Introducing: Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

Dear Imps, I have the pleasure of introducing to you today a new fantasy novelist! I met Jenelle for the first time at my most recent book signing for Dragonwitch, and we chatted a bit about fantasy, writing . . . you know, all my favorite topics. And she graciously agreed to come visit my blog today and tell you a little about her debut novel! I hope you will enjoy. And don't forget to enter your names in the giveaway at the end of the post!

First a little about the book:

When Dark Warriors invade her country, it is up to Princess Kamarie to seek out the legendary king’s warrior and request his aid. The feisty princess has spent her life dreaming of adventure and is thrilled to be tasked with such a quest. However, the adventure merely begins when she meets Brant: a warrior with a mysterious past. He joins her cause readily, his heart smoldering with a vendetta Kamarie cannot completely understand. But whether she trusts him or not, the hope of their world rests on the steel he wears at his side….


And Jenelle herself:

Jenelle grew up the oldest of four children. Every night before bedtime her father read to her and her siblings, and it was during these times that her love for adventure and fantasy were forged. While she adored the stories of the Lord of the Rings, the Chronicles of Prydain, the Wheel of Time, and the Chronicles of Narnia; it wasn’t long before her imagination led her to the creation of a world and story all her own.
In 2001, Jenelle completed King’s Warrior, originally titled The Dragon’s Eye, as a project for her father who wanted something new and fun to read to the family at night. This first endeavor gave way to the completion of a four book series that is full of the same adventure that Jenelle grew to love in literature as a little girl. Jenelle graduated from Taylor University in Indiana in 2004 with a bachelor’s degree in English Education.
Jenelle has written numerous short stories and many poems, as well as some full length work within the realm of science fiction. King’s Warrior is her first published work and she is currently working on bringing the rest of the series to public availability. Jenelle lives in Raleigh, North Carolina with her husband Derek and two little girls Leiana Arwen and Nathalie Eowyn.

 

INTERVIEW

 

 Would you mind telling us a little about yourself? Hobbies, personality . . . tea or coffee?

 

Jenelle: I am first and foremost a Christian. I have a wonderful husband and two adorable little girls (ages 4 and 1) that I stay at home with. I am an outgoing introvert, which basically means that I’m very shy, but I enjoy being around people, especially people I know well like good friends and family.

 

I’m not much for tea or coffee, actually. But I love hot chocolate.

 

When it comes to hobbies, my kids keep me pretty busy, but I love reading, watching movies, and cheering for the Cubs, even though they let me down every year. I love being outside: hiking, throwing a frisbee around, kicking a soccer ball. And I have recently been getting back into indoor rock climbing with some friends.

What led you into the writing life? Were you always a storyteller?

 

Jenelle: I’ve sort of always been a storyteller. I was writing little stories from the moment I could string sentences together in my awkward, child’s handwriting at the age of 6. A good friend and I co-authored a science fiction novel in high school. It took us three years to put together, but it was a lot of fun (and probably atrocious, but we thought it was awesome).

 

My real writing career, however, began when I came home from college during the summer after my freshman year and my dad said to me one morning, “If you want to be a writer, then you should be writing.” He then challenged me to write an adventure story that he could read out loud to the family over the summer. He asked for “ten pages a night” and said he would pay me a dollar per page and an extra $1,000 if I managed to finish the book before I returned to school.

 

It was a crazy summer of writing and editing and printing pages, but I managed to do it. I loved the instant feedback from my parents and younger siblings each night. They had quite a lot of input, and the story began to take on a life of its own. One of the best things ever was when my dad would finish reading the last page for that night, and everyone would say, “That’s it?! We need more!!!”

 

Tell us a little about your debut novel, King’s Warrior. How long did you work on this story? How did the idea come to you? Is it part of a series?

 

Jenelle: I wrote King’s Warrior in a single summer (and then spent several years editing it). The story sort of started to take shape when I was looking for ideas in my old creative writing journals from high school. There is a pond across the street from my parents’ house, and one morning before school there was all this steam rising up off of it as the sun started to rise over the horizon. I got this mental picture of the sun being a dragon, flying up out of its cave in the morning, and returning to it at night. That image sparked the idea of a myth that a people could have told and a world in which the “sun” was instead called “the dragon’s eye.” From there, the story began to take shape throughout the summer... and it ended up being absolutely nothing like I had expected. I got so much instant feedback from my family that the story and characters just took on a life of their own. For example: Brant, who is the title character, wasn’t really supposed to make it past the first chapter. He was going to be a bit role, not even a secondary character... but at the behest of my family he ends up being the star of the series.

