed so quickly? How could it heal at all? </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Opening his eyes, John found himself in a limitless space of grayed
hush. Others were here. He sensed them nearby. One presence in
particular—perfect and all-encompassing—permeated this place, lulling John with
a peace surpassing any he had ever known. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">You are here,</span></em><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> he thought to the Spirit<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">. And I am not where I was.</span></em>
Again, he touched his throat, still amazed to find it restored<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">. I am not what I was….</span></em></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Memories of the past intruded now, shaking his tranquility. Fears and
inadequacies gnawed hard and he cried to the Spirit in anguish<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">. I have failed</span></em><i>!</i></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The Spirit answered in calm, wordless clarity. <em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">You did not fail.</span></em></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">But my work is incomplete.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">You will complete your work when His time
is completed. Until then, rest.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Obedient to the Holy One, John settled into the hush and awaited his
liberation, at rest with the righteous souls brought to this place before him. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And with those yet to appear. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">A joyous calm slipped over him as the Spirit promised, <em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">Your Redeemer nears! </span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">***</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Joseph understood what had happened.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He was in a place that wasn’t supposed to exist: Sheol.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">I’m alive! My soul lives! I’m here…</span></em><i>.</i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> His elation faded as he remembered his
vulnerable young family. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could he
protect them from this distant place? From beyond time?</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">In despair, he appealed to the shaded hues of quiet surrounding him.
The Lord’s Spirit was near. Joseph felt the blessed presence and pleaded with
all his soul’s might, <em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">They need
me!</span></em></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The Spirit answered his soul in reassurance, with a promise. <em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">They are remembered. Rest and wait. He is
near.</span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">***</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Restless, the Adversary traced the fringes of the place he could not
enter, not permitted because of <em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">It</span></em>. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">Loathsome Spirit</span></em><i>.</i></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And pacing from here to stars in protest would avail nothing. Nor would
an audience before the throne of </span>Almighty Him<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">, arguing legalities that should be considered. “The earth is mine—it
was given to me. This place is also within my realm.”</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Yet the </span>Almighty <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">sheltered
these souls within this place…these pathetic beings, no less contemptible now
that they were freed from their dust-formed flesh. Why did </span>He<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> protect them so avidly—as if they were
treasure?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The Adversary continued his zealous watch, peering inside, longing to
grasp those protected souls and confront them with all their wrongs, to prove
their unworthiness of the </span>Almighty’s<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> regard.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">But they had somehow escaped him. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He must therefore exploit other options.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Anticipating further maneuvers, he departed, calling his shadow-silent
followers to ensnare those yet-walking, still-breathing souls bound by flesh
and time.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 107%; margin-bottom: 8.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<h1>
Chapter 2 </h1>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "copperplate gothic light" , sans-serif;">Jerusalem’s
House of</span> the Lord dazzled in the late winter sunlight like a bride in
purest white, its pristine marble crowned with gold, its whole presence
perfumed with incense that beckoned those who loved her.<br />
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Feeling like a bride
herself, Elisheba climbed the crowded southern stairs to the Lord’s House,
varying her pace to match the differing treads of each stone step. How
difficult it was to conceal her eagerness when each step took her nearer to her
love, her husband, Joseph.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">And to You</span></em><i>,</i> she told the
Lord, sensing His presence, delighting in His Spirit.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
A small body collided
against Elisheba’s legs, catching at her blue tunic and veils, almost making
her trip. Her four-year-old, Benjamin, righted himself, staring at the Roman
soldiers who lingered near the steps, all conspicuous in crimson cloaks, their
helmets, weapons, and shields glinting in the sun. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Watch where you’re
going,” she scolded softly, taking her son’s hand. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I am.” But the little
boy continued to stare at the soldiers, his brown eyes wide. Clearly their
weapons fascinated him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Really!” Elisheba began
in pretend complaint. Glancing beyond the edges of her sheer blue veils and
head-covering, she stopped suddenly, realizing the soldiers were watching
them—watching everyone—hard-eyed, as if prepared to attack anyone who caused a
scene.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
She tightened her hold on
Benjamin’s hand. Should she should turn around and take him home? Her servants
still waited in the huge public courtyard before the steps, guarding her small
blue-curtained litter. They could leave almost immediately. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">But what if Joseph was in danger?</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elisheba’s stomach
clenched at the thought. Trying to reassure herself, she prayed beneath her
breath<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">, “Please shield us, Almighty
Lord.”</span> She urged Benjamin up the myriad steps, moving quietly amid the
other visitors and worshipers past the temple’s usual Levite guards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
By the time she and
Benjamin made their way through the huge, double-arched doorways and tunnel and
then entered the vast sunlit stone-paved Court of the Gentiles, Elisheba was
sweating despite the cold air. People were gathered here and there throughout
the pale marble court: bright-clad Greek-Jews and Persian-Jews, boisterous
merchants and herders with their animals, somberly robed Pharisees, and
aristocratic Sadducees. Some smiling, many grim, all gossiping as Elisheba
walked among them.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Threads of conversation
reached her in snatches of Aramaic and Greek. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“They beheaded the
Baptist in his cell.”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“… the Immerser-Prophet,
John, for a dance—a <em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">girl’s</span></em>
dance!”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“He spoke against the
Lady Herodias,” a dark-clad scribe sniffed, gaining Elisheba’s attention with
his contempt. “The man was a fool if he thought they would tolerate his
outbursts. Prophet, indeed!”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The prophet was dead? </span>Elisheba faltered, her steps slowing with
her stumbling thoughts. How could this be true? Only ten months past, she and
Joseph had listened to John the Immerser proclaiming the truth of their
Almighty Lord with such an unquenchable passion that their lives—their
souls—were forever changed. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">How could
he be gone?</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Swallowing, she crushed
her impulse to cry. What would onlookers think? If Joseph’s aristocratic
father, Lord Pallu, saw her tears, he’d belittle her. Scorn her as a childish
female and send her home.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“There’s Abba!” Benjamin
announced in Aramaic, tugging against Elisheba’s grip. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elisheba looked beyond
the money-lenders’ tables and saw her own Joseph, slim and handsomely robed in
crimson, his rich dark beard neatly trimmed as many young Sadducees’
beards—much shorter than the Pharisees deemed proper for a devout Jew. Yet,
despite his worldly appearance, Joseph was truly devout. Even now, he was
talking seriously to three of his closest friends, his comrades in prayer,
Stephanos and Andronikos—who were also Jewish but Greek-born—and Kore, a young
prankster whose family had returned to Jerusalem from exile in Persia only one
generation past.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Glimpsing her husband’s
fading color, Elisheba winced. He’d obviously just heard of the Prophet John’s
death. And like her, he was fighting his distress. If Lord Pallu noticed and
suspected that they had followed the Immerser, the Baptist John, and his
Prophet-cousin, Rabbi Yeshua, <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Lord
Pallu would all but disown Joseph.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Controlling herself,
Elisheba released her son’s hand. “Go to Abba.” </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Benjamin ran happily, his
dark curls shining in the light. Her small sweet messenger, announcing her
presence to Joseph. Married or not, Elisheba couldn’t speak to her husband in
public, particularly not here. The Pharisees would take great offense at even
the appearance of impropriety between a man and a woman in the Holy Courts of
the Lord. But Benjamin could speak for her. He was also her excuse to draw
near. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Joseph and his friends
straightened, startled as Benjamin scampered into their midst. Recovering,
Joseph caught Benjamin beneath the arms and swooped him up protectively. “You
can’t stay long,” Joseph told Benjamin. He kissed his son then cast a subtle
worried glance toward Elisheba.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Slight and
scholar-gentle, Stephanos also looked concerned. And Kore, twitching with
adolescent tension, seemed ready to bolt from the Gentiles’ Court at the slightest
excuse. But Andronikos, the tallest, spoke quietly in Greek, his bronzed face
cool. “We should delay the Capernaum journey.”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I agree.” Joseph shifted
Benjamin in his arms, turning him toward Elisheba, almost making her smile in
gratitude.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
The young men resumed
their conversation as if they wanted her to hear what they were saying—and
indeed they should. They’d been planning to travel to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Capernaum</st1:place></st1:city> after celebrating Passover to hear
the Rabbi Yeshua again—<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Master Iesous</span>,
as Joseph’s friends named him in Greek. Elisheba’s spirit sank. How long would
the journey be delayed? For weeks, she’d anticipated sharing the journey with
Joseph and Benjamin as soon as the weather warmed. Indeed, her soul had thrived
on the hope, for beyond Lord Pallu’s strictures, beyond his mansion in
Jerusalem, she was free to enjoy her husband’s company.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Kore, turning paler than
Joseph, asked, “Should we go into hiding? Is Jerusalem no longer safe?” </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elisheba froze. If Herod
the Tetrarch, ruler of this particular fourth of Judea, had turned against the
Prophet John, then surely his supporters must hide in fear of losing their
lives. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
But Andronikos shook his
dark head, calming Kore. “No. We’re probably in more danger from the Romans
crushing riots than we are from Herod.”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sure you’re right,”
Joseph said. “If Herod wanted to imprison the Baptist’s followers, then he
would have done so before news of his death became known.”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Even so…” Kore’s whisper
went thin. “… what sort of girl would request a prophet’s head?”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No normal person would,”
Stephanos muttered, glancing around, clearly afraid they’d be overheard and
punished. “Someone coerced the girl.” </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Herod’s non-wife</span>, Elisheba guessed. Herodias, mother of the
errant girl, had hated the Prophet John for speaking against her publicly. <i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Even
if the prophet had simply announced what everyone thought, what everyone
whispered within these sacred courts and beyond these walls</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Giving Benjamin a hug,
Joseph set the little boy firmly on the slab paving. “You should go now.” </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
Benjamin looked hurt. But
as he opened his mouth to protest, Joseph became unusually stern. “Obey me. And
obey your Ama. Go home <em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">now</span></em>.”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Joseph was right</span>, Elisheba realized. If a rebellion developed as
this news spread through the city, then the safest place was in their own
household, away from the Roman soldiers. Clasping her unwilling son’s hand, she
gently addressed Joseph through Benjamin, as any proper wife would do when she
wanted to make her thoughts known in public. “Come, my son. I pray your father
and his friends return safely to their homes. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And soon</span>.”</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
“We should go,” Kore
urged the others as Elisheba turned away. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
She didn’t hear Stephanos
or Andronikos reply. </div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
It wasn’t until Elisheba
was outside the courts again, preparing to climb into her blue-curtained litter,
that she realized Joseph’s three friends had cautiously trailed her and
Benjamin outside, all the way down the public steps. Her silent guardians.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she glimpsed their
concern, an unaccustomed tremor passed through Elisheba, of near panic, weighted
with dread. Throughout their journey home, she prayed for the three young men
and for her husband.</div>
<div style="text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">Let Joseph be well. Lord, keep him safe!</span></em></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-44286185247993620522020-02-21T18:56:00.000-08:002020-02-21T18:56:15.307-08:00JUDGE: German Translation!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQEOh0_5maY/T15zBuqDwCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/yLAq0eyCOu0rVui61_O4gipQNMn1vCTDACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/JUDGE%2BBHP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="223" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQEOh0_5maY/T15zBuqDwCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/yLAq0eyCOu0rVui61_O4gipQNMn1vCTDACPcBGAYYCw/s320/JUDGE%2BBHP.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Books of the Infinite, Volume 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h2>
Exciting news this week!</h2>
<br />
JUDGE, book 2 in the <i>Books of the Infinite</i> series has just been signed for by <a href="https://reformazion.de/?fbclid=IwAR1mnI63zIqEKqXi6oEFTp4xw4FAqW3F-Y9EQ4kzkXYYebpbRcKX7ZOinFs" target="_blank">ReformaZion Media</a> to <br />
produce a translation in the German language! The paperback version is expected to reach shelves in October.<br />
