Guardians of the Path Omens

Omens teaser V – The Guardians Hall

The Guardians of the Path Omens, published by Witching Hour Publishing, IS TO BE RELEASED IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS! (I appologize for shouting, but it’s really very exciting for a writer to have a third novel out).

And here is the final bit for you to enjoy before the whole book comes out.

I have nothing to say about writing particularly, except possibly the most neglected write tip of all time: write. Write your heart out. Write at midnight. Write outside. Write listening to music (or not listening to musci) or drinking coffee (or not drinking coffee). Write what you’d like to read and have fun. If you’re not having fun, you’re doing something wrong, because trust me, writing is the easiest part of publishing a novel! Cheers 🙂

As they passed through the great doors, the chill of the rift made the hair on Jæyd’s arm stand on end, and the flute in her hand burned hotter, warming her flesh. Luca frowned and even Timo looked put out. The halls were silent and dusty.
“I have taken up residence in the East Wing,” Jæyd told them. “It is more intact than the rest.”
They nodded, glancing around at the tomblike interior, the air thick and pressing.
“How is the library?” Cedar asked suddenly.
Jæyd grimaced. “Only a little better than the Garden. Last I checked, the roof had caved in at the back, and the glass in the windows blew out. The elements have not been kind to the books. I am sorry.”
Cedar was disheartened by the news. The last project he had been working on before he was called away was the restoration of the grand library. Luca slapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry too, but I am not as gullible as Chesco was, so I won’t be helping you haul those book about,” he told Cedar. “But I think the exercise will be good for you.”
He walked on ahead, ascending the stair with light steps, throwing open the double doors to the East Wing. The others crowded close behind him. Jæyd noted that he still smelled like peaches. The long passage was dim, the only light coming from tiny slits up close to the ceiling. Silver motes floated on paths of light.
“I think it would be more fitting to move to the Guardians’ Hall,” Cedar said, his face wistful and eager.
“That place is not so hospitable,” Jæyd warned. “And it holds bad memories.”
“Then let us air it out with good ones,” Timo’s deep voice chimed in from behind. “We should not delay in returning the Torch.”
“Very well,” Jæyd acquiesced, but for a reason unknown to her a heavy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
Her feet followed a path she did not recognize. The passages and stairways of the Crescent Temple had minds of their own sometimes. Jæyd never did remember coming this way, though she knew that she had been within the Guardians’ Hall many times. The way was unfamiliar but that did not matter. The Temple wanted her to find the way to the Guardians’ Hall, and so it took her there.
They crowded into the vast room through the narrow passage. When she stepped into the Guardians’ Hall and gazed at it stretching out in all directions, the breath caught in Jæyd’s throat. The walls and floor were blackened with Demon soot. Two sets of footprints were still in the dust on the floor from when Jæyd and Luca had come through here before going to meet Cedar in D’Ohera, lonely signs of life in a dead world. The columns were silent guardians in their own right.
“It’s so large,” S’Aris said, her head tilted back as she gazed at the ceiling. “In the writings at the Coven, it describes the Hall, but I’d never imagined it was so big.”
“Writings?” Jæyd inquired.
“Letters and such from V’Ronica,” the Witch explained. “And the journal she kept. The First Guardian sent it back with her effects, after she died.”
A moment of silence met her words as the Hall remembered the Witch V’Ronica and her deeds. Whispers of her voice flitted through the air, ghosts of her form danced among the shadows. Memories that were as tangible as the stone the Hall was built of passed through their minds, foreign and lonesome. The Guardians were accustomed to this, but the others were disquieted.
“Where did the Torch stand?” Berria asked, her voice strained.

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Look for Omens and more awesome books published by Witching Hour Publishing, available now and available soon (as in, tomorrow!).

❤ ❤ Dragonbeck

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Cats and Ghosts, Monsters or Aliens

Hello there!

Time is moving along, as it does.

Hope everyone had an enjoyable All Hallow’s Eve  🙂

In just under a month, my third novel, Omens, will be published. I’ll be sending out another teaser in a few days here, and you can get the first two books in the Guardians of the Path series, First Magyc and Ria’s Mark on amazon.

In the meantime, here are the final two exercises from the last ISG meeting. Enjoy!

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cat, room, phalanx

Jemma attempted to get past the phalanx of cats waiting to be fed, but she
almost tripped over one of them, and an ear-splitting yowl informed her that she
had stepped on a paw or a tail. “It’s your own bloody fault!” she muttered,
sliding her feet across the floor to minimize casualties, and somehow made it
across the room to the where their food was kept. The bowls on the bench all had
names on them, but it hadn’t taken more than a day for Jemma to give up on
trying to give the cats the right bowl. They knew which was there however, so
she filled them, set them on the floor, and the cats wandered through until they
found the right one.
“That’s not really normal behavior for cats,” Jemma said to herself as she
watched the animals feasting. “Though I suppose for a person to have this many
cats isn’t really normal either.” She counted again – her deepest fear as that
she would misplace one, or one would run out the door. How would she explain
that to Mrs. Black when she returned from her holiday in Romania? “Only three
more days to go,” Jemma said, crossing her arms and smiling. “I can keep it
together for that long.”
The room went oddly quiet and she looked down to find all seventeen pairs of
feline eyes fixed on her, with what look disconcertingly like knowing smiles on
their faces.
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handle, alien, whimper (my word)

He reached for the handle and was about to touch the metal when a whimper from
behind him stayed his hand. He looked around, and saw that Robbie had followed
him up the stairs.
“I told you to wait outside,” Harvard said.
Robbie shook his head fiercely and ran to Harvard’s side.
“Fine, but stay behind me,” Harvard ordered.
He opened the door and peered into the old bedroom. It looked as if it had been
unused for many years, white sheets covered the furniture, and Harvard imagined
shapes that could be ghosts, monsters, or aliens lurking underneath them.
“She said it was in here,” he muttered to himself, gripping Robbie’s hand
tightly. He took a tentative step into the room, looking left and right and
trying not to pay attention to the feeling that was telling him something was
going to come leaping out at him any second now.
“It was supposed to be in a box, but I don’t see any boxes, do you?” Harvard
asked, looking down at Robbie.
The small boy gave the room a quick glance and pointed with his free hand.
There, under a mirror whose cover had half fallen off revealing the smudged
glass, was not a box but a wooden chest. Harvard started towards it when the lid
shuddered, and opened.

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For more awesome stories you can get your copy of the Ink Slingers Guild’s fifth annual anthology Serenity Rising in paperback and ebook on amazon.com 🙂

❤ DragonBeck