 

Which brings me to your other question: yes, King’s Warrior is part of a series. It is the first in a four book series (which I’ve been calling a quadrilogy, even though that’s not a real word) called “The Minstrel’s Song.”

 

Can you pick a favorite character from this story?

 

Jenelle: Absolutely not. I keep getting asked this question and I try to answer it, and then I feel my other characters’ feelings being hurt when I don’t say their name. I love them all. Brant, Kamarie, Oraeyn, Dylanna, Yole, Arnaud, Zara, Leila, and of course Kiernan Kane, the bumbling minstrel who is more than he seems. They are all my favorites. Kamarie is the one who represents the most of myself, though. She is who I would hope to be if I were a princess in her time faced with the challenges she faces.

 

What inspires your work? Where do you turn when you need a renewal of inspiration?

 

Jenelle: I get a lot of inspiration from being outside. I like to at least be near a window when I write. I also get inspiration from real-life people and things that happen around me. When none of that works and I need a renewal of inspiration, I tend to talk things out with my husband or my dad. They are both excellent sounding-boards and so incredibly supportive and eager to be helpful. When all else fails, though, I turn to something a little odd. I crank up the Christmas music - usually something like Manheim Steamroller, Jim Brickman, or Collin Raye. I don’t know why it works, but something about it always helps break down the walls and let out the torrent of words.

 

What are your favorite and least favorite parts of the writing process?

 

Jenelle: I love the planning stages. Those moments when the ideas are flowing and the next story could be about anything at all. I also really enjoy the actual writing. My favorite thing during the writing process is when the story takes off and suddenly something happens that I didn’t plan or intend: a character does something unexpected, or a bit of dialogue takes place that reveals part of the end to me that I didn’t know yet, those moments are pure joy, when the story takes on a life of its own.

 

My least favorite parts of the writing process would have to be the waiting (waiting to get my editor’s comments, waiting for the book cover to be finished, waiting for my beta readers to finish reading it), and the marketing/promotional stuff. I hate promoting myself. I much prefer promoting others.

 

If you were forced to pick a single favorite author, who would it be?

 

Jenelle: Your questions are so hard! I am totally going to cheat on this one. I’d be sorely tempted to say J.R.R. Tolkien, as he inspired a love of fantasy in my heart at a very young age. But if I were forced to pick, I would have to go with Gwen Walker. She was my grandma, and she wrote my favorite book in the world. Ultimately, I would have to credit her with being at least part of the reason I became an author. I believe that my grandparents’ love of the written word permeated the entire family and is at least partially responsible for my love of reading - and, by extension, my love of writing.

 

So what is next on your publishing horizons? Can we look forward to a sequel to King’s Warrior? Or perhaps something completely new?

 

Jenelle: The next thing on my horizon is the prequel to King’s Warrior. It is titled Second Son, and should be available in September. Book three (the title is being revealed at the end of Second Son) will be coming in 2014.

 

What are you actively writing right now?

 

Jenelle: I am currently writing a completely new series. I just finished the rough draft and am working my way through it once, adding dialogue and various bits that got left out in the first go-round, and then I will send it to my content editor.

Would you share a short snippet from King’s Warrior?

 

This is my favorite scene in the entire book. It’s from near the beginning of the story:

 

EXCERPT FROM

KING'S WARRIOR

 

 

  “And which way do you think we should follow the river, your highness?” Oraeyn asked through gritted teeth.

      “That way, of course,” Kamarie said, pointing upstream, which she knew full well was the wrong direction, back towards the palace, just to annoy him; it worked.

      “Fine!” Oraeyn exploded. “Have it your way! But when we show up back at the palace, I’m not going to take the blame for getting us lost, I know which way we are supposed to go, and you, apparently, have no experience in following directions at all! You want to go up-river… then… you... go up-river!” He knew he was sputtering, but he no longer cared, “I, on the other hand, am going to go down-river, through the Mountains of Dusk, and into the village called Peak’s Shadow, to find your father’s friend and explain why you are not with me. But I won’t have to explain that will I? Because you know where you’re going. You know your way around, don’t you?”

      “Of course I knew we had to head down-river, stable boy,” Kamarie said in a chilly tone. As he began his tirade, Kamarie was simply amused, but by the time he finished, she was no longer amused and in no mood to explain that she had been teasing.