<br />
Thank you, ReformaZion Media, and dear readers in Germany, who have requested Kien's story. I am praying you enjoy reading it as much as I (Kacy as R. J. Larson) have enjoyed writing it.<br />
<br />
<br />
Blessings, and more news soon! <br />
<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-51483505542820315092020-01-11T11:25:00.004-08:002020-10-13T12:58:39.675-07:00Looking forward to 2020<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t84VxaJv5_o/XhofSFvgqEI/AAAAAAAAAgw/XXNQqNxluBoeZP41n9hrTgaBQxUqkJ9TwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/CalligraphyPsalm19sketcha.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1600" height="194" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t84VxaJv5_o/XhofSFvgqEI/AAAAAAAAAgw/XXNQqNxluBoeZP41n9hrTgaBQxUqkJ9TwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/CalligraphyPsalm19sketcha.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A time of waiting and refreshment</td></tr>
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2019 was a year of unexpected changes for me, and for my family. Not that the changes were unwelcomed, but definitely brought joy, busy-ness, and confusion.<br />
<br />
Adding to the lovely chaos, we experienced technical issues, delaying the next book in the Forsaken Empire series, which studies the risks and promises of possessing the Scriptures.<br />
<br />
I'm looking forward to sharing more stories with you soon. SOON!!! <br />
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For the time being, I'm focused on intentional rest, refreshing my soul, and returning to writing, while praying for the Lord to steer my works' courses according to His will.<br />
<br />
Praying blessings for you in 2020!<div><br /></div><div>UPDATE 10/13/2020 </div><div>So much for optimism, yes? </div><div>Praying for you and your loved ones, dear everyone. </div><div><br />
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<br /></div>Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-90160294721073188742019-11-06T10:15:00.002-08:002019-11-07T08:18:12.753-08:00Prophet, the German Translation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PROPHET, the German translation</td></tr>
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Indulge me, please, while I celebrate.<br />
<br />Prophet has been translated into German, <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Die-Prophetin-Book-Bücher-Ewigen-ebook/dp/B07ZPFXHFS/ref=sr_1_13?qid=1573143407&refinements=p_27%3AR.J.+Larson&s=digital-text&sr=1-13&text=R.J.+Larson">Die Prophetin</a>. Special thanks to translator, Alexandra Wolf, and to the amazing team at @ReformaZion Media. This is a privilege and a blessing I never expected. Praying readers who love German enjoy Ela's story. Have fun, dear everyone!</h2>
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<b></b><span style="font-size: large;"></span><b></b><span style="font-size: large;"></span><b></b><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-6254449721263507832019-10-05T10:45:00.000-07:002019-10-05T10:49:36.640-07:00Our (or, rather, my) New Website!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rjk76NCKlBw/XZjVXSrWIOI/AAAAAAAAAgA/6yYreVjRB7ccyeGnamRB5gSEMcuIK180QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/WebsiteBOOKS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1331" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rjk76NCKlBw/XZjVXSrWIOI/AAAAAAAAAgA/6yYreVjRB7ccyeGnamRB5gSEMcuIK180QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/WebsiteBOOKS.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">R.J. and Kacy: Some of our books</td></tr>
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<h3>
At last!</h3>
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After more than a year, I've created a joint website for Kacy Barnett-Gramckow and R. J. Larson.<br />
Apologies for the delay. Throughout the past year, I debated the value of an author website, and whether I should create one for both of my writing names, or a separate site for each.<br />
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Why did I decide on a new website at all? One word: emails. Some readers strongly prefer to land on an author's website and submit genuine emails--and I (we) love receiving emails!<br />
<br />
I finally decided on a host, paid fees, transferred domains, paid for domains, jumped through hoops, paid for email addys, and possibly yelled in frustration once, then made numerous phone calls to very patient techies who ironed out wrinkles. After making all those payments for just one domain, I (we) decided that one site had to work for both genres--despite all the rumors, authors need to budget their money.<br />
<br />
Yes, the site's 'look' is more Kacy Barnett-Gramckow than R. J. Larson, but R. J. must learn to share, right?<br />
<br />
Without further ado, here's my (our) new site! <a href="https://www.gramcoink.com/" target="_blank">https://www.gramcoink.com</a><br />
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<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-85977096037652262822019-08-12T13:54:00.000-07:002019-08-12T20:33:48.924-07:00Prophet Alert!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rnKQyGnXpkQ/XVHQ6tmKf_I/AAAAAAAAAfo/U__n3tVli3crjPtrD71LrcIkwwn0AZfJQCLcBGAs/s1600/Prophet%2BQuote.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rnKQyGnXpkQ/XVHQ6tmKf_I/AAAAAAAAAfo/U__n3tVli3crjPtrD71LrcIkwwn0AZfJQCLcBGAs/s400/Prophet%2BQuote.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 18.73px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Prophet, the ebook, is on sale for .99 cents throughout August, 2019!</span></h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="220" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nDQCZkzaRgk/UCBRqDVamYI/AAAAAAAAAH0/nSZe5ScNE_wkLaqke2SP18ArcBUe4TPGgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Prophet%257E%257Eelement26.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Prophet-Books-Infinite-Book-1-ebook/dp/B0073UPQQS" target="_blank">Prophet, by R. J. Larson</a></td></tr>
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<span id="goog_352217394"></span><span id="goog_352217395"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a></div>
<h4>
<i>What is life like for a prophet? Ela Roeh is about to find out.</i></h4>
<i></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">"This tale captured me and held me hostage to the very last page. Breathlessly waiting for the next book."--Donita K. Paul, author of </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">The Dragon Keeper Chronicles</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> and </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">The Chiril Chronicles</i><br />
<i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></i>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Ela Roeh of Parne doesn't understand why her beloved Creator, the Infinite, wants her to become His prophet. She's undignified and bad-tempered, and at age seventeen she's much too young. In addition, no prophet of Parne has ever been a girl. Worst of all, as Parne's elders often warn, if she agrees to become the Infinite's prophet, Ela knows she will die young.</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Yet she can't imagine living without Him. Determined to hear the Infinite's voice, Ela accepts the sacred vinewood branch and is sent to bring the Infinite's word to a nation torn apart by war. There she meets a young ambassador determined to bring his own justice for his oppressed people. As they form an unlikely partnership, Ela battles how to balance the leading of her heart with the leading of the Infinite.</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
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Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-79477283045808866542019-05-28T11:47:00.001-07:002019-05-28T21:36:33.002-07:00Legends of the Forsaken Empire: FORFEITED<h4>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qR6YtIvVp6w/XO19ExaNXKI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/YQPbEJz2WzoxEJkzKJ0Po29Sv9T4XdYEwCEwYBhgL/s1600/LEGENDSforfeitedFrontCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><br />As the dark ages end, the spirit of an ancient forsaken empire stirs when a lost book is discovered and rescued ... at a terrible cost.</h4>
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Generations have passed after Realm of Thorns' chaos. </div>
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As the dark ages fade, an ancient book is discovered and rescued from oblivion, and the Spirit of an ancient forsaken empire stirs. </div>
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When a young scribe of the Religious is granted<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qR6YtIvVp6w/XO19ExaNXKI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/YQPbEJz2WzoxEJkzKJ0Po29Sv9T4XdYEwCEwYBhgL/s1600/LEGENDSforfeitedFrontCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qR6YtIvVp6w/XO19ExaNXKI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/YQPbEJz2WzoxEJkzKJ0Po29Sv9T4XdYEwCEwYBhgL/s400/LEGENDSforfeitedFrontCover.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="277" /></a>sanctuary by the powerful and wealthy Valo-Treour family, he brings with him the very heart of a long-forgotten faith.<br />
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But following this new faith comes with a terrible cost.<br />
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The Valo-Treours are irresistibly drawn to the book's forbidden scriptures, which threaten their rulers' claims to power.<br />
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Wealth, strength, and a long-revered name cannot save them from paying the price of their devotion.<br />
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Scroll down for sample chapter!</h4>
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Legends of the Forsaken Empire: FORFEITED, Chapter One:</h4>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Copyright
2019 by R. J. Larson</span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Researched
and written by R. J. Larson</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">All
rights reserved in all media. Without limiting the rights under the copyright
reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced
into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means
(electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior
written permission.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">For
permission requests, please contact: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/RJLarson.Writes/"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">https://www.facebook.com/RJLarson.Writes/</span></a><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Printed
in U.S.A.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are
either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">While
every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy and legitimacy of the
references, referrals, and links (collectively “links”) presented in this
e-book, R. J. Larson is not responsible or liable for broken links or missing
or fallacious information at the links. Any links in this e-book to a specific
product, process, web site, or service do not constitute or imply an
endorsement by R. J. Larson of same, or its producer or provider. The views and
opinions contained at any Links do not necessarily express or reflect those of
R. J. Larson.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cover design by: Kacy Barnett-Gramckow</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Background and images: Kacy
Barnett-Gramckow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Map icons: Kacy Barnett-Gramckow </span></div>
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</h1>
<h2 style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
Chapter 1</h2>
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<i>Ceyfraland, Autumn 1125</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "copperplate gothic light" , sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A ferocious grasp</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">
startled Brother Davin awake, even as Brother Gregaraii’s husk-dry old voice
pleaded, “Davin, help me save them!”</span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Save
who?” Davin turned over on his thin, hard pallet, peering through the darkness
of their stark, narrow, stone cell.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Brother
Gregaraii didn’t answer. At least not with words. Robes rustling, he scooted
toward the doorway, his movements insubstantial as creeping, enfeebled shadows.
Gathering his senses from sleep, Davin listened hard in the nighttime gloom. No
sounds of mortal distress proclaimed the need to save anyone this instant. Had
Gregaraii finally lost his distracted wits?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
sighed and ran one hand over his face, then sat up.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A tiny,
metallic click cut through the darkness, informing Davin that his elder had
lifted the cell door’s latch—strictly forbidden among the Religious during
their few mandated hours of sleep. Only illness or an act of the Eternal could
excuse this transgression. Yet Gregaraii had virtually ordered Davin to help
him with whatever jumbled task had overwhelmed his addled mind. How could Davin
at fifteen years, and newly ordained, argue with his revered elder? Indeed,
Gregaraii would bear any responsibility for the night’s forbidden excursion.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Though
the distraught old man might get lost in their own corridor. Davin tugged on
his thin, leather shoes, tightened his thin rope belt, then followed Gregaraii
out into the narrow, high-vaulted corridor that made echoes of the slightest
sounds.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A
young, fierce whisper beckoned from the tiny, barred window of an adjoining
cell’s door. “Davin! Where are you two going?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
halted, reining in his frustration. Trust his ever-zealous friend and fellow boyhood
pledge, Thomen, to be alert and awake tonight. Davin leaned toward Thomen’s
cell. “I don’t know. Brother Gregaraii’s in distress. Stay here. I’ll try to
guide him to the infirmary.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh.” Thomen
drew away from the tiny, barred window, clearly disinterested in Gregaraii’s plight.
But he recited by rote, “Go in peace. May Syphre guard your path.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“And
yours.” Davin quickened his pace to catch up with Gregaraii’s thin, old form—hunched
and crabbed with the rheumatism that slowed his steps—as the old man led them
outside.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
swift-setting moon threw silvering light among shadows along the flagstone
walkway, forcing Brother Davin to stare hard at the night-muted path before him—at
Brother Gregaraii’s scuffing feet and flapping black robes. Brother Gregaraii hissed
and muttered unintelligibly as he walked. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Sighing,
Davin rolled his gaze toward the chilly, star-scattered skies. Eternal, why was
he following an old man’s whims toward possible punishment?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He
ought to be asleep. His eyelids almost creaked their weariness as he opened
them wider to perceive the shadowed outlines of Gregaraii’s intended
destination, a vaulted stone archway. Irritated by Brother Gregaraii’s rasping,
indecipherable whispers, Davin groused beneath his breath, “What are you muttering?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Gregaraii
halted and leaned toward Davin, his whisper becoming almost inaudible. “Our
verses.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
muddled old book they’d been translating in the library? “Impossible.” Davin
stared into the old man’s night-dimmed face. Was Gregaraii going insane? “You’ve
said yourself that your translation must be incorrect—that I was to ignore your
keyword chart. That the verses are nothing but gibberish!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“They’re
not gibberish.” A guilty pause delayed Gregaraii’s shame-tinged explanation. “I
wanted them to be wrong. I fear I’ve understood them for the past five years.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin sought
his addled mentor’s gaze. Why would Gregaraii risk soul-crushing forfeits over
an old book? “Good sir, forgive me—you must be going mad!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“As
you ultimately will, young Davin.” Gregaraii pushed down the latch and leaned
into the door like a knight pressing against his shield as he lunged amid
battle, though he was merely entering the library’s hall.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Beneath
his breath, Davin grumbled, “If I’m following you, I’m already insane.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Gregaraii
waved him through the library’s entrance. “Obviously—by all your babbling.
