I am working hard on book 2.  Even though I have ideas for other books, I plan to finish this series first.  If you like the parts of my book on this blog, please buy the rest on Amazon.  I really need comments and ratings so a publisher or agent will take note and I can finally be published.

Well, I did it.  For anyone out there, and there are a few of you, who want to read the entire story of Max and Megan, you can buy it from amazon for your kindle.  It is only 2.99 and I will definitely not get rich from my paltry percentage of that.  So don't worry about me quitting my day job.  LOL  It should post up in about 12 hours, so it will be available 6/27.  Thanks to everyone who has been reading my excerpts and giving me feedback.  I appreciate you all.

Here's Max ~

Max

Chapter 13

         The men of the kingdom had settled in the eastern parts of Jarosh and built the city of East Haven.  They lived in the fertile pastures of the middle lands and were farmers and shepherds.  They supplied fruits, vegetables, wine, and cloth to the kingdom.  They were average height, usually with black hair and olive skin.  The women were gifted with growing vegetables and were known for their green thumbs.  The men were brave warriors, descended from those who survived the punishing wars of the ogres and giants.  Most people lived in small cottages with larger outbuildings for their animals and tools.  Many men shared fields and helped each other with plowing, irrigation and harvesting.  The men of higher standing had sharecroppers who worked their lands for them and took a share for their own families.  East Haven was smaller and plainer than the great Elven cities or Flint Keep, but there was a school and a convent run by the Shiwas of Mira, Sisters of Mercy in the Elven tongue, the most renowned midwives and healers in all of Jarosh.

The city of East Haven was unique.  The Cyr River, flowing down from Thunder Lake, split into two branches at the northern end of the city.  The King's Branch River flowed to the west of the city, and the Sweetwater River flowed to the east.  The King's Branch was wide and flowed swiftly south, like it was in a hurry to meet the ocean.  The bridge over it, which led to the King's Branch Gate of the city, was made of stone and often crowded with townsfolk and travelers.  Large trading ships came up as far as the bridge, and warehouses and docks covered that part of the city. 

         The Sweetwater was everything the King's Branch was not.  It was narrow and ambled along slowly toward the south like it was enjoying the scenery as it passed by.  The honeysuckle that grew along either bank gave the river it's name.  Any boat lazing down it would be inundated with the smell.  It's water was green and dotted with lily pads.  Many frogs and small fish made it their home.  The bridge over it was made of wood, and it was used mostly by local farmers and hunters.

         At the northern edge of the city, where the rivers split, lived many of the city's poor folk.  They lived in shacks crowded close to each other amongst the pubs and whorehouses the sailors frequented.  Most of the men were warehousemen, sailors, or fishermen, while the women were laundresses, cooks, or seamstresses.   The renowned school of the Shiwas e Mira was on the east end of this part of the city.  The Sisters were known for educating the poor, feeding them, and taking in orphans, as well as treating the sick.  Their school also educated the realm's midwives and tutors.  

         The market was located in the center of town and at the far southern edge near the South Gate were the homes of the wealthier families.  All of the buildings in East Haven were made of wood, save the school, which bricks had been shipped in from the southeast to build.  It was the tallest building in the city, as well, with three floors and a basement.  Some of the buildings were lodges where men went to trade, have meetings, and celebrate all occasions. The wealthy families lived in homes with large gardens full of flowers in spring, and vegetables in summer and fall.  Every year at harvest time, East Haven hosted a festival.  Many from all over the realm came to enjoy the bounty.  Delicious food, sweet wine, and entertainment for all could be found there after the harvest.  

         All of the northern parts of East Haven had flooded in the past.  When the spring was particularly rainy, the rivers would insidiously rise and cover some, or all, of the warehouse district.  The school sat on a rise, which usually protected it during floods.

         Max Harcourt lived in East Haven with his father, Zak, his mother, Rose, and his little sister, Beth.  His mother's grandmother also lived with them; Max called her Amah.  His father was a tradesman.  He bought skins, meat, and crops from the local farmers and hunters.  Then he shipped it, by boat or wagon, all over the realm to other markets to sell.  His mother was a midwife, one of the most sought after in East Haven, especially for difficult deliveries.  Amah would take care of him and Beth while his mother was delivering a baby.