      At that, Oraeyn completely lost any and all grip he had on his loosely controlled frustration. What right did she have to treat him like this? She was only a princess, after all. And he was a squire, in training to become a defender of her nation. Without people like him, she might have been born a peasant’s daughter. The nerve of her referring to him as a stable boy!

      He dismounted from his chestnut horse and marched over to her. Glaring up at her through the rain that had been pouring down on them all day, he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the saddle. She let out a startled yelp and started beating on him with her fists. He had to admit, the girl could throw a punch. He swung her into his arms and turned as she started yelling and protesting.

      “Now, young man…” Darby started, but stopped when he threw her a withering glare.

      “I am not going to hurt her. I am just going to teach her that she can’t treat people the way she does and get away with it,” he said.

 

            He slowly and deliberately carried Kamarie to the riverbank and dumped her into the four feet of chilly, slow-moving water. He watched until she came up, making sure that she was not hurt. Then he turned and walked back to his horse.

 

___________

 

LOL! That was fun!

So what do you think, Imps? Are you eager to read Jenelle's novel now and get ready for the sequel? Well, you are in luck! She is offering a giveaway for one lucky winner. Be sure to enter your name below . . . and also, check out her website and facebook page for more information on this exciting series.

 

Many thanks, Jenelle, for stopping by today!

GIVEAWAY

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0cd52414/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

 

 

Doings at Rooglewood

Dear Imps, I have been so lax in my postings lately, so I thought I'd take the time this afternoon to let you know some of my doings various. Hopefully this will explain a little why I haven't been as faithful a blogger of late . . .

1. I've been working tremendously on getting Goddess Tithe ready for publication! Most of you have seen the title reveal banner already, but I figured I'd share it again . . .

I just received proofs of the book this afternoon, and Oh! They are so pretty! I think with just a few more tweaks, it's going to be ready to go to press.

I'll be planning the official cover reveal for Monday, September 23rd. And, because I was sent an extra proof copy, I am happy to announce that I will be offering it as a giveaway prize to celebrate the cover reveal. Is that not exciting???

If are a blogger and would like to help me host the cover reveal and giveaway next month, email me (aestengl@gmail.com), and I'll add you to the list. I'll be sharing not only the cover and story summary, but also a short excerpt and one of the interior illustrations (because, yes, Goddess Tithe is my first illustrated story!).

So that's that project . . .

2. I've also been working like crazy on my manuscript for Book 7 in the Tales of Goldstone Wood which is called . . . Oh, right. I haven't revealed the title yet, have I? Actually, it's not officially titled, and you'll have to wait another  few months to learn it. But I'm hoping to reveal that to all of you by about November 1st, so be watching!

The manuscript itself is just hitting that most fun and exciting stage: I'm over the halfway point, and all the storylines are really starting to gel. This is, I think, my most charismatic cast of characters yet. My heroine is possibly my very favorite of all time, and she spends a lot of time in company with a certain cat whom she is quite convinced is a devil in disguise. She also has dogs . . . three busy little fluffy dogs who look a lot like this:

And their names are Dumpling, Rice Cake, and Sticky Bun.
And they think they are lions.

You can well imagine the trials in store for a certain feline character . . . Too much fun. Really, I should not be enjoying this story so much.

 

So yes, possible title reveal coming up in November.

 

3. I have, this last week, begun reading submissions for the Five Glass Slippers contest.

 

 

Don't worry, those of you still planning to submit! The deadline is still December 31st. You have lots of time left!

 

But the stories are already piling up, and since I don't want to drown in them come this Christmas, I decided I should probably start reading. And I am so glad that I did! You would not believe the imagination and tremendously fun storytelling I'm encountering, just in this first week's worth of stories! I am so excited . . . and a little nervous. If these are any indication of what is to come, I'm going to have quite a time of it trying to select only five.

 

It's going to be an amazing collection, though, I can tell you that much right now. So looking forward to seeing it come together!

 

4. I've been working on a few other fun projects for Rooglewood Press as well. The historical romance (mentioned on the site) is in its final stages of cover design, and I should be doing a cover reveal for that author come late November. I'll remind all of you about it then so you can jump on board with that one too. I think it's going to be very pretty. The author has already told me that she thinks it's the prettiest cover she's ever had! :)

 

I have also been working a debut novelist on an exciting YA sci-fi adventure novel. Nothing is official on that one quite yet, but it looks like we might be having a neat new project coming out late next summer. Keep your eyes peeled!