Let’s hurry.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Punctuated
streams of moonlight slid through the ancient, polished-stone library, shining
against pale marble columns, dark wooden shelves, and tables boasting centuries-worth
of routine waxing and oiling. Gregaraii’s fluttering form faded in and out of
sight as he passed through successive patches of silvery moonlight, his
shambling pace carrying him inexorably toward the far door—the rare-manuscripts
collection.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Two
thin streams of light gleamed from a pair of high windows, illuminating the
old-parchment-scented room, overpowering the central night lamp’s modest glow. Gregaraii
shuffled over to a cave-like niche that sheltered his obsession, the ancient
manuscript clasped between two leather-clad wooden covers—a rarity he’d
studied, by his own count, for more than twenty years. Gregaraii hefted the massive
tome over to the nearest table and set it down gently, as if it were made of
glass. Exhaling, he tucked a clutch of folded notes inside the book’s cover,
then muttered to Davin, “I cannot do this alone. You <em>will</em> help me.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Help
you do what?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Save
this book. This evening, the abbot borrowed </span><em><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">all</span></em><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> my translations—except
for these few notes. Most likely he intends to claim glory for my life’s work. But
when he reads my translations and identifies this book and its threat to the
power of the Religious, my life will be forfeited.” Gregaraii continued,
distracted as if thinking aloud. “I’m old. I need only die. But what will they
do with you, young Davin, when they finally understand these words? When they
believe you know them because you’ve sketched and decorated the imagery I
described?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A
chill lifted all the hairs over Davin’s arms and along the fringe of his shaven
scalp. Could merely sketching, painting, and gilding the book’s imagery—the
illuminations he’d deduced from Gregaraii’s descriptions—threaten his life? “What
are you saying?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re
holding the Rone’en.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The Rone’en?
The fabled, nonexistent Sacred Word of the ancient Syvlande Empire? “You’re
certain?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes,
and I’ve repented to my very soul! Think about your work, young Davin! Consider
all those illuminations you’ve been crafting as a single work. You’re holding
the actual Rone’en! If we don’t escape, we’ll be silenced—burned with these
verses, and they </span><em><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">must</span></em><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> be saved!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He’d
be condemned for illuminating the laborious translation of an old book? And for
being randomly assigned to the cell of an addle-pated old scholar? Davin shook
his head. “Sir, granted, this might be the Rone’en, but who’d condemn us for
merely—”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">His
protest dried and died in his throat, silenced by Gregaraii’s knife-sharp glare.
The old man’s pale amber eyes glittered like molten gold amid the gloom. “Do
you know everything, young Davin? No! How easy your life is, boy, when an elder
carries your burdens!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">What
in the rotted world did the old man mean? Burdens? Who was guarding whom
tonight? And yet... Gregaraii’s glance was suddenly young. Acute and warrior
fierce. Commanding respect.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
old man shoved the heavy book at him, knocking the breath from Davin’s lungs.
“Follow me, if you wish to survive a while longer, you condemned fool of a boy!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Gregaraii
lifted the night lamp from its wrought-iron stand and tottered off to the far
corner of the rare-manuscripts room. He halted before a locked door, produced
his prized iron ring of master keys from a cord on his belt, and shook one
discolored key from the others. Fumbling at the lock, he finally worked it
open, then exhaled his relief as Davin followed him into the passage beyond. “We’ll
gain enough time to complete a translation, using my notes.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He
closed the door behind them, then turned the key in the lock, sending the
tumblers rattling through the lock’s rusty box, which was undoubtedly older
than Gregaraii. A musty stone hallway gave way to narrow, downward-winding
steps, and several more doors. As Gregaraii lifted the lamp to light their way,
Davin shivered, eyeing the lumpy, filmy shadows clinging to the grimy walls.
Was that moss? What part of the abbey was this? According to the floor plans
offered to the novices for inspection upon acceptance to the abbey, no hallways
or rooms existed on this side of the library. Only walls.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">What
else did the abbey conceal? Certainly, it concealed this hallway, and those
stone steps leading down to the narrow doorway that Gregaraii was unlocking.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Old
Gregaraii nudged Davin through the narrow doorway, onto uneven steps of
dirt-rimmed stones that merged into a clay path within a dank stonework tunnel.
As Davin blinked, willing his eyes to adjust, the old man closed the narrow
door and locked himself and Davin firmly outside. Or were they still inside or
beneath the abbey? From what he could discern within the lantern’s light, ancient
ages-worth of soil and roots had oozed and crept through the tunnel’s stonework,
with chunks of stone resting here and there along the tunnel’s dirt-strewn stone
floor. “Sir, where are we, precisely?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“In a
place that doesn’t exist.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin flinched,
avoiding a clump of roots that extended, claw-like, downward from the tunnel’s
ceiling, just skimming his razor-shorn scalp. “How did you find this place?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Young
Davin…” Clearly summoning patience, Gregaraii paused, then shifted the lamp
away from another clump of roots, “You seem to think I was never a pledge your
age, full of high spirits and inclined to adventure. My cellmate and I found
this tunnel long ago, before locks were placed on these lower doors. We came
down here a few times, searching for <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">gauatchen.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The legendary nighthound of Vrydn Abbey? Davin
suppressed a snort. He might be young, but at least he’d never wasted time
searching for a freakish ghostly hound imagined by some long-buried monk who’d
probably intended to merely frighten gullible novices. “Obviously you didn’t
find the nighthound.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“A time or two we thought we’d heard him,”
Gregaraii mused. “We were probably listening to our own footsteps echoing back
to us. This tunnel was in better shape then, and so was I.” He ducked away from
another scraggly hand-like extension of clawing roots, then crept forward in
the tunnel. “We’ll request hospitality of my cousin in the Vales.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Your cousin is a freedman in the Vales?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Mild-voiced Gregaraii said, “My cousin is earl of
the Vales.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<em><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The</span></em><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> Jareth
Valo-Treor of the Vales? That proud old warrior descended from long-forgotten kings?
Impossible. Or was it? Despite Gregaraii’s humility, only noble blood could
cause Vrydn Abbey to overlook Gregaraii’s quirks and grant him that ring of
master-keys. Battling astonishment, Davin followed Gregaraii. Only silence
could pay his mentor appropriate respect.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As they approached the next clump of roots dangling
from the ceiling, Gregaraii lifted his lamp and scooted around an odd
pearlescent curtain that dangled in wide, loose twists from the knotted roots.
Following his master’s example, Davin sidestepped the big, shimmering coils,
eyeing their peculiar pattern. Those scales, that sheen … it could only be a
snake skin.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">A giant snake’s skin.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Davin swallowed and allowed his gaze to follow the
skin’s lowermost loop, which trailed along the passage ahead in an endless
glowing and ghostly swath. For the first time, Gregaraii faltered. “Na’khesh.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The giant snake of ancient local lore? Davin shook
his head. It couldn’t be. All na’khesh vanished centuries ago, if they’d ever
existed. Gregaraii exhaled a perilously direct prayer to their Creator. “Let
this creature of the Adversary, the Soul Hunter, be far from us, oh Endless Liege!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Liege? What was the old man babbling? </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Gregaraii led Davin slowly, both of them eyeing the
skin, which trailed onward, finally ending in the ghastly replica of a giant serpent’s
monstrous, wide-open mouth. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As Gregaraii froze, Davin choked out, “Who needs a
gauatchen! We’ve this beast nearby. Shouldn’t we go back, sir?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Gregaraii’s golden eyes widened in the lamplight,
his olive face ghastly as a wax sculpture. “Oh, Eternal, where’s this na’khesh?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A
subdued creaking behind them made Gregaraii turn. Davin glanced over his
shoulder and stared hard into the darkness. The tangle of skin-draped roots
shifted in the shadows, and one particularly large root unfurled from the
broken ceiling and descended in monstrous sinuous coils. Gregaraii shoved the
lantern and keys at Davin. “Take these!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
grabbed the lamp and keys, clutching the heavy book closer, gawping as more
shadowed coils slipped from the roots above. Serpentine scales shimmered,
pearlescent in the wan lamplight. Davin shoved at his mentor. “Sir! Hurry! Let’s
run!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Gregaraii
flapped one aged, gnarled hand at Davin. “Go, or we’ll both die!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Behind
them in the tunnel, the gleaming-pale sinuous serpent reared its massive head
and hissed, its fangs glistening white in the lamp’s flickering light.
Gregaraii screamed. “Save the book! Run! Don’t look back! <em>Run</em>!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
fled, his robes flapping. Talon-like roots clawed toward his scalp and face,
drawing blood as he ran.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Gregaraii’s
agonized scream echoed behind him, then ceased.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">***</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Agony
jolted through Gregaraii with the giant serpent’s first strike. Paralysis
seized his limbs, trapping his final gasp in his lungs as he dropped to the
stone floor. Accepting the storm of searing pain in silence, Gregaraii Valo-Treor
sprawled on the stone floor as the serpent coiled around him. If Davin escaped
with the book, then these next few moments meant nothing. Nothing. …</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Clenching
his teeth, Gregaraii prayed inwardly: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Let
me enter the perfection of Your Presence! Let me see Your face and live
forever! Eternal Liege, all my trust is in You. Take my soul!</i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A cup
of celestial celebration would replace his pain. Soon—! </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
venom burned through his body, rendering him motionless, unable to breathe as
the monstrous serpent tightened its grip. Darkness closed Gregaraii’s eyes as his
heartbeat stopped.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">***</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
staggered from the cave into the predawn air, tears and blood drying on his
face, his heart thudding an army’s worth of cadences. Where was he? A mighty
cliff stood behind him, housing the cave and supporting the ancient abbey
above. Around Davin, trees and tangled shrubs loomed, shadowed and bleak. He
must escape to the Vales. The snarled shrubs rattled their drying autumn leaves
and raked their harsh limbs over his torn face as he forged a path. But what
were mere branches and leaves? He’d seen a nonexistent na’khesh. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Gauatchen must certainly be near. Neither
this huge book in his arms, nor the iron key-ring dangling from his wrist would
protect him from another such beast. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
licked his split lower lip, tasting blood as he charged through the shadowed
woods.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">***</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Clutching
the huge book to his chest, Gregaraii’s iron key-ring dangling from his arm, Davin
knelt on the stone floor before the brawny, silver-bearded tawny Earl Jareth Valo-Treor
of the Vales. Seated in an oak chair on a dais in his banner-hung, blue-and-white
great hall, formidable as any despot king, Earl Jareth’s bright-amber gaze cut
through Davin, exactly like Gregaraii’s.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin fought
tears as he placed the ancient book on the stone floor. How could he have
doubted his mentor? He should have been stricken down, not Gregaraii. Daring
another look up at Earl Jareth, Davin begged, “Forgive me, my lord. I’m Davin
of Vrydn. Your cousin Gregaraii is dead. He sent me here to seek refuge.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">News
of his cousin’s death sent a flicker of surprise across the proud nobleman’s
bronzed, weathered, silver-bearded face. Taking a breath, the earl shook his
head as if reflecting upon some long-forgotten memory and then dismissing it
without sentiment. He straightened and spoke, his big voice grating like stone
raked against stone. “Dead? But then … I lost him years ago. So, after all
these years of silence, he’s sent you—a scrawny starveling—here? Why do you
need refuge?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“From
destruction—of myself and of his life’s work.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
earl grimaced. “That dusty book is his life’s work? And who are you? His son?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Son?