         His father’s warehouse was one of the largest along the river’s shore.  He had more than twenty wagons and three ships to send his goods to markets and harbors throughout Jarosh.  The largest ship, Sweet Beth, even went east of the desert to trade with the cities there.  

What was most different about Max was that he was a half breed.  At least that was what the bullies in East Haven called him when he was on his way to help his father or heading into the woods to hunt.  The really mean ones called him mongrel. Half breed stung, though he was half elf and half man so there was some truth to it, but mongrel made him feel worthless, like an animal.  His father's brother was the Lord of Havenskeep, and his mother was an elf of the Strabelius elves from Highmore. Many years ago, his parents would have been forbidden to marry. His father was even looked down on by his own brothers, John and Robert.  He didn’t really know his aunts, Ada and Andrea, they both lived so far away.  His mother’s family was more accepting. They were always welcome at Highmore.  His little sister could be annoying, but when the girls called her a half-breed, he found himself defending her.  He was almost a man, but picking on a little girl was a different story.

         Max was tall like his father with the same golden hair.  He didn’t have pointed ears like his mother, but he did have sloe eyes that were dark purple, at times almost black.  He was agile and fast.  He could move about the forest without making a sound.  With a bow, he was an excellent shot, and he loved to hunt.  He was also fair with a dagger, but a sword made him feel vulnerable.  It was too long and left him wide open for attack.

         “Amah, how would you like some rabbit for dinner?”  Max asked Amah.

         “Ooo, yes Max, you know Amah loves to eat rabbit stew.  It is easy for my old teeth to chew and so tasty.”

         “I will bring back a brace for you.  I am heading out across the river for some hunting, as soon as I am done helping father.”

         “Stay safe, dear boy.”

         “Amah, I am not a boy.  I am almost thirteen years old.”

         “I want to go, I want to go,” yelled Beth.

         “You can’t go into the forest, silly.  Stay and help Amah.  You will need to help gather vegetables for the stew.”

         Max headed over to the warehouse where his father spent his days. He had to cross the northern side of the city to get there.   Beth never came to this part of the city, but Max was old enough to pass through to help out his father.  His mixed blood, if anything, let him move about unmolested.  He was not looked upon as a rich man’s son to be bothered.  Max made his way through the market square.  It was crowded this early with women buying food for the day.  He heard babies crying and dogs yelping.  Some of the bigger children ran over to beg money from him.  Sometimes, if he had coin he would give it to them, but today, he was completely broke.  The spicy smell of sausage and the sweet smell of honey cakes were making him hungry.  He checked his pockets just to make sure.  A rock and a smashed flower he forgot to give to Amah.  He moved on to the warehouse with his stomach grumbling.  I should have eaten something at home, he thought too late.

         “Father, are you here?’

         “Down here, Max,” his father called from the back room.  The office was down a few steps, and Max slid down the wooden railing.  He saw his father eating a hunk of bread with butter and blackberry jam on it.

         “May I have a piece of bread, Father?”

         His father pushed the bread over to him.  Zak kept his face close shaven, but his hair was in a long braid down his back.  He had laugh lines around his eyes and a ready smile.  He was broad shouldered and muscular, always helping his men load and unload ships and wagons.  His father was known as a fair trader and a friendly man.  He had many friends amongst the elves and his own kind.  The dwarves also liked him, they said he could drink his weight in ale.  Any dwarf would be impressed by that. Max often thought his father looked at him and Beth with a sadness in his eyes.  Maybe he felt guilty about the half breed insults that they had to endure.  Max wasn’t sure, and his father never said.

         “Seems quiet today,” Max said.

         “It will be slow around here for a day or two.  All the ships and wagons are gone, none will return for two or three days, I expect.”

         “So it is fine if I hunt up some rabbits for Amah?”