 

5. And, of course, I have been enjoying my mentoring students. This has been a full summer for mentoring, and each student has intrigued me with her exciting story and unique writing abilities. Every month, I look forward to continuing the various adventures I'm in the midst of reading. And I love seeing the talents of my students on display as they come up with solutions to the exercises I give them. So impressive . . . I learn a lot from this crew!

 

6. And I must mention the Fan Fiction Contest currently running! Don't forget to vote. We have 34 wonderful stories on display, and there will be prizes for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place! But you need to vote for winners to be chosen.

 

7. Two of you wonderful imps--Maid Hannah and Maid Beka--have been hard at work on a little side project for me, which I hope to be able to share with all of in another few weeks! I can't tell you too much about it just yet . . . except that it's called Dame Imraldera's Library. And I think you're going to love it!!!

 

8. Next week, we have several fun features coming up. First, I am hosting an interview of a new fantasy novelist, Jenelle Leanne Schmidt, and you will get to learn about her debut novel, King's Warrior. And on Tuesday, we have the blog tour for Amber Stoke's debut novel, Bleeding Heart. There's a fun giveaway to go along with both of those features, so don't miss out!

 

Click here to learn more about this!

 

9. The other thing that's kept me busy . . . I've been sick. Quite, quite sick. With a bit of a mysterious malady that knocks me flat for two weeks at a time, vanishes, then returns two months later to knock me flat again. The doctor has run tests and can find nothing wrong with me. I'm healthy as a horse, according to all the blood work! And yet this sickness continues to knock me out every now and then. I think it might be stress-related. I do tend to overdo the work hours now and then. But, if you think of it, prayers for health would be appreciated! Currently, I'm on an upswing from the most recent bout of illness, and feeling great to be back to my normal, busy self. But I've been struck with it five times this year, and it's more than a little frustrating. So yes, prayers would be welcome!

 

10. Kitties and doggy are all doing well. Minerva has been up to her usual wickednesses, but I haven't had opportunity to allow her to blog. I do apologize for that! I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when next she gets a chance.

 

If you didn't hear, we adopted a fifth cat this year, a handsome gray-and-white fluffy named Makoose;

 

Makoose: "I am very handsome."

 

He is quite the charmer, completely incapable of believing that anyone could ever dislike him. He has taken this attitude into his relationship with Milly and, despite her initial protests, as convinced her that she must indeed adore him because he is, in fact, adorable.

 

 

They have been caught spooning on more than one occasion, so I think his persuasions must have worked.

 

So there you have it. My collection of cats has grown, and I make no apologies.

 

I had an opportunity to talk about my Crazy Cat Lady-ness on J.L. Mbewe's blog, so if you get a chance, you should go read it!

 

 

There, my dears. I think that is all I have to say. It's all I can think of, anyway! It's been quite a busy summer, and is shaping up to be an even busier fall and winter. But I wouldn't miss a moment of it!

 

Okay, I must go. Tonight, my Rohan is taking me dancing, so I need to finish my work, put myself together, and discover why my dog is barking her head off even as I type . . . Until next time!

Friday Tidbits: The Mask of Mary Sue

Absolutely ages ago, I promised to write up a Friday Tidbit dealing with the issue of Mary Sue. In response to a post where I urged writers to use pieces of themselves to create believable characters, readers asked me how they can do this without falling into the clutches of Mary Sue. Here (at last!) is my tidbit on that topic.

First of all, for those of you who don’t know Mary Sue . . . 
 

“Mary Sue” is a term used to described an idealized character used to represent the author in a story (often fan fiction) of wish-fulfillment. The character is typically the youngest, smartest, prettiest, best-liked, most awesomest character, who never ceases to impress those around her with her brilliance and know-how, not to mention fantastic good looks.
 

There are variations on the Mary Sue theme, of course. Some Mary Sues suffer from an inexplicable case of Nobody Likes Me Syndrome (which I will discuss in a future post). Some Mary Sues are feisty and sharp-tempered, lashing out at anyone and everyone around them for no particular reason. Some Mary Sues are geniuses, able to solve every problem that comes their way while the rest of the cast looks on, baffled. Some Mary Sues, by contrast, emotional, helpless, prone to weeping, and need to be rescued by the handsome hero.
 

The point is, Mary Sue represents how the author wishes to be viewed. She is distinctly lacking in motivation, but is possessed of singular skills in—you name it. Art. Karate. Science. Fill in the blank.