Among the Religious? Davin forced down scandalized outrage. “No. He was my
mentor until his last breath. May the Eternal forgive me for not appreciating
him as I should have.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Why
shouldn’t I return you to the Religious?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“They
probably believe I’m dead.” Forcing strength into his plea, Davin said, “It was
Brother Gregaraii’s dying wish that I continue his work.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“How
did my cousin die?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
winced, hearing Gregaraii’s final scream. “Of a na’khesh strike.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Na’khesh?
Impossible!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“My
lord, as I live, it’s true. I saw the beast.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
earl’s amber eyes stared, huge and shocked, too much like Gregaraii’s for
comfort. But then he roared out a laugh that filled the empty, lamplit great
hall. “My Religious cousin, felled by a mythical serpent’s strike!” He
guffawed, then shook his head and caught his breath. “Ah, the irony! If only his
brothers were alive to hear this. Their deaths were nowhere near as glorious—our
faithful Gregaraii, taken down by the symbol of his adversary, the Soul Hunter!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Unable
to laugh, and too scraped and journey-wearied to move, Davin sagged and lowered
his gaze to the book. The earl’s laughter faded. He sighed gustily, then wiped
his face. “I’m sorry. Poor Gregaraii—I respected his intellect and counsel.
Except for his youngest sister, he was the last of my extended family. How I wish
he were here.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“As do
I, my lord.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes,”
The earl grumbled, “I’m sure you do. You stink of remorse. So, what am I to do
with you? It’s a fist in the eye of the Religious for me to keep you here, and
I’m not sure you’re worth the trouble—you younglings eat your weight in food
daily. Do you write? Read? Recite Religious principles? Decipher mathematics?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes,
my lord. All those. And I illuminate books.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Silence
followed. Davin glanced up. The earl wasn’t looking at him, but at an elegant,
veil-wreathed, olive-complexioned young woman, who stepped around the embroidered
hunting tapestries behind his great chair, her silken robes and jewels gleaming,
dazzling. Davin swallowed. How could she be real? More beautiful and regal than
any statue of Saint Syphre. As the young noblewoman’s magnificently sculpted
dark eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown over her brilliant amber eyes,
the earl lifted his silver-bearded chin at her. “Isolde, my girl, what say
you?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The young
Lady Isolde smoothed her shimmering crimson gown, revealing her advanced
pregnancy. Her gaze rested upon the book. When she finally spoke, her voice was
as calm and cool as the earl’s was boisterous. “My lord-father, he’s bound to
our family through your cousin. If the Religious would truly kill Sir Davin,
then shouldn’t we keep him? Furthermore, you know how much I enjoy my books,
and we’ll need a trained clerk to keep accounts, since old Sir Reginald has
begged to be pensioned off.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
earl shrugged, then stood. “If Gregaraii valued this boy enough to become his mentor,
then he might be worth a bit of a scrimmage. Tell your lord-husband that I’ve
hired a new clerk for you while we’re gone. You’ll need someone to manage your
revenues if the two of us die in battle.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Visibly
pained, her olive skin turning ashen, the young woman widened her golden eyes
at the earl. “Father, don’t say such a thing. I won’t lose you and Evard.
You’re being dramatic.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m
as much a realist as Gregaraii was a dreamer. We’ve an arrogant young fool as
king, and enemies on three borders, while all the lords in this kingdom battle
each other. No one is safe, girl. Not you, not me, not Evard, and not this meek
and beaten boy-clerk sent by my cousin.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
earl stepped off the dais and planted his booted feet before Davin as if he’d
step on him as readily as insult him. “Don’t presume you’ve found a permanent haven
here. You’re seeking refuge and peace from a family that’s known none since the
old empire unraveled a thousand years past. Nevertheless, serve us faithfully,
and we’ll shelter you. Cause one whiff of trouble, and you’ll be flung back at
the Religious to meet your fate—unless my daughter or I use you for target
practice first. Do you hear me?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dry-mouthed,
Davin nodded. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
earl swaggered from the hall. As his footsteps faded, the Lady Isolde lifted
one hand and beckoned Davin—her poised elegance extraordinary and unnerving for
one so young. She was much his own age, between fifteen and twenty. As he
approached, she stared at the book in his arms, then smiled. “You’ll be known
as Sir Davin here, to hold respect among our villeins—they’re uncommonly
peevish over rights and ranks. I’ll have my servant Meriel assign you a chamber,
ointment for those cuts on your face, and whatever provisions you need for your
work. I appreciate books, by the way, so I’ll intercede for you when my
lord-father loses his temper with you. What’s written in your book, sir?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ancient
legends, lady.” A chill ran over Davin as he spoke. <em>Were</em> they mere legends?
Hadn’t the na’khesh been a mere legend before it killed Gregaraii?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Legends?”
The Lady Isolde shook her head. She gathered her rich, flowing garments and
stepped down from the dais, an aristocrat firmly in control of her domain. “I
doubt it. No man among the Valo-Treor would devote his life’s work to a mere
collection of legends, much less assure its safety with his dying wish. That
book’s obviously far more than dry old stories spun of ancient whispers, and if
I’m sheltering something extraordinarily important within the Vales, I </span><em><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">will</span></em><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> know what it is, sir.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">For
all her grace and civility, this young lady certainly commanded respect and everything
else within the Vales. Davin caught his breath. What if he failed to understand
Brother Gregaraii’s miniscule notes? </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Davin
offered his fears aloud. “Lady Isolde, I’m more an artist and scribe than an
ancient language expert. If I fail to translate these verses, then perhaps it’s
for the best if the book remains as nothing but a collection of markings and
ancient paintings. According to Brother Gregaraii, true understanding of these
words will bring madness—the knowledge is dangerous.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Knowledge
is a weapon, Sir Davin, and I intend to be armed. I’ve always believed that certain
authorities strive to keep us ignorant, thus maintaining their supremacy over
our lives and souls.” Lady Isolde clasped her long hands together, the rings
glittering on her fingers in mute, dazzling testimony to her family’s astounding
wealth. “As for madness, sir,” she softened her voice to a well-bred murmur. “My
lord-father believes Ceyfraland is yet again descending toward war on all our
borders and within them. Madness is in the very air around us, so breathe deep!
The Vales can survive whatever’s in that book. Therefore, I command that you translate
and share it—madness and all.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Was
she so confident of her sanity? Of his?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Syphre
save them all.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
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<h2>
<u></u><u></u></h2>
Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-86569968947768484922019-04-30T14:51:00.001-07:002019-05-06T19:53:02.538-07:00At Last! Realm of Thorns!<div style="text-align: right;">
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Celebrate with me!</h2>
<br />
In my previous post, I touched on the theme of my new series. Counting the Cost of possessing our Scriptures. Today--at last!--I'm celebrating the release of the introductory novella, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Realm-Thorns-Legends-Forsaken-Empire-ebook/dp/B07RBR3H2F/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=R.+J.+Larson+Realm+of+Thorns&qid=1556661236&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull" target="">Realm of Thorns!</a><br />
Yes, I've been waiting all these months, holding onto this post and waiting to celebrate my newest book-baby's release into the world. Sorry for the delay, but I pray you'll decide this series has been worth the wait!<br />
<br />
Blessings, dear everyone!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7A2y8X7j_Xg/XMjC6uBO_ZI/AAAAAAAAAdw/nIhN3VfW1xkA9fc3aa3KwdZzm9G_v9YhQCLcBGAs/s1600/RealmOfThornsCOVER.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7A2y8X7j_Xg/XMjC6uBO_ZI/AAAAAAAAAdw/nIhN3VfW1xkA9fc3aa3KwdZzm9G_v9YhQCLcBGAs/s640/RealmOfThornsCOVER.png" width="425" /></a></div>
Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-15931941176176288382018-11-06T12:22:00.003-08:002018-11-06T12:24:55.935-08:00Legends of the Forsaken Empire: Theme<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At What Cost?</td></tr>
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One of the first pieces I wrote for publication, and undoubtedly, the most widely distributed--many years ago--was included in <i>The Women's Devotional Bible, Classic version</i>, and made its debut in Regal's bestseller, <i>A Moment A Day</i>. I wrote under my pen name, at that time, Elizabeth Larson. (Sound familiar?)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
My devotional, <i>Counting the Cost</i>, pondered the debt modern believers owe to courageous women--and men--throughout history, who risked and often sacrificed their own lives to preserve freedoms to read the Scriptures. According to a medieval bishop, women, and men, who "make themselves so wise by the Bible" were dangerous, and worthy of absolute scorn. </div>
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Why am I returning to this devotional from my earliest writings?<br />
<br />
Because it's the main theme of the <i>Legends of the Forsaken Empire</i> series.<br />
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This book, these ancient scriptures, wield power even in our modern times. And possessing those scriptures and reading them freely comes with a cost.<br />
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Are we willing to pay the price?<br />
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My <i>Legends of the Forsaken Empire</i> characters must ultimately decide for themselves.<br />
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Blessings, dear everyone, and celebrate your freedoms as you read your favorite verses.<br />
<br />
<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-86646953127382033892018-09-26T11:18:00.003-07:002018-09-26T12:36:17.503-07:00Details-DETAILS!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dFC2ILUA7dY/W6vIBQdlV4I/AAAAAAAAAb4/2V_-DiP9ixQcSKtw7iLfiAdkOYvvYJTvACEwYBhgL/s1600/LegendsLostChapletSKETCHrotated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dFC2ILUA7dY/W6vIBQdlV4I/AAAAAAAAAb4/2V_-DiP9ixQcSKtw7iLfiAdkOYvvYJTvACEwYBhgL/s1600/LegendsLostChapletSKETCHrotated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1393" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dFC2ILUA7dY/W6vIBQdlV4I/AAAAAAAAAb4/2V_-DiP9ixQcSKtw7iLfiAdkOYvvYJTvACEwYBhgL/s320/LegendsLostChapletSKETCHrotated.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dFC2ILUA7dY/W6vIBQdlV4I/AAAAAAAAAb4/2V_-DiP9ixQcSKtw7iLfiAdkOYvvYJTvACEwYBhgL/s1600/LegendsLostChapletSKETCHrotated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Lost Chaplet Pendant</a></div>
Recently, I decided to practice sketching on a landscape from my imagination (and a Staedtler sample sketch), inspired by Legends of the Forsaken Empire, Forfeited, Book 1.<br />
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A field and meadow overlook the sleepy, mist-shrouded village of The Vales, with ancient ruins on the distant hillsides, and a grand chapel guarding its woods to the west. This seemingly tranquil pastoral scene is hiding secrets--one a symbol of a shattered faith, which future generations must restore. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LjKnUtFQFPk/W6vIKvdqSiI/AAAAAAAAAcA/MCkj125g1cYm5qB6I8flUleLHRIeWYGYwCEwYBhgL/s1600/LegendsLostChapletsketchDETAIL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="804" height="278" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LjKnUtFQFPk/W6vIKvdqSiI/AAAAAAAAAcA/MCkj125g1cYm5qB6I8flUleLHRIeWYGYwCEwYBhgL/s320/LegendsLostChapletsketchDETAIL.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lost Chaplet Pendant detail</td></tr>
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Legends of the Forsaken Empire follows a powerful family's struggles with faith, corruption, scandal, political battles, and--yes--some mysterious books and beasts, which shouldn't exist except in legends.<br />
<br />
I hope my sketching skills progress to the point of offering readers glimpses of the mysterious beasts that hunt our beleaguered Legends characters.<br />
<br />
Until then, here's a symbol of broken faith and a quiet village surrounded by a mist that's not as benign as it appears.<br />
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<br />
Let me know what you think!<br />
<br />
Blessings,<br />
<br />
R. J. (and Kacy)Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-65940522779186351892018-08-17T13:57:00.000-07:002018-08-17T13:59:44.307-07:00Realm of Thorns: Intro to Legends of the Forsaken Empire Series<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V29zOF0rZJI/W3czp2FlBiI/AAAAAAAAAa0/8-c4fntva4k4a5_mCfjhl75C_ypq2OjMACLcBGAs/s1600/RealmOfThorns.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1037" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V29zOF0rZJI/W3czp2FlBiI/AAAAAAAAAa0/8-c4fntva4k4a5_mCfjhl75C_ypq2OjMACLcBGAs/s320/RealmOfThorns.png" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Introductory Novella: Realm of Thorns</td></tr>
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<div>
While Realm of Thorns, and its sequel series, Legends of the Forsaken Empire, are written as a standalone series, readers of the Books of the Infinite series will recognize those stories as a *possible* ancient history of the Syvlande Empire and future stories in Legends of the Forsaken Empire. </div>
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Why?<br />
<br />
Because Books of the Infinite illustrates the building of a fantasy realm’s Sacred Word, while the Legends of the Forsaken Empire series portrays the political and spiritual effects the Sacred Word has upon mortals struggling to survive in a fallen world. Think of the Legends of the Forsaken Empire series as a medieval fantasy family saga inspired by Earth’s actual history.<br />
<br />
History fanatics might recognize a few similarities between the kings of Legends of the Forsaken Empire, and some of our own, more notorious, medieval rulers. Much of this series is grounded in actual medieval accounts and traditions. <br />
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<div>
Realm of Thorns—set in their world’s New Testament era—details the Syvlande Empire’s beliefs and links us to Eliya and Valo’s descendants in a distant medieval future. </div>
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I hope you enjoy their family’s story!</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "perpetua titling mt" , serif; font-size: 20pt; margin: 0px;">Books
by R. J. Larson:</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Books of the Infinite</span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Prophet</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Judge</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">King</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Realms of the Infinite</span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Exiles</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Queen</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">DownFallen</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Valor</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Legends of the Forsaken Empire</span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Realm of Thorns (A novella)</span></div>
</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "perpetua titling mt" , serif; font-size: 20pt; margin: 0px;">Chapter
1</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">To whom can I speak and give
warning? Who will listen to Me? My people refuse to hear; they turn away. The
Eternal’s Word offends them; they find no pleasure in it. </span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">From<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Books of the Prophets</i></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">The
Rone’en</span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "copperplate gothic light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Willing herself to</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
appear serene, Eliyana of Khelqua watched her teachers. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Seated
opposite her at the gold-inlaid amethyst table, the revered Torena’s dark eyes
glinted, fiercely at odds with her sedate wreath of silver-plaited hair, which
gleamed beneath sheer formal veils. Her opponent, the smooth-shaven
Kiyros—rotund as a subtly wrinkled tawny russet plum—waved her off
dismissively. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Shaking
his silver-curled head, he lectured Eliya. “Ignore her, Lady Eliyana. The
revered Torena forgets that insecure victors rewrote history! Queen Cyphar and
her consort, Gueron, instituted many social reforms that advanced our culture,
yet they were unfairly maligned—their reputations besmirched by the ancient
prophets and fanatics of Khelqua.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Unfairly
maligned?” Torena planted her long brown hands on the study table’s shimmering
surface. “Cyphar </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">murdered</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
all but one of her own grandsons and, according to the Sacred Word and Khelqua’s
official scribes, Gueron was a paid assassin. How was she fair?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Kiyros’
voice oozed contempt. “You’re certain she wasn’t? The ‘Sacred Word’, your
treasured </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Rone’en</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">,
was written by those scribes and so-called prophets who scorned our Chaplet
faith and brutally executed Cyphar and Gueron.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Torena
exhaled, a woman controlling extraordinary impatience. “Were you there? No! We
must rely on contemporary accounts. Ancient scribes and prophets recorded
events independent of each other, which testifies to their veracity.