         “Alone?”

         “Well, yes.  I am almost a man...”

         “Very well, I just wish you would spend time with others, to hunt and explore.”

         “I do hunt with Froggy sometimes.”

         “Froggy from the river?  I know him, but I was thinking maybe your cousin, Isaac, or that boy, Jasper, Sir Powell’s son.”

         “Froggy is more fun than Isaac, but he is working today, so it’s just me.  Besides, Isaac is at Havenskeep, he won't be back until the festival.  Jasper and I don't really get along, he calls Beth names, and he thinks he is too good to be friends with me.”

         Froggy was a poor dwarven boy who lived down near the river’s edge.  He was Max’s age but looked several years younger.  He had gotten the nickname Froggy from capturing frogs in the river to take to the butcher.  He was fast and could catch a basketful easily.  It always left him with some coin in his pocket.  But the best thing about Froggy was he never called Max half breed.

         Isaac was his Uncle Robert's son.  He was often away from the city at his home, Havenskeep.  Max would hunt with him sometimes, when he was in the city, but the two boys were not friends. 

         Jasper Powell was the fat, rude son of Sir Jason Powell, a knight of high standing for his service to the King as Captain of the Castle Guard.  Where the father was brave and honorable, however, the son was arrogant and lazy.”

         “I look forward to our stew then.  See you tonight,” his father looked at him with that sad look, but Max couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

         Max headed for the East Gate to cross the Sweetwater River.  After he crossed, he turned south.  The main woods were to the north; most of the boys from the city went there to hunt.  Max wanted rabbits and solitude; he didn’t want to cross paths with any of the boys from town.  The ground was moist from the morning dew, so he was able to move soundlessly.  The birds were calling and squirrels were playing tag amongst the trees.  These were the old woods, the trees were thick, and animals were plentiful.  The woods west of the city were younger; they had all been cut to build the city when men first came to East Haven.  He didn’t see any rabbits, so he hunkered down on his haunches at the base of a huge, old oak.  Mossy vines hung off its branches reaching almost to the ground.  When Max had been younger and slighter, he had been able to climb them up to the highest branches.  Now that he was growing they would no longer support his weight.  Its trunk was six feet around, and it was over 40 meters tall.  He thought if he waited quietly a rabbit would soon show itself.  He must have dozed off while he waited, because, suddenly, he woke up with a terrible pain in his legs.  It could not be from crouching so long, that had never bothered him before.  He felt like retching, and when he tried to rise, he just fell onto the ground on his side.  Then he heard a roaring in his ears and excruciating pain overcame him as he passed out.  He woke up and sat up, the pain was gone.  He needed some water, but as he stood up, something felt wrong.  He was not as tall as he should have been.  He took a few steps and realized he was not walking on two legs.  He was walking on four legs and his senses were stronger, enhanced.  What was wrong?  He tried to pinch himself, but there were no fingers.  He was an animal?  O my gods, what is happening to me?  He ran to a small pond he knew further in the woods.  He stopped to lap up some water and look at his reflection.  He was a huge cat, a panther, a golden panther.  

         He was afraid, panicked, he ran back into the woods.  He ran for a long time, but running was not changing what he was, so he slowed to a walk, trying to think.  A squirrel crossed his path, and he made it lunch.  He instinctively clawed its neck and made short work of it in two bites leaving tail and head.  He thought he would be disgusted by the raw meat, but it tasted good, the blood in his mouth felt warm and slated his thirst.  

         He stopped to rest and thought back to stories his mother told of elves who could change form.  He was only half elf, but perhaps that was what was happening to him.  He would have to look into it.  But for now, with the fear leaving, he spent the afternoon exploring the woods from his new perspective.  He could see things he could not see as a boy, like birds hiding in the trees and chipmunks running across the forest floor.  The sounds he heard were clearer, sharper, and he could hear noises from a great distance away.  His sense of smell was the most advanced of all.  He could swear he smelled Amah’s lavender oil all the way out here.  He started to become excited and amazed at the things he could do in his new form.  He was moving faster than ever before with nary a sound.  