But here’s the thing: Mary Sue is never an honest representation of her author. She is a proxy. She is an idealization. She is a dream and wish. She is not a character.
 

By contrast, when I talk about taking a piece of myself and putting it into one of my characters, I’m talking about an honest piece of myself. You notice that Princess Una is not an exquisitely beautiful dancer/singer/swordswoman. She’s not an opportunity for me to write myself, in an idealized form, enjoying the attentions of invented suitors. She’s not a fantasy . . . she’s a person. And I gave her a piece of me—the immature, waiting-for-prince-charming to ride to the door piece of me. The spoiled piece of me that wants my own way, even when my own way would prove harmful.

There is nothing flattering about the bits of my heart which Una represents. There is nothing "Mary Sue" about her.

A little more flattering, perhaps, is Dame Imraldera. For I gave her what my husband calls my, “stray-kitten complex.” Imraldera has an enormous sense of empathy, and she wants to rescue and save any “stray kitten” that comes her way—be it a Black Dog, a selfish Faerie cat, a cowardly prince, a traitor etc. This is a virtue in me, and it is also a virtue in her.  But, like most virtues, when taken out of proper context, it can quickly overbalance and become a vice. It’s happened to me before! And it will happen to Imraldera, quite soon. Thus, she will continue to be an honest character, not an idealization.

But do you see the difference here between Mary Sue and a piece of your heart? Mary Sue is a mask, a dishonesty. A character truly based on yourself is a revelation. It’s even an embarrassment. It takes courage to write an honest character—to expose yourself to ridicule. Take a glance through my one-star reviews on Heartless, and look at the hatred spewed my Una’s way. My Una, who was an honest representation of a not-so virtuous part of my heart.

Mary Sue does not stimulate hatred. Mary Sue is safe . . . because she stimulates nothing.

So what do you think, dear readers? Any other thoughts to share on our friend Mary Sue? Do you feel more at liberty to use yourself as a “character reference” in the future? Are you currently writing a Mary Sue? I’m all ears!

 

Fan Fiction Contest 2013: Vanquishing Venom

 

 

            The blow smarted, but he merely tilted his head away in a differential manner.

            The muscular man looming over him snarled and stomped away.  He stood staring out a window for a moment, his great figure black against the pale sky.  Then he pivoted around, his arms crossed over his massive chest.  “Last I knew, Sir Eanrin,” the man growled.  “You were missing only your eyes, not your tongue.”

            The prisoner in the center of the room was clad in scarlet and his eyes were covered by red patches.  Notwithstanding the fact that his hands were bound behind his back and that he was kneeling on the floor, the prisoner held himself with poise, even authority.  He tossed his head, flicking golden hair off his brow, and gave the man a slight smirk.  “On the contrary, your majesty.  My tongue remains firmly fixed inside my mouth.”

            The large man stalked towards him, his pace slow and measured.  “Then why?” he hissed, “Can you not explain why you suddenly showed up again in my kingdom?”

            “Would you believe that it was an innocent mistake?”

            Bending down, he leveled his face with Sir Eanrin’s.  His blue eyes burned, and his breath was heavy and putrid.  “Was the last time you came an innocent mistake?”

            “Oh no,” Eanrin laughed.  “That was completely intentional, great king.”

            The king swore again, as a king never should, and swung his fist at the blind prisoner’s face.  But Eanrin dodged the blow as if he had eyes to see it coming.  “Careful, your majesty,” he said, and now his voice had lost all cheerfulness.  He spoke in a low tone, but there was a certain bite to it that would make anyone pause.  “Careful.  If you strike me again, you’ll not hear another word from my mouth ever after.”

            The king sneered.  “Fool.  You’re in no position to make threats.”

            “Agree to disagree.” The knight cocked his head to the side and flashed a cold smile.  “You’re the one who’s so desperate for information.  I can choose not to say a word.  I actually do know how to hold my tongue.”

            “That’s hard to believe,” the king grumbled, but he stepped back and lowered his hand.

            They remained there, staring at each other, one with eyes, the other with no eyes at all.  The king exhaled in a long vibrating growl, before signaling to the guards who stood at the far side of the hall.  “Take him away and lock him in the dungeon, no food or water.  He can talk or he can die, I don’t care.”

            Grabbing Eanrin by the upper arms, the guards yanked him to his feet, then pushed him towards the exit.  The knight looked back over his shoulder and gave one last parting jab.  “You’re a poor representation of a Faerie King, Cozalimar!”