Furthermore, your Chaplet faith is nothing but Cyphar’s self-serving pagan
creed mixed with just enough of the Eternal’s scriptures to make it inviting to
Khelqua and the continent. The Chaplet goal is to obliterate our past! Yet, to
deny and suppress the Rone’en is to scorn the faith that created and bound our
Syvlande Empire.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Faith?”
Kiyros snorted. “Tyranny built and bound the empire. It deserves to crumble!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Eliya
gazed up at the palace study’s carved stone roof-beams, then at a crack tracing
it’s way along the plastered walls from a recent quake. Once per week, her
teachers contended with each other, their verbal battles so vociferous that one
or both teachers should expire at every lesson from sheer exhaustion.
Ironically, the following week, her teachers might argue the opposite opinions
with equal ferocity, until she was convinced that Torena followed the Chaplet
faith, and Kiyros harbored devotion to the Eternal Liege—and that they’d thrash
each other while defending their views. How could such behavior be proper while
training a princess? She ought to scold them both. “Sir, and revered lady, I’m
leaving.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Obviously
not hearing her, Torena snapped at Kiyros, “If the empire falls, it will be
because headstrong </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">spoiled</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
citizens rebel against common sense by calling laws tyranny, since too many
citizens are reluctant to perform honest work! If you believe your life will be
better after the empire falls, then you’re deluding yourself.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“We
will be free!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Enough.
Eliya tapped her fingertips on the glistening amethyst tabletop. If she
reported half of her teachers’ hot-headed utterances to her lord-father, they’d
be imprisoned or worse. Particularly if Kiyros truly wanted the Empire to fall.
Eliya abandoned her seat and shooed off Kiyros as if he were an errant bird.
“Go then! Be free. And don’t return. You’re dismissed. Permanently.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Torena
stood, her scholar’s face calm. Mask-like. “Forgive me, Lady Eliya. I’ve
forgotten—this was your last lesson.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Kiyros
reddened visibly, then turned flustered. “Her last lesson? We’re dismissed? And
no one told me? Lady Eliya—”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“It’s
been kept secret.” Not that she’d welcomed all the secrets. Eliya replaced her
writing quills and inkstand in her silver carrying case, then closed its lid.
“Don’t worry, good sir, you’ll be paid for the entire year’s lessons as
agreed.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“But
…” Kiyros hesitated. “What about the year’s remaining lessons?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Was
he worried about lost prestige? Of no longer serving in her father’s royal
courts? Eliya smiled at him. “You’re free, remember? Make arrangements with new
students at your leisure. I’m being married off. Tomorrow morning, I leave for
the northern realms as Trisguard’s future queen.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Well.”
Kiyros regathered some of his composure, then reached for his notes and
reference scrolls. “That was sudden. The empire’s northern realms, eh? Not
surprising. I’ve heard rumors that Ceyphraland’s rejected you, and that
Belvasae’s prince is in love with a commoner.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Though
renowned for his discretion and keeping royal secrets, Kiyros delighted in
sharing unflattering gossip he’d dredged from other citizens. Did he hope to
enrage her? Eliya shrugged. “We’ve heard nothing from Belvasae or Ceyphraland.
Whether the rumors you’re spreading are true or not, my lord-father believes
this northern alliance with Trisguard is Khelqua’s best option. For, despite
all its talk of leading the Syvlande Empire and possessing the imperial Sun
Crown, Belvasae rarely manages its own lands competently. Unlike Khelqua and
Trisguard. Farewell, Kiyros. I’ve enjoyed our debates.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">His
face scrunched like a drying, darkening plum, Kiyros swept up his writings and
scribe-box and stalked out. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Torena
watched him go, then spoke, her voice low and tranquil. “He’s been a
sometimes-worthy opponent.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Eliya
studied her childhood mentor. “You seem content, revered lady, being
newly-retired and no longer employed by the royal court.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Oh,
but I </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">am</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
employed, lady.” Torena bowed her head, her sheer veils shimmering and drifting
gently. Composed as a revered teacher should be, she gathered her scrolls and
writing gear. “This morning, the king appointed me to escort the empire’s only
marriageable princess to Trisguard, then serve as your official attendant and
scribe until you’ve acclimated to your new realm.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Ah,
there’s another secret revealed.” Eliya rested her parchments and wax
note-tablet atop her writing box. “I should have known I wouldn’t escape you,
dear Torena. Not that I long to.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">At
least in Torena’s company she’d have a perpetual reminder of home. As they
walked through the glistening amethyst-and-gold halls of Khelqua’s royal Ariym
Palace, Torena asked, “What have you gleaned from enduring all our weekly
debates with Kiyros?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“That
scholars can be stubborn and tiresome.” Eliya shifted her writing gear, then
teased her elder with a grin and a nudge. “And, that one teacher in particular
can be trusted with an empire’s secrets.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Not
the whole empire’s worth,” Torena protested. “I’d eventually be hunted and shot
down by some Chaplet nobleman who’s desperate to keep his own secrets to avoid
paying for spiritual pardons. Don’t worry, lady. I’ll serve you only two years,
and then retire. You’ll be free to appoint your future companions from
Trisguard’s courtiers.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">An
unexpected pang nearly checked Eliya’s footsteps. Only two years? She’d miss
the revered lady. Just as she’d deeply miss her family and Khelqua. “Torena,
I’ll hate to leave Khelqua.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Lady,
Khelqua will hate to see you leave.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Before
misty sentiment fogged Eliya’s gaze completely, Torena added dryly, “The
jewelers and fabric merchants will lose half their business the instant you
step out of our lands.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">If
Torena had been one of her siblings, Eliya would have shoved her. Instead she
laughed, then sobered. Tomorrow, she’d leave Ariym forever. Within days, she’d
cross Khelqua’s borders and never return. “I wish my departure could be
delayed. What if my future husband’s fanatically devoted to his Chaplet faith?
What if he asks me to cease reading the Liege’s words?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“We
pray and trust that the Eternal Liege will shelter you, lady.” Hugging her
treasured copy of the Rone’en closer, Torena added, “As for myself, I can’t
give up the Sacred Word, no matter what the cost. If reading it means that I’m
sent onward from mortal life to the Eternal, I’ll have no regrets.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Torena’s
composed, austere face, and her near-maternal grip on the Sacred Word, assured
Eliya that she’d indeed give her life for her faith. Eliya shivered. Could she
be as steadfast? “Don’t plan your death. I need your courage. I know nothing of
my future home. If Trisguard’s Chaplet laws tighten, and my true beliefs are
discovered and deemed traitorous … even my royal blood won’t save me.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">They
walked together, silent except for their sandaled feet clicking briskly against
the corridor’s amethyst and marble pavings. As they turned into the palace’s
main gold-and-amethyst corridor, Torena spoke, low and urgent, as if conveying
a reluctant message. “Whatever your misgivings, lady, it’s imperative that we
leave as planned. I feel the Eternal urging us away from Ariym—from Khelqua
itself. By the Liege’s living Spirit, we must depart. Do you trust Him, Eliya?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“More
than I’d ever trust the Chaplet faith’s revered Cyphar.” Never mind that the
legendary Cyphar’s regal, golden-eyed image watched Eliya from every corner of Ariym’s
palace. Even now, the ancient queen’s cutting gaze studied her unblinkingly
from a quake-fractured mural framed within a wall’s golden arcaded stones. Was
Cyphar truly Eliya’s ancestor? Perhaps. Eliya’s eyes were the same clear gold.
Her lord-father’s eyes. The eyes of a lion sighting prey. Eternal spare her
from ever becoming as merciless. Eliya hurried onward.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Keeping
pace to her right, Torena exhaled. “If you mistrust the Eternal, then I’ve
failed you and your lady-mother.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Suppressing
weakening memories of her gentle, ever-devout mother, Eliya murmured, “No.
Torena, you’ve not failed. And it’s not that I don’t trust the Eternal and His
son, our Liege. Rather, it’s my own family that’s caused doubts. Their
loyalties are so fleeting, that I question myself. Am I as flighty? Is my faith
a fancy? I’d like to believe that it’s not—that I’m capable of building a
substantial and useful life, reflecting my faith. But then I look at … others.”
Her lascivious lord-father, frivolous stepmother, and unreliable siblings, for
example.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Could
she trust any of them with her innermost secrets?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Torena
shook her revered head. “How distressing. Such doubts from my most excellent
student—the only one who never shirked lessons week after week.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Your
lessons were an escape from palatial boredom, revered lady, and they’ve given
me a thirst for truth. Thank you. But now, the lessons have ended, and I’ve
even more questions and concerns than I had when I first bowed to you as an
apprentice-scribe.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Your
concerns are understandable, but I trust your abilities, Lady Eliya—and I’ve
listened to many a noble-born who believes he or she could conquer the empire
with less than half of your abilities. You will become invaluable to
Trisguard.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Invaluable?