         Once the sun was near setting, he realized he needed to get home.  How was he to go home?  Was he to stay a cat forever? Would his family wonder what happened to him?  As he neared the river, he laid down beside a tree to think, not long after, the rushing sound came back to him and the blinding pain.  Then, he was Max again.  He ran across the bridge and back through the city to home.  On the way, he realized he had no rabbits for Amah.  

“Amah, Father, I’m back, sorry I got lost.”

“They are in bed Max.  Are you alright?  Amah said you were hunting rabbits?  Look at your clothes, were you rolling in mud and blood?” said his mother.

“Hello, Mother, I never saw any rabbits today.  It's just a scratch or something.”

         “It’s not like you to get lost.  You know the woods so well.  It’s fine about the rabbit, we used chicken in the stew instead. It was still tasty.”

         “Did the baby come?”

         “Yes, all is well at the Wallace’s.  They have a new mouth to feed, a daughter.  She is a healthy little thing.  And pretty like her Ma.”

Max sat down to eat some of the chicken stew.  His mother sat mending one of Beth’s dresses and humming.  He knew why his father had married his mother.  She was beautiful and kind.  Her skin was pale as cream, and her hair was like golden silk hanging down her back.  She had pale blue eyes that twinkled when she smiled, and she was usually smiling or laughing.  Her voice was soft and melodic.  Whenever she was darning or working around the house, she would sometimes sing in Elvish.  Her voice was so clear anyone who heard her was moved.  When Max had been younger, he had loved when she would sing in the evenings.  It always helped him fall asleep.  She had grown up on Highmore in the Hall of Strabelius.  It was an ancient Elven house.  As the fourth daughter of nine children, she had been free to marry as she wished, and she wished to marry Zak Harcourt.  After her father, Elmer, became Lord of the Hall, her grandmother had come to live with them.  Max finished his stew and realized how tired he was.

“Thanks for saving me some stew, Mother.”

         “You are welcome, Max.  Sleep well.”

         “You too,” Max said as he kissed her on the cheek.

Tomorrow he was going to have to go to the library at the Shiwas school.  That was his only chance at getting information about shape shifting.  And, if they had books, he needed to read them all.  He crawled into his feather bed without washing, he was too tired.  His mind was full of confusion and doubt, but his mother's soft voice lulled him to sleep.

         Druelos ramage flicker           Dragons rain fire

         Kriegos ramage dolen           Knights rain death

         Meenwas enuve kriegos        Maidens love knights

         Enuve boni piro                     Love brings peace

Writer's block?

Well, it's funny. I never sat down while I was writing Rightful Heir and came up empty. Now that I have to write summaries of my book to send off to potential agents, my mind is a blank. I dunno if it's nerves or just overwhelming to sum up my story in two to three pages. Once I have the summaries, I plan to send it to three agents. Keep your fingers crossed! I will post a chapter on Max as soon as I get some feedback about what's already posted. Let me hear from you about what you think.

Megan

Chapter 1

Megan Keeley was eleven years old, but tomorrow she would turn twelve. There would be a party, gifts, and most anticipated of all, an announcement. She would find out tomorrow whom her parents had chosen to be her future husband. Her brothers had been playfully teasing her that it would be Benjamin Pridemore, a most pompous little chubby boy from Flickersee. She hoped not, though her choices seemed limited. Max Harcourt was Lord Harcourt's nephew, half elf, but she was unsure her parents would marry her to him. Some, especially the highborn, looked down mixing of the races upon. A Spencer from Allard? One of the Moore's from Highmore? There were so many of them, one was bound to be near her age. Possibly, some other lord's son, or maybe, even a knight's son, if he had been a promising squire. She couldn't even begin to guess.

The marriage contract would usually be made while the children were mere babes. When the girl entered her twelfth year, she would go to live amongst the family of her betrothed. At fifteen, if both she and her intended were in agreement, the wedding would take place. Either, or both, of the young people could refuse the marriage without disgrace or consequence. It was considered poor taste to take a second wife, but it was not forbidden. Most often a second marriage was only contemplated when a child was not born to the couple within a reasonable time, or a wife was physically or mentally incapable of performing her role.