            The king snarled in his throat, but said nothing more.

 

            The dungeon was dark, dank, and cold.  The darkness bothered the blind knight not a bit, but the smell and chill was unpleasant.  As the guards dragged him down to the under-story of the faerie castle, he wasn’t worried.  Eanrin, knight of Farthestshore, Chief-Poet of Rudiobus, romantic bard of all history, could work his way out of any situation, in human shape or another.

            But he had not counted on the iron chains.

            Iron weakened faeries so that they were nearly powerless against it, some more than others. Iron was banned in faerie realms; it was carried by only the shadiest of dealers, such as Torkem of Arpiar.

            But even as corrupt as Cozalimar’s kingdom had become, Eanrin still hadn’t supposed that they would have stooped to something so low-down as iron.

            They had.

            Eanrin found that out as they shoved him against the stone wall, and locked his wrists in iron shackles.  He caught his breath at the icy fire that sliced through his body as the iron bands closed around his skin.  “Dragon’s teeth,” he muttered through a clenched smile.

            After the guards left, dead silence imploded.

            Eanrin hung completely still for a few moments, unsure of his next move.  He tried to swivel his wrists in the shackles, but they were far too tight and any movement only prompted greater pain. 

            His mind flew back over the centuries, back to when King Cozalimar’s kingdom of Teltethma had been a faerie demesne of joy and beauty.  Before Life-in-Death had entered the king’s mind.  Before he’d been driven mad.  Before he had started slaughtering every follower of the Prince of Farthestshore within his borders.  The people of Teltethma, terrified and bewildered, had cried out to the Farthestshore for aid.  The rescue of the Teltethma believers had been one of the largest feats the Knights of Farthestshore had ever attempted.  To succeed, someone had to distract Cozalimar and his court.

            Eanrin smirked at the memory.

            Apparently, the Faerie Lord had never forgiven him for it.

            Suddenly, Eanrin felt something cold, smooth, and strong coil around his arm, and something flickered against his throat.  Before he could even feel his skin crawl, a voice spoke close to his ear.  A voice velvety and smooth, but not without an insidious hiss.  “There was once a cat with no eyesss; he fooled the whole court with his liessss.”

            Eanrin drew his breath in sharply and didn’t even try to suppress the shiver that swept over him.  “Dragon’s teeth,” he said again.  “What are you doing here, Kasela?”

            “What are you doing here, pussy?” the female voice replied.

            The knight let out a little growl.  “Forgive me if I never informed you that I detest being called pussy.”

            “Blame it on my memory.  How’d you get in this little messss?”

            He knew better then to remind her that he had asked first, so he took a deep breath and began.  “I’ve been recently deployed in Parumvir.  There was a prince there, Felix, who was filled with dragon poison.  I went to bring him back to Dame Imraldera for healing.”

            “Dear Dame Imraldera,” the woman’s voice said in a sarcastic tone.

            Eanrin ignored her.  “I arrived only in time for the boy to be called away by a Fallen.”

            “Hmmm, unexpected.”

            “Yes, and I don’t know why he was called.  I can guess, but why Felix?  I wonder…  Anyway, he went to the old crossing to Arpiar and stepped onto the Far Side.  I was chasing him, and it was too late for me to stop my pursuit, so I touched ground on the other side.  Where he went, I’m not certain, but I landed in the middle of Cozalimar’s guards.  Figure that out.  I couldn’t fight my way out, so to make a long story short, I ended up here.  Now,” he sighed.  “What are you doing here?”

            “Sssssight-seeing,” Kasela purred.

            “In this dark?”  Eanrin snorted.  “Seriously though, what are you doing here?”

            “My business isss my own.”

            He shuddered a little, and he shrugged his shoulders, trying to remove the sinuous coils that wound around his arm and neck.  “Interested in helping me out?”

            “Twill require touching iron.  You’ll have to say please.”

            He huffed.  “Please?”

            The snake slid down to the ground, and the next moment, she morphed into a woman with pale skin, black hair, and black clothes.  Her serpentine fingers slide into her belt, and she pulled out something gleaming.  When she slid it into the iron lock, she gave a tiny hiss of pain, for even indirect touch hurt.  But in only a few seconds, both shackles snapped open.

            Eanrin let out a gasp of relief and jerked forward, rubbing his wrists.  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

            The woman slipped back into snake form and slithered out of the cell.  She looked back, her black tongue flickering.  “Coming, kitty-cat?”

            “How come you make everything sound like an insult?” he growled, switching into cat form. 