To Trisguard’s allied northern realms? Doubtful indeed, considering that she’d
not received one hint of assurance from her future lord-king husband, Laros
Rakiar of Trisguard, that she’d be truly welcomed.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Never
mind the trinket-filled gold box his messenger had placed at her feet two weeks
past, accompanied by Laros Rakiar’s own note, filled with tributes to her
beauty and accomplishments. Every exquisitely written word obviously
paraphrased details he’d heard from some flattery-filled envoy.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Apparently,
the lord-king of the northern realms didn’t contemplate </span><i><span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">her</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">, his future wife. She was a pretty
formality. A trade agreement. A costly ornament to be stored away in dim
apartments within his palace, unaccompanied by anyone from Khelqua except
Torena and, perhaps, her personal maidservant, Vaiya. Her own friends, ladies,
and even her relatives would be regarded as interfering interlopers within
other royal courts. Father had emphasized this grievous detail more than once
during Eliya’s childhood. It didn’t matter who married her—she must become a
citizen of her wedded realm and not drag packs of ‘foreigners’ with her from
Khelqua. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Yet
she dreaded the isolation. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">What
if no one in Trisguard’s court befriended her, or could be trusted? What if
Laros Rakiar secretly scorned her? What if he never loved her as Father had
loved her lamented late-mother? Worse, what if Trisguard’s ruler was so
strictly bound to the Chaplet faith that he ultimately persecuted her for
trusting in the Eternal Liege? </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">To
the Eternal, the Lord of all Sacred, she formed a silent prayer. “Defend me, I
beg You! Protect me from my future enemies as I enter Trisguard.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Particularly
if her most noble enemy should ever be her own husband.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">His
silence unnerved her.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">***<img border="0" height="13" src="file:///C:/Users/KACYBA~1/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image002.png" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_6" width="12" /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Her
dark curls tamed and held back in a golden mesh caul, her rare purple robes in
perfect order, Eliya knelt on the cold, smooth amethyst tiles before her
father’s gilded throne and her step-mother’s honored bench, situated within
arm’s reach of the throne. “My lord-father … I beg you … let me stay in Khelqua
one more week.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Her
father, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Rodiades,
tetrarch of the empire’s western realm of Khelqua,</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
hid a yawn, smoothing his puffy face and silvering beard with one gnarled,
ring-weighed hand. Sounding like a man longing for a nap, he grumbled, “Eliya,
you’ve had the last nineteen years to visit your family and Khelqua. What use
is one more week? Don’t lose courage now—too much depends on your ability to
captivate the northern realms. Trisguard’s cavalcade is already traveling to
meet you at their border, beyond the mountains.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">What
were her father’s plans? Why did he need this alliance? She studied his bored
visage and faded-gold eyes. If only she could read his mind. Or call upon
insights from the Eternal, as prophets had done in the past. But—according to
the Chaplet priests—the prophets were dead. And she was a mere princess whose
royal father couldn’t be bothered to speak her full name in a formal audience.
Unless he thought Eliya </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">was</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
her full name.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Her
stepmother, Amara—Rodiades’ second wife, elevated from a league of royal
darlings—leaned forward. “How I wish your royal mother had lived to see this
day! She’d be so proud of your beauty—your dignified presence. Dear girl,
believe me when I vow we’ll miss you. But you must leave tomorrow as planned.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Don’t
disgrace us with tears,” her father urged. “Now … your brothers and sister are
in the courtyard, anticipating your farewell banquet. Don’t keep them waiting.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">He
wouldn’t attend? Eliya willed gentleness into her words. “My lord and father,
because it is my last night, would you visit us later? After you’ve rested?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“I
cannot promise. I’ve letters to write to Belvasae and Ceyphraland tonight,
announcing your marriage and formally inquiring as to why our correspondence is
so sadly diminished. Not that I blame Belvasae and Ceyphraland for neglecting
Khelqua. I’ve neglected them for Trisguard’s concerns, and yours.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">She
bowed, then departed from the echoing amethyst throne room.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Willing
herself to ignore the sting of tears.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">***<img border="0" height="13" src="file:///C:/Users/KACYBA~1/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image003.png" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_7" width="12" /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">In
the arcade-framed courtyard, Eliya smiled as her siblings cheered her arrival.
The eldest, twenty-year-old Lord-prince Iscah, strode toward her, sun-bronzed
and more vital than their father had been in years. Iscah held out his hands,
drew Eliya near, and kissed her cheek. “You look sad. Don’t brood, El. If you
hate your husband, then I will gather an army and chase him from the northern
realms.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">His
clear yellow-gold eyes sparkling with a seventeen-year-old’s restless mischief,
Eliya’s second brother, Valo, joked, “I’m with Iscah. I say that Rakiar’s
gotten off too easily. He should wage an all-out battle for you. In fact,
you’re leaving months too early!” He waved at the courtyard’s blooming fruit
trees. “Spring is the time for war. </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Summer’s</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
end is the time for treaty brides.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Eliya
swiped Valo’s arm. “I forbid you and Iscah to attack my future husband. What if
you defeat him? He’d hate me.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Then
we’d oust him and every other petty king from the empire and give Belvasae’s
sun-crown to Iscah.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">A
Khelqua prince wearing the emperor’s sun crown. Such a marvelous feat hadn’t
been accomplished in three generations. Eliya smiled but shook her head. “You’d
risk Khelqua.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“We’d
guide the empire to its greatest glories.” Iscah’s lowered tone warned Eliya
that he’d seriously considered the matter. “The Syvlande Empire is fading.
Isn’t this what the prophets warned? We must reunite the realms and strengthen
our grip on the continent!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Twelve-year-old
Jesca, the youngest, and Eliya’s only sister, laughed and edged into the middle
of their conversation, her golden-brown eyes not as bright as Valo’s or
Eliya’s, but afire with her love of schemes. “You should. We should! The empire
would thank us, and future citizens would praise our names.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“If
they don’t kill us first.” Valo goaded Jesca out of the circle, then followed
her, calling over his shoulder, “Enough small talk! We’ve a feast to attend,
and Eliya doesn’t want to discuss warfare all night.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Just
beyond the courtyard’s entry to the palace, bells chimed, warning of
approaching company—a dignitary they weren’t permitted to ignore.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Iscah
scowled at the entry, annoyance darkening his smooth-skinned bronze face. “Some
highborn foreigner’s intruding upon our feast.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Indeed.
Eliya muted a sigh. Naturally, their last evening together would be consumed by
formalities. Probably some finicky elder-diplomat from Belvasae’s southern
realms, who would complain about his difficult journey, bad food, and the fact
that correspondence between the realms had dwindled to an insultingly meager
level. Well, her lord-father could voice the same complaint against Belvasae
and Ceyphraland. If either country dared to—</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Her
indignation froze as a tall, black-clad young man strode into the garden, his
full mouth subtly pursed as if wary of the unexpected feast. Surveying
Khelqua’s royal siblings, his dark eyes gleamed. As he glanced at Eliya, he
lifted one commanding eyebrow, countless unspoken thoughts hinting in his gaze.
She held her breath, staring, listening as the servant called out, “Lord-king
Danek of the </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Walhaisii.”</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Eliya
blinked. Had the old Walhaisii lord-king died of his lingering illness earlier
this year? Apparently so. Yet, no one had cared enough to mention it to her
within her secluded court. But why should they? What was a minor upstart
highland king compared to Khelqua’s ancient lineage? Yet Lord-king Danek was
certainly imposing. Even Iscah seemed impressed, his grim displeasure replaced
by courtesy. Though Iscah’s civility could just as easily be inspired by the
fact that this Walhaisii king could undoubtedly throw him aside with a careless
swat. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">As
Eliya stepped back, clearing a path toward the table, Jesca gripped her arm and
whispered, “I’m so glad he’s not your husband! </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">I</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"> want to marry him. I’ll ask
Father.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Our
lord-father would say you’re too young.” And giddy. Jesca’s thoughts flitted
from one idea to the next, her lively infatuations usually fading by sunset. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">However,
the Walhaisii lord-king provided plenty of reason for infatuation, from the
sheen of his dark hair, to his understated, perfectly fitted gold-edged black
robes, polished boots, and the wide leather belt emphasizing his warrior-worthy
physique. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Iscah
led Lord-king Danek to the feast. As they relaxed around the table, sharing
soft bread, richly spiced simmered meats, dried fruit and cooled wine, the Walhaisii
king said, “I’d no intention of barging into your feast uninvited, but the
servants brought me here after sending word to your lord-father. He answered
that he’d greet us later this evening. I owe him the Walhaisii’s pledge of
loyalty.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">And
a tribute, undoubtedly. Eliya swallowed her bread. Only the promise of some
other king’s rich gift would bring Khelqua’s king out of hiding this evening.
Even she had been unworthy of Father’s notice. How unjust and—</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">No.
She must not be angry with her lord-father when she departed in the morning.
Rodiades had also obliquely insulted Lord-king Danek by not greeting him
immediately. Above all, she must remind herself that her lord-father was
even-handed in dispensing signs of arrogant indifference.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Impetuous
as ever, Jesca smiled at the highlands’ king. “My sister, Eliyana, has been
ordered to leave tomorrow for the northern realms—Trisguard. Tetrarch Laros
Rakiar’s pledged to marry her. You should have spoken for her instead. Then
we’d have her just beyond our borders.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">As
a stinging blush warmed her face, Eliya shook her head at Jesca. But Iscah
grinned, and Valo joked to their guest, “What kept you from asking? Have
stories of her bad temper reached you in the highlands?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Lord-king
Danek laughed, so good-natured with her teasing siblings that Eliya forgave
Valo. Danek met Eliya’s gaze, admiring her even as he jokingly quoted, “‘The
king of brambles and thorns said to the king of oaks, ‘Give me your daughter
that my son might marry her!’ But the next morning the brambles were hacked to
pieces and the thorns burned to ashes.’” Lowering his voice self-mockingly,
Danek said, “I must preserve my realm, minor as it is.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Iscah
lifted a gilded goblet of wine. “Are you saying the empire’s remaining leaders
would turn upon you? Don’t you trust them?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“The
Syvlande’s kings and lords haven’t given me reason to mistrust them yet.” Danek
nodded at Iscah. “What’s your opinion of the empire’s future, Lord Iscah?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Iscah’s
golden eyes shone over his goblet’s gilded rim, and he paused before drinking.
“The empire needs a strong ruler, not a league of quarrelsome kings.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Or
the empire needs to dissolve,” Danek countered mildly. “Cooperation between the
allied realms is breaking down—and if one tetrarch lord-king attempts to rule
the others, we’ll have open warfare from Khelqua’s shores to the far beaches of
eastern Ceyphraland.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Was
Iscah going to choke on his ill-timed gulp of wine? Eliya watched her brother
swallow hard, then set down his cup.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">And,
when Danek glanced away, Iscah’s scowl toward their guest held promises of
daggers.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><img border="0" height="13" src="file:///C:/Users/KACYBA~1/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image004.png" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_8" width="12" />***</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Masking
his disdain, Danek swiped a fold of bread into his portion of tender spiced
meat, then ate it. Agree to one all-powerful Syvlande emperor? Never. Marry a
princess of Khelqua? Not in a fit of madness, much less cold sanity. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Clearly,
the young Lord-prince Iscah fancied himself mature and capable of managing an
empire. The Syvlande’s remaining tetrarchs would wipe him out in a single
battle, then hold a banquet over his grave—just before they turned upon each
other. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">As
for marriage … Danek pitied the sad, golden-eyed princess. Beauty
notwithstanding, Lady Eliya was a mere game-piece for the allied northern
realms. Their leader, Laros Rakiar, tetrarch of the north, undoubtedly
envisioned himself as the next emperor. Only the Eternal could help the
princess if she failed to bring the western realm’s armies to his side.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">And
with this Iscah as her brother, she’d ultimately fail, for Iscah would
obviously help no one’s cause but his own.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Yet
…. Danek mastered a frown. Was he being too harsh with these sheltered,
inexperienced royal younglings? He </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">was</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
six years older. At their age, he’d also been overconfident. Convinced he could
rule. Now, after governing the Walhaisii for only three months, his own
mistrust, doubt, and cynicism darkened his judgments of others.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Nevertheless,
Khelqua deserved scorn. The royal younglings’ lord-father had betrayed the
Eternal Liege twenty years past by bowing to adherents of the Chaplet faith,
who’d clamored for the guiltless Liege’s death. True, the Eternal Liege had
returned to life among mortals—just long enough to prove He’d conquered death,
but Khelqua’s Tetrarch Rodiades </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">was</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
guilty of collusion and causing a wrongful death of the highest order.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">How
had </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Rodiades
of the western realm failed to comprehend the Liege’s significance—His Eternal
Spirit within humble mortal form? All the Liege’s miracles and the fulfilled
prophecies had meant nothing to Rodiades. To preserve his own mortal wealth and
power, Rodiades condemned an innocent man to die for teaching the truth of the
ancient Word—the Rone’en. As a result, the Sacred Word was scorned and
suppressed by factions devoted to the legendary figures of Cyphar and her
consort, Gueron.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Danek’s
family, sheltered in the highlands, had refused to enter Khelqua for years
after the Liege’s death, fearing persecution for their beliefs. Even at age
five, Danek perceived his parents’ turmoil. Refugees from Khelqua unfailingly
arrived with fresh stories of imprisonment, torture and death, inflicted upon
the Rone’en’s believers by adherents of Cyphar’s worldly Chaplet faith.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">The
charming pre-adolescent Princess Jesca beckoned Danek from his reverie.