Megan was a tall, slight girl with black hair that hung in long waves, when it was wet it would curl into little ringlets around her face. Her gray eyes were flecked with green and blue, and they sparkled, especially when Megan was happy or angry. Her face was heart shaped, and she had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She had an inner strength that was rare in a girl so young. She was clever and tenacious, which her mother often said was a blessing and a curse.

Her father had named her Megan because it meant "pearl". He told her many times she was his pearl from the sea, the sea that he loved so much. She spent long hours outside with her brothers fishing, shooting a bow, and learning how to sword fight. With four brothers it was hard to spend any time at all on more girlish activities, such as painting or sewing. When Ivy, her brother Aidan's betrothed, had come to live with them more than two years past, she had started spending some of her time in more feminine pursuits, to the relief of her mother.

"Megan?" she heard Fern ask as she came out of her daydreaming.

"Fern?" she replied.

"Well, now that we both know who we are," said Fern smiling, "what is the answer to the question?"

"What question?" replied Megan innocently. Ivy, and her younger brothers, Elijah, Ephraim, and Alex giggled loudly.

"Lessons are over for today. I think someone is too excited to pay attention, so let us call it an early day," said Fern. The boys jumped up and ran from the room shedding shoes and shirts on the way outside. Megan and Ivy walked slower, whispering to each other, but they were no less excited.

"Are you very nervous, Meggie?" Ivy asked. Ivy was the sweet, bubbly girl who would marry Aidan after the harvest festival this year. They made a perfect match; both were quiet and thoughtful, but intelligent and hard working. Megan was close to both of them and knew they loved each other, which was uncommon in many arranged marriages. She was happy for them.

"I am, very, dear Ivy, but I know my parents made the right choice for my future. I am sure of it," replied Megan. "I can't wait for Father to return, two weeks is ever so long not to see him." Megan missed her father when he spent long stretches of time in Ebbs Delage , meaning Tidal Storm in old Elvish. The city was a half days ride northwest of their home, Pennington Bluff. It was large, noisy, and dangerous. Megan had been there many times, but she was always anxious to return home again. She worried for her Father's safety, the sailors were rough and tumble, he seemed so civilized compared to them. As constable in the city, he rendered judgments in court, and she knew sometimes he made the sailors and bandits angry. Mother told her never to worry about him, that he was a strong swordsman, and if he were attacked, there would be no holds barred. Also, his squire, David, was better with a bow than any man she had ever seen. This made Megan feel a little better, if Mother had no fear, then neither should she.

David was the son of Sir Martin York, her father's Captain of the Guard, and his wife, Laura. Laura had died giving birth to David, and all the women at the Bluff helped raise him. Mrs. McCann, the cook, had been his milk nurse, since he was of an age with her youngest son, Pollard. David had wavy brown hair and liquid brown eyes with long lashes. He was unusually tall and muscular like his father, but his face was fair like his mother. When he smiled, he had a dimple in each cheek, and a slight gap in his front teeth. All the girls in Ebbs Delage swooned over him, but he usually acted disinterested.

"Megan, Ivy, Father will be along soon," yelled Aidan. "Let us go out and meet him on the road. The boys will run up the flag and join us." The flag of a keep was only flying when the Lord was at home, so theirs had been in the stable during Father's absence. The Keeley's crest was a brown ship on an ocean blue background. Megan thought it was one of the prettier crests she had seen. The boys would hoist it over the highest tower, so everyone would know the Lord was in residence.

The road to Ebbs Delage ran through the northern gate, while the road through the southern gate went to the town of Allard. The eastern gate looked out over field and forest, while to the west there was no gate at all, only a cliff, over 20 meters high, that went down to the rocky beach below. Inside the black stone walls, there was a Great Hall, the largest west of Highmore, three towers where the family had their rooms, a stable, a kitchen with a garden behind it, the Smith's forge, and a kennel. The black stone of the castle was turning white in spots, from the salty sea breeze constantly blowing against it. Green moss grew up the sides of the walls, making them look older and less well tended than they actually were. The bailey was nearly four acres, large enough for the boys to sword fight, and dogs and children alike to run and play. Each gate also had a small tower for the guardsmen.