The cat followed the snake up the stairs out of the heavy blackness.  At last they reached the first upper-floor of Teltethma’s castle, and paused near one of the many tall windows in the long gilded hallway.  When the light touched Kasela’s sin-black scales, a blue shimmer passed over her winding body.  The cat froze for a moment; one paw upraised, and sniffed the clean air appreciatively, his whiskers twitching.  “Cozalimar won’t be too happy to find me gone,” he remarked.

The corners of Kasela’s mouth turned up, and her white fangs gleamed.  A change had come over her as she had traveled upwards.  Her coy style had given way to something darker, and Eanrin had picked up a tenseness radiating from her.  “He’ll never find out,” she whispered.

            She hadn’t intended for him to hear, but when Eanrin had lost his sight, his other senses had improved.  “What was that?” he asked, his voice as sharp as a knife.

            She did not answer but slid away so silently he did not know she left.  Only when she had gotten a fair distance down the hall did she swivel her head back to face him.  “It is time for me to finish him,” she hissed.  Then she took off in an obsidian streak.

            Eanrin’s heart gave one great thud.  Did she mean it?  She’d never killed before, but considering her shady history, he did not doubt that she did mean it.  And would do it.  But why? 

            The next moment, he was flying after her, an orange blaze.  “Kasela!” he shouted.

            She ignored him.

            His ears pinned back on his head, he sped up.  The snake was fast, but the cat was faster.  Pouncing, he pinned her down with his paws, his claws digging into the wood floor around her.  She writhed, hissing, her nostrils flaring.  “Let me go!” she spat.

            “Kasela, you cannot--”

            She struck at him. 

            She did not make contact, but she came close enough for him to smell the venom on her fangs.  “One bite will be all it takes to kill Cozalimar.  The same goes for you,” she panted.

            Without warning, she was a woman, and with a thrust of her knee, she sent the cat flying into the air.

            Eanrin hit the ground as a man, and after regaining his footing, he sprinted after her fleeing figure.  In a few seconds, he caught up and grabbed her by the arm.  “Kasela, you--”

            She whirled around, her eyes afire, and laid a naked blade across his throat.

            They both froze.

            Slowly, Eanrin let go of her arm and dropped both hands to his side.  Kasela kept the knife at his neck, her face wild and her chest heaving.  “I’m going to kill him!” she hissed. 

            “But Kasela,” he reasoned. “That’s not like you.”

            “Isn’t it?” she cried.  “Isn’t it?  Then why were you so quick to guess my intent?  You know me as a street-world, slanderous, sinister snake.  Well, I’m more!  Or I was!  My family was one of the hundreds who were killed in Cozalimar’s reign of terror.  You don’t think I have a quarrel with him?  You’re wrong!  I would have killed him long ago, but I haven’t been able to find a Crossing since you rescued me.  Today I found a Crossing.  Today I shall have my revenge.  I don’t want to kill you, Eanrin, but if you stand in my way, I will!”

            He kept still and made his voice soft.  “I’m sorry about your family,” he said gently.  “I did not know…I…understand your hate and your pain.”

            “NO, YOU DON’T!” she screamed, her knife hard into his skin. 

            “Very well, maybe I don’t,” he allowed.  “But I do know that revenge is not worth two lives.”

            Her eyes flickered.  “Two?” She scowled in confusion.  “All it takes is one.  Cozalimar’s!”

            “Wrong,” the knight said.  “Revenge destroys both the lives of the avenger and their victim.  I know it will ruin your already broken life, Kasela.  The Prince of Farthestshore has offered you forgiveness and redemption, but you--”

            “SHUT UP!”

            Eanrin shut his mouth.

            Kasela looked down, and closed her shadowed eyes.  The strength of her anger was beginning to drain, and the hand holding the knife began to tremble.  “Look,” she whispered.  “I admire you Knights of Farthestshore.  Yes, I even envy you.  I envy you, Eanrin.  I envy Imoo.  I envy Oeric.  I envy Imraldera, and not because she’s the only woman you truly love.”

            “Now hold on just a se—

            “I envy your happiness, your nobility.  I appreciate how you’ve always treated me like a fellow person.  None of you seem swayed by my appearance, even when I’ve tried to get attention.  None of you shun me for my sins.  Most people do.  Even some followers of the Prince.  I love you Knights of Farthestshore.  Perhaps I wish I was like you.”  Her voice shook.  “But I’m not.  It’s too late for me.  All that is left in me is hurt.  All that is left for me to do is hurt.  I must kill Cozalimar.  Get out of my way.”  She seemed to recover herself then, and she pressed the knife in deeper, her teeth clenched.