“Lord-king Danek, how long will you visit us?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Only
for a short time, lady.” Tonight only, if he dared to be rude. This palace, in
fact all of Khelqua, set his flesh a-crawling with an agitation he couldn’t
explain. “I’m needed in the highlands.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Your
kingdom of thorns.” Young Jesca’s lighthearted laughter offset any offense. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">As
did the Princess Eliya’s defensive rebuke. “Jesca! How can you be rude to our
gracious guest?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Still
smiling, Jesca leaned toward Danek. “I apologize, my lord.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“No
need, lady. I appreciate your concern.” He included Eliya in his glance. She
looked away. Toward the sound of distant calls and bells echoing from the
palace corridors beyond the arcaded walls. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Prince
Valo stood, his pale eyes brightening in his tawny face. “Our lord-father’s
visiting us after all.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Four
guards entered the courtyard, unnerving Danek with their mask-like coldness as
much as the swords and javelins they bore. A flicker of a story opened within
his memories—accounts of an ancient queen-mother slaughtering her
grandchildren. Danek stood, one hand relaxed alongside his gold-and-gem-decked
courtly sword.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">His
hand twitched to draw the weapon as Rodiades himself entered the courtyard. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">But
not even the Eternal Liege would condone this proud tetrarch’s murder. Danek
subdued his loathing and bowed his head toward Rodiades. “Sire.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Welcome,
Walhaisii.” Rodiades’ golden eyes shone like old gilt in the afternoon
sunlight. “How long will you stay?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Or
how soon could Khelqua be rid of him? Danek smiled. “I’ve come to pledge
loyalty to you and pay tribute, though I can’t delay—I’m needed in the
highlands, and I’m in mourning for my lord-father. Apart from my tribute, I
won’t bring much joy to your courts.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Understandable.”
Rodiades eased himself into Prince Valo’s empty chair. “My condolences for your
father’s death.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Thank
you, sire. As for the length of my stay … if you wish, as a favor to Khelqua
and Trisguard both, I’ll pay tribute and pledge loyalty tonight, then depart in
the morning to lead your daughter’s cavalcade safely through the highlands.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">He
almost regretted the offer the instant he voiced it. He’d be weeks guiding the
sad princess from her home toward a realm that might not appreciate her, and
this marriage was an imperial matter he’d no sane reason to take on. Rodiades
grinned, genuine warmth turning his tired gaze from worn gilding to shimmering
gold. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll remember your kindness and repay you in the
future.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Danek
bowed his head toward Rodiades. Good deeds too often provoked unfortunate
rewards.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Why
had he offered?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Nevertheless,
he’d keep his word—particularly if it meant leaving this quake-cracked old
palace and Khelqua’s scheming king.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 2.66px 0px 0px; page-break-after: avoid; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "copperplate gothic light" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Vocabulary</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><img border="0" height="13" src="file:///C:/Users/KACYBA~1/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image004.png" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_45" width="12" /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">In General Order of Appearance:</span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Eliyana<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>El-ee-AN-ah</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Eliya<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>El-EE-ah</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Khelqua<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kell-KWAH</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Torena<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tore-ENNA</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Kiyros<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>KEE-Ros</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Cyphar<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>SEE-far</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Gueron<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>GYEH-ron</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Syvlande<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>SEEV-land</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Ceyphraland<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>SEH-fra-land</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Belvasae<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>BELL-vas-ay</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Trisguard<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>TRICE-guard or TRISS-guard</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Ariym<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>ARE-eem</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Rodiades<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>RO-dee-Aids</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Rone’en<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>RONE-en</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Laros
Rakiar<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>LAY-rose RAY-kee-are</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Iscah<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>ISS-cah</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Valo<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>VALL-oh or VALE-oh</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Jesca<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>JESS-cah</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Danek<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>DANE-ek</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Walhaisii<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Wall-HAY-see</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Vaiya<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>VAY-ah</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Aretes<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>AH-ree-tees</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Aniketos<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>An-ee-KEY-tos</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Adalric<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Ad-AL-rick</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Belkrates<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Bell-CRAY-tees</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Belkian<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Bell-KI-an</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Valeria<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>VAL-ere-ee-ah</span></div>
<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-16984567538303708952018-05-30T12:43:00.000-07:002018-05-30T13:22:37.392-07:00Why I deleted my websites<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mvcC21NXcHE/WDvIXXfOiTI/AAAAAAAAAOc/CNqDpzkSpPYMQ2Jg9MBCNUDnUrrkfoaEgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Black%2BCanyon%2Btrip%2B084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mvcC21NXcHE/WDvIXXfOiTI/AAAAAAAAAOc/CNqDpzkSpPYMQ2Jg9MBCNUDnUrrkfoaEgCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Black%2BCanyon%2Btrip%2B084.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stumbled across a trail block.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Yes, my websites for R. J. Larson and Kacy Barnett-Gramckow have vanished from the not quite limitless reaches of the w.w.w.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Never fear. I wasn't hacked, nor did I fail to pay my sites' host. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Due to the recent kerfuffle over the European Union's new GDPR rules, I dug into my site and my site host's information and community pages to be sure my sites complied. To my knowledge, they didn't. Worse, I couldn't find any information on the data my site host collects (notice the said host is unnamed.) No phone numbers. No generic little notices for site owners like me, who receive visits from readers in the E.U. Nada. Nothing. (Huff!)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I deleted both sites.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then I received an email. With a phone number, and a formulaic plea from the site host for information. ("Was it something we said?"). But I was tired after hours of searching and striving and fretting. Did I want to continue to pay a large and inconvenient site host each month, who'd proven so difficult to reach--not to mention seemingly oblivious to its European visitors?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Nope!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MP8m3f_zbCc/WlPqvoYIUYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Mt6BvL11Kb0IkevIvZ9EQS7uzbzoRkLawCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/RealmOfThorns.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1037" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MP8m3f_zbCc/WlPqvoYIUYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Mt6BvL11Kb0IkevIvZ9EQS7uzbzoRkLawCPcBGAYYCw/s320/RealmOfThorns.png" width="207" /></a></div>
<div>
However, I did want at least one page--for now--that listed my books as both R. J. Larson and Kacy Barnett-Gramckow for curious readers searching online for info. Here it is. <a href="https://gram-co-ink.blogspot.com/2018/05/gram-co-ink-books-by-kacy-barnett.html" target="_blank">Gram-Co-Ink</a>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When life settles down, I might build a new site elsewhere. Until then, I'm still on Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter, and--from time-to-time--Goodreads. Hint: I answer notes on Facebook almost daily. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Blessings, dear everyone! Now, I'm returning to work on Realm of Thorns!</div>
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The characters are becoming impatient. </div>
Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-67259813832666135992018-04-09T17:29:00.004-07:002018-04-09T17:40:28.290-07:00The Blessing!<h2 style="text-align: center;">
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<i></i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i>The Blessing</div>
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Now available exclusively through Amazon!</h3>
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I'm delighted to announce that my latest book-baby, The Blessing, is now available on Amazon!!! <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B07CFKKBVK/ref=sr_1_fkmr1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1523318667&sr=8-1-fkmr1&keywords=kacey+barnett-gramckow+the+blessing" target="_blank">Here!</a> </div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R9857bPnHgs/WqBFRcqLdTI/AAAAAAAAAV4/xPLBAIkP2V8fztv_xcmrhSyK4XlIp2qfgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/The%2BBlessing%252C%2Bfinal%2Bcover.png" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R9857bPnHgs/WqBFRcqLdTI/AAAAAAAAAV4/xPLBAIkP2V8fztv_xcmrhSyK4XlIp2qfgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/The%2BBlessing%252C%2Bfinal%2Bcover.png" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a>Yes, it's earlier than I'd anticipated, but this baby's been in my heart for years. The Blessing is a fictional study inspired by my family's history, nineteenth century news-clippings, and by my studies of the Bible's book of Job. (Yes, Job, so be ready. My poor characters don't have an easy time of things for much of the book.) Here's a blurb:<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R9857bPnHgs/WqBFRcqLdTI/AAAAAAAAAV4/xPLBAIkP2V8fztv_xcmrhSyK4XlIp2qfgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/The%2BBlessing%252C%2Bfinal%2Bcover.png" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: transparent; clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1031" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R9857bPnHgs/WqBFRcqLdTI/AAAAAAAAAV4/xPLBAIkP2V8fztv_xcmrhSyK4XlIp2qfgCPcBGAYYCw/s400/The%2BBlessing%252C%2Bfinal%2Bcover.png" width="257" /></a></div>
<i>May Somerville has suffered a year worthy of the Bible's Job, and the man who unknowingly prompted all her troubles has fallen in love with her. </i><br />
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<i>Isolated in Colorado's rugged mountains, her beloved family shattered by tragedy and loss, May Somerville questions her Creator amid her struggles to survive. Beset by unexpected storms, both physical and spiritual, May seeks blessings--reasons for hope as she works to restore her family.</i><br />
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<i>Separated from May by unforeseen circumstances and the expectations of others, Alex Whittier is determined to reverse injustices suffered by the Somervilles. But is it too late to redeem himself for the sake of the courageous young woman he's been unable to forget?</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Published in connection with Hartline Literary Agency, serving the Christian book community. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Visit us at www.hartlineliterary.com</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Thank you, dear everyone! Celebrate my new book baby's arrival with me! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br /></i></span>
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Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-56636755461429542832018-04-07T21:22:00.001-07:002018-07-27T10:31:18.720-07:00Realm of Thorns, First Draft DONE!<div>
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Celebrating!</h2>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Novella is born--thus far ;)</td></tr>
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This week, I finished Realm of Thorns, the novella-backstory to my next series--Legends of the Forsaken Empire. For once, my attempt at a novella remained novella-size, coming in just under 33,000 words. Not bad! However, I'm approaching the second draft full of ideas for add-ins as I polish and refine the story, so I shouldn't congratulate myself yet.<b><br /></b><br />
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Wish me blessings, guys!<br />