            Eanrin let no emotion flicker across his face.  His voice stayed level.  “Were you challenging him to a fair dual, I would not interfere, though I might strongly advise against it.  But I cannot let you murder him.  I won’t let you destroy yourself.  If you wish to continue…you must kill me first.”

            Kasela stared at him, her eyes huge, and her breath came in rapid little gasps.  Suddenly with a cry, she drew back her arm and thrust the knife forward.

            Her fist rested on his chest, and he did not move.  For she had slid the knife’s blade up through her hand till only the tip pricked through the side that rested on Eanrin’s breast.

            A sobbing shudder convulsed her body as her final will collapsed.  The knife clattered to the ground.  Eanrin pulled her into one arm and led her away.  The fight seemed to have bled out of her, and she weakly sank into him. 

            “We’re getting out of here,” he said quietly.

They did not meet anyone as they left, for Cozalimar’s was a dying kingdom, and few still lived in his borders.

Eanrin walked the Faerie Paths with more ease then those with sight, and he soon found a Crossing out of Teltethma.  They paused at the joint between worlds, but Kasela offered no resistance, so he stepped over.

            The next instant, they stood in the Wood Between.  Twilight hung over the trees, and an evening fog threaded through the trunks.  The branches and leaves rustled, and a stream whispered a gentle song.

            After some time, Kasela pulled away and stood still, head hanging, fists clenched. She glared at the ground.  “As soon as you leave, I could go right back.  I know my way now.  You won’t always be here to stop me.”

            Eanrin shrugged.

            She didn’t seem to know what else to say.  The Wood watched them with thoughtful eyes.  At last, she turned and walked away.  For a moment she paused and looked back, her black eyes glistening.  “Eanrin…”  Her mouth hung loose for a moment, and then she shut it.  The next instant, she was a snake gliding away into the forest.

            Eanrin stared after her, still trying to calm his racing heart. 

            The Wood was silent and morose, and the light faded to deep amber, the last sunrays the day had to offer.  A slight tenseness hung in the air, a feeling of expectancy.  He frowned, and tuned his senses to pick up if something was wrong…

            “Sir Eanrin.”

            The knight smiled in relief and turned to where the Prince of Farthestshore stood.  The poet dropped to one knee.  “My prince!  I admit you surprised me this time.”  He licked his lips somewhat nervously.  “Um…how long have you been watching?”

            “I am always watching,” the Prince said softly.  “Well done.”

            “Ah…uh…thank you,” Eanrin stammered.  “I wasn’t sure.  Cozalimar is so evil.  I half wanted her to kill him.”

            The Prince’s eyes shone compassionately.  “One day Cozalimar will be stopped.  But not that way and not by her.  You did right.”

            “I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t kill me,” he admitted.  “She seemed so full of hate.”

            “She is full of pain.”

            “Will she ever heal?”

            “I will never give up on her,” the Prince answered.

            This seemed to satisfy Eanrin, and they both lapsed into silence. 

            Then the Prince said, “Eanrin, I have a new mission for you.”

            The bard’s famous smile secured itself back on his face, and he gave a merry laugh.  “Just when I thought my life might get boring,” he teased.

            The Prince laughed with him, and Eanrin continued, “So where next?  Shall I go in search of Felix?”

            “No.”  The Prince shook his head, a warm smile on his mouth.  “I want you to go to Hill House, Southlands.”

            The poet’s brilliant smile almost flickered out.  “Huh?”

            A sober look entered the Prince’s face.  “Prince Lionheart is in despair.  He needs your guidance.”

            Now the smile plunged into oblivion.  “Excuse me?” He coughed; almost gagged.  “Prince WHO?”

            “Lionheart.”

            “But…but…” Eanrin stuttered, completely discombobulated.  “That…that no-good…scoundrel?”

            The Prince smiled again, rather amused.  “Weren’t you just talking to Kasela about letting go of hate?”

            “But…” Eanrin’s voice trailed away, and he scowled. 

            “I need you to help Lionheart.  Will you do this for me?”

            The knight puffed a sigh, but swept a flashy bow, resigned to his fate.  “As you wish.”

            And the next instant, Eanrin stood all alone in Goldstone Wood.  Somewhere, far away, a wood thrush sang.

 THE END

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