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Meanwhile, here's a tiny hint of this mini-novel:<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; margin: 0px;"><i>Reckoning
has come. Khelqua, the crown of the Syvlande Empire has been destroyed. The royal
house of Khelqua lies drowned beneath a prophesied destruction of
its vast river valley, leaving an ocean of dead waters. Khelqua's ancient royal lineage
now rests with two siblings, who have lost their family, their fortunes, and the realm that defines their existence. </i></span></div>
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Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-46000707316690608722018-03-07T12:06:00.003-08:002018-03-08T22:48:11.701-08:00Coming in Spring 2018!Hi, everyone! I've deliberately delayed writing this post while waiting on details for my next project. At last--news! My latest book as Kacy Barnett-Gramckow, <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The Blessing</i></span>, will be available this spring!!!<br />
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The Blessing is a departure from my Biblical fiction--it's set in 1890's New York and Colorado. However, it was inspired by a few snippets of my own family's lore, and ... might serve as a quiet meditation on the Book of Job. Quiet? Well, not entirely quiet. It <b>is</b> inspired by my own family's lore, after all. (More on that part later.) Rifles, gamblers, runaways, food, and quite a few wrenching scenes are involved.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9857bPnHgs/WqBFRcqLdTI/AAAAAAAAAV0/ltMd7nY_fE8_tKYB-UFvUyw-O0kkuI1ggCLcBGAs/s1600/The%2BBlessing%252C%2Bfinal%2Bcover.png" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1031" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9857bPnHgs/WqBFRcqLdTI/AAAAAAAAAV0/ltMd7nY_fE8_tKYB-UFvUyw-O0kkuI1ggCLcBGAs/s320/The%2BBlessing%252C%2Bfinal%2Bcover.png" width="206" /></a><br />
Here's the back cover copy:<br />
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "calibri";">May Somerville has suffered a year worthy of the Bible’s Job, and
the man who unknowingly prompted all her troubles has fallen in love with her.</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Isolated in Colorado’s rugged mountains, her beloved family shattered
by tragedy and loss, May Somerville questions her Creator amid her struggles to
survive. Beset by unexpected storms, both physical and spiritual, May seeks
blessings—reasons for hope as she works to restore her family.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Separated from May by unforeseen circumstances and the expectations of
others, Alex Whittier is determined to reverse injustices suffered by the
Somervilles. But is it too late to redeem himself for the sake of the
courageous young woman he’s been unable to forget?</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span lang="EN" style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Published in connection with Hartline Literary Agency,
serving the Christian book community. Visit us at www.hartlineliterary.com.</span></span></div>
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Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-20935539996075240672018-01-08T14:07:00.001-08:002018-07-27T10:32:27.438-07:00Realm of Thorns: Work in ProgressHappy New Year!<br />
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I spent most of my 2017 writing and re-writing book one of the Legends of the Forsaken Empire series. While I wrote it, I realized there was another story to tell: A novella-sized overview of the era when the last alliances in the ancient Syvlande Empire were broken, and the Empire was abandoned amid the rise of a new faith.<br />
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Realm of Thorns will be a standalone story, complete, yet a bridge between its ancient history and its new era. Think of it as a lead-in to the New Testament age of our own world.<br />
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For fans of the Infinite series, this series won't be part of the Infinite series. <i>However</i>, the Infinite series *might* be understood as the ancient history of the Forsaken Empire series.<br />
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Just sayin'!<br />
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Stay warm and well throughout the winter's chill, dear everyone.<br />
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Hope your 2018 is blessed thus far!<br />
What do you think of this mock-up cover?<br />
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<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-45366476744185650952017-11-28T22:50:00.000-08:002018-05-22T17:42:15.948-07:00Map-making QuandariesIt's easier to dream about creating maps than it is to actually build them--so many options!<br />
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I've recently learned that I can create maps using GIMP shareware, so I've been dabbling with possibilities here:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ar7kJgDpAoc/Wh3OmTCNOzI/AAAAAAAAATk/xdOiJ4En4BUQ79OPRTq4IjjG5lyYTtEcACLcBGAs/s1600/LegendsForsakenEmpire2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="1188" height="157" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ar7kJgDpAoc/Wh3OmTCNOzI/AAAAAAAAATk/xdOiJ4En4BUQ79OPRTq4IjjG5lyYTtEcACLcBGAs/s320/LegendsForsakenEmpire2.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the clear colors and outlines!</td></tr>
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A basic parchment-hued landmass surrounded by aquamarine seas. I love this color mix and the way the program defined the continent's edges. But I'd have to draw my own mountains, roads, boundaries, rivers, and landmarks.<br />
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I also reloaded my old CC3 software and upgraded it for a modest fee. and by the end of the day, had only this to show. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="555" height="275" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZoODCudtDnc/Wh5XBEkDAvI/AAAAAAAAAUA/qKBHECXWr48d0I-sxmiWDAOFBjz1C8A7gCLcBGAs/s320/LegendsMap2.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NotSoMuch!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZt9IMDokA/Wh8YcKZdRzI/AAAAAAAAAUc/i7G-TtR9Iqg-l4SxYWsJMHx3Mdflg9pbACLcBGAs/s1600/LegendsMap2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="1188" height="159" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZt9IMDokA/Wh8YcKZdRzI/AAAAAAAAAUc/i7G-TtR9Iqg-l4SxYWsJMHx3Mdflg9pbACLcBGAs/s320/LegendsMap2.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Less is More ...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I'm returning to the drawing boards tomorrow--watch for revisions!<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o9H43bWZETE/Wh8ZCfluUiI/AAAAAAAAAUk/lX52L3rMHYE_YwwnQur9GE-Iwx7UdQS9gCLcBGAs/s1600/LegendsForsakenEmpire2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="1188" height="159" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o9H43bWZETE/Wh8ZCfluUiI/AAAAAAAAAUk/lX52L3rMHYE_YwwnQur9GE-Iwx7UdQS9gCLcBGAs/s320/LegendsForsakenEmpire2.png" width="320" /> Aaaand ... back to the beginning! :) </a>Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-52966869558785028072017-10-18T12:28:00.001-07:002017-10-18T12:45:33.964-07:00Unexpected Inspiration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Recently, my dear husband and I finally took a belated anniversary trip--only two years late--up into Colorado's mountains.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dovtV8YKW2U/Weed_K2FPbI/AAAAAAAAASo/O0-wnYIl7EY6l1TzoHCqAooOSE9kMtRowCLcBGAs/s1600/Cumbres%2Band%2BToltec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1600" height="260" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dovtV8YKW2U/Weed_K2FPbI/AAAAAAAAASo/O0-wnYIl7EY6l1TzoHCqAooOSE9kMtRowCLcBGAs/s320/Cumbres%2Band%2BToltec.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From my seat in the train</td></tr>
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We planned to ride in a wonderfully restored 1890s coal-burning, narrow-gauge locomotive and check out the beautiful southern-Colorado landscapes, while I did some fact-checking on my 1890s manuscript, <i>The Blessing</i>. But plans often go astray, so why should our mini-vacation plans go smoothly?<br />
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We arrived at our hotel and checked in, only to realize that our train reservations weren't for the next morning, but two mornings away. We're on a budget, so we debated. Should we return home and drive up again tomorrow? Or should we toss aside our budget for once and spend an extra night in the mountains?<br />
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Of course, we were sensible. We booked an extra night in the mountains at an eclectic, creaky old hotel (an adventure all by itself) then took a deep breath of mountain air and made uncharacteristically light-headed plans.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qum9W937_yc/WeehfmXIHyI/AAAAAAAAAS0/ZzhFatfhDRY2YACIMfqJQXbFGCQK0TecACLcBGAs/s1600/sand%2Bdunes%2Bdeer%2Btracks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qum9W937_yc/WeehfmXIHyI/AAAAAAAAAS0/ZzhFatfhDRY2YACIMfqJQXbFGCQK0TecACLcBGAs/s320/sand%2Bdunes%2Bdeer%2Btracks.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh deer tracks</td></tr>
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We headed for the nearest scenic destination: Colorado's famous Sand Dunes. Real dunes, with altitude. And my idea, because there are no beaches in land-locked Colorado, and I NEED occasional doses of water running over sand. This day's therapeutic dose of water-and-sand goodness came with a few Colorado touches.<br />
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(Ignore my previously broken toes and check out those fresh deer tracks--woo-hoo!)<br />
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As well as inspiration for new writing adventures.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bAXwUvoWLCw/WeeobJWWQrI/AAAAAAAAATI/NGE0I1p_Fukh7Rm0N-J7k9OUVSmdoV42QCLcBGAs/s1600/sand%2Bdunes%2Briver%2Bescape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bAXwUvoWLCw/WeeobJWWQrI/AAAAAAAAATI/NGE0I1p_Fukh7Rm0N-J7k9OUVSmdoV42QCLcBGAs/s320/sand%2Bdunes%2Briver%2Bescape.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Below flood level. For now.</td></tr>
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Within yards of the deer's hoof-prints, I found a rushing mountain-dune stream that carried my imagination straight into future books! A hunting blind ... for hungry travelers. A river escape for fugitives in a wilderness.<br />
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So many possibilities ....<br />
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Time to write!<br />
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<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-59120139462445394912017-09-06T20:58:00.000-07:002018-07-27T10:33:01.225-07:00Brewing Up New Ideas<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UaQyn5Q3a_c/WbC77Yd4MDI/AAAAAAAAARY/lc6n5ww1MVgUVAf_hmZa-MaUfVC3Q9ywgCLcBGAs/s1600/tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UaQyn5Q3a_c/WbC77Yd4MDI/AAAAAAAAARY/lc6n5ww1MVgUVAf_hmZa-MaUfVC3Q9ywgCLcBGAs/s320/tea.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calming? Not exactly.</td></tr>
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NOTE: Don't be deceived by the tranquil pink tea in my cup. It's Angel
Falls Mist tea, which inspired the revered tisane Serena brewed just before her
epic clash with *unnamed villain* in <i>Queen</i>.<br />
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[Post Begins]<br />
This evening, I completed the first draft of book one in The Forsaken Empire series. Finally! Celebrate with me!<br />
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It's been an unexpectedly tough write--one of my longest ever--and I'm counting on considerable trimming and polishing during my second draft. The manuscript currently measures a hefty 133,358 words. Yes, it's a new personal record that deserves to be shaved down to a manageable size.But I'm pausing for tea and a day off.<br />
<br />
To allow ideas to brew.<br />
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Not only do I need to think through the cuts and revisions I've been pondering, but I need to consider a possible prequel novella that sneaked into my dreams just before I woke up two days ago.<br />
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Do I seriously want to take on a novella in the midst of a new series? Would you?<br />
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Hence the tea and a day off.Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34074543.post-40074381717111622022017-08-09T12:48:00.001-07:002017-08-11T13:15:00.308-07:00Forsaken Empire OriginsRecently, I was searching for copies of my original files for <i>The Genesis Trilogy</i> (see previous <a href="https://illuminatingthewordthroughfiction.blogspot.com/2017/06/" target="_blank">posts</a>) when I came across copies of my first book, my apprenticeship book, laboriously stored on 3.5-inch "floppy" disks. Who remembers those compact floppies and the original floppies? Ancient history, right?<br />
<br />
Deservedly so.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CKgr7DwFEBQ/WYtmCYsp3bI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/DXeY1Kr1t68eJ2o74QmlOuhu6K_GmJUggCLcBGAs/s1600/Forsaken%2BEmpire%2BOrigins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CKgr7DwFEBQ/WYtmCYsp3bI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/DXeY1Kr1t68eJ2o74QmlOuhu6K_GmJUggCLcBGAs/s320/Forsaken%2BEmpire%2BOrigins.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forsaken Empire Origins</td></tr>
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Four 3.5 compact disks held my single precious manuscript in backup, just in case our PC crashed and offered only the heart-stopping blue screen of writing death. Actually, I might be guilty of using as many as 12 disks to back up my massive tome. Excessive? Perhaps. However, because my research involved reading more than 300 books I'd either purchased or borrowed from the regional library when the fledgling worldwideweb couldn't provide answers to my authorly questions concerning all things medieval, the prospect of losing my work induced nightmares.<br />
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Nowadays, my nightmares involve storing info in The Cloud (aren't thunderstorms possible?) as well as emails and random thumb drives--all more convenient than my vintage 3.5 compact disks. Even so, these 3.5 inch babies make me smile. After all, they hold the framework for my current Forsaken Empire series. Thankfully, I've managed to protect my PC's files for more than two decades, because .... I no longer have a computer capable of reading these shiny little disks.<br />
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Does anyone still use these?<br />
<br />Kacy Barnett-Gramckowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08866010559482210382noreply@blogger.com5