Megan thought her home was the most welcoming castle she had ever seen. The views were awe inspiring, the weather was usually warm and comfortable, and all the people she loved lived there with her, Mother, Father, her brothers, and Fern. Fern was more than her tutor, she had been Megan's companion all of her life. She told Fern everything, even things she couldn't tell Mother or Father. Fern was an elf of vast knowledge, though she was still young for an elf, only 36 summers. Elves of the realm regularly lived the span of four or five generations of men.

The girls headed to the stable where they found their horses already saddled and ready. Megan's horse was a small, white stallion named Snow. Megan had named him for the rare spring snow that had fallen the day he was born. She had been there for his birth four years earlier, and girl and foal had bonded deeply. Megan had a gift with animals. Her sweet nature put them at ease, and her compassion made her always ready to fix a broken wing or nurse a cut or other ailment. She would catch a fish now and then, but she was never seen near the kitchen yard when the chickens were killed and cleaned. She didn't have the stomach for it. They headed north on the strip of road all laughing and taking turns at racing each other. A mile outside the keep they saw two horses in the distance.

When the two parties were close enough, Megan took off at a gallop straight on at her father's pretty white mare. Everyone held their breath. She reached out with her right arm while her father reached out with his. When her horse was alongside his and just inches between them, he grabbed her upper arm and swung her into his saddle behind him. It was a trick he had done with his brother when they were just boys, and it made Megan's mother crazy with worry when they did it, but Megan loved it. She knew her father would never drop her, and it was something special that only the two of them shared. It only worked if one, or both, of the riders were very strong, and the horses were familiar enough with each other to trust they wouldn't collide. Luckily, her father's horse was mother to her horse, so all the pieces fit.

Everyone laughed when they were once more successful, and Ephraim yelled, "I will tell Mother." No one was surprised; Ephraim was Mother's favorite.

"Go ahead and tell. You'll just make her worry," laughed Megan. Megan noticed David riding ahead. Usually David rode along with them and talked of their journey, but today he only waved and rode on. He seemed to be hiding something. He had a bundle on the saddle in front of him, and Megan could swear it was moving.

"Are you ready for all the festivities?" her father asked.

"I will never sleep tonight, Father. What did you bring me? Did you bring me something from town?"

"Tomorrow, my wee girl. You will find out all tomorrow."

"I am not a wee girl anymore, Father. I will be betrothed and living in my future husband's home very soon."

"Do not remind me, Meggie. It will be very hard to let you go." Marshall Keeley had a sad look on his face. Megan was his only daughter, and they had always been close. She seemed too young to send so far away. He vowed to himself he would visit her frequently. It was her duty to go, she had an important role in the future of Jarosh.

After dinner, with all the children packed off to bed, Marshall and his wife, Jocelyn, had time to discuss the morrow's festivities.

"Do you think we were right in our decision?" Marshall asked his wife. She looked at him realizing how much she loved him. The mustache and goatee he sported now, made him look mysterious. His dark hair was curly, and he kept it short, unlike many other men of the realm. But, she liked it that way. She could stare into his tan eyes everyday, and there would always be love reflected back at her. He had an athletic build, and he was strong, much stronger than he looked.

"Marsh, did we have any choice? Do you say no to your King? It was a great honor they were willing to wait for a daughter to be born to us. It was that important to him to join our two families."

"I know, I know, but I want her to be happy. I love her so much. She reminds me of you, sweet Jocelyn."

"Yes, and I came here to the Bluff to marry you at the same age Megan is now. Remember? And I have been very happy."

"Well, you hear the rumors. Will he love her, as I love you?"

"I cannot predict the future. But, Marsh, the deal is made and now we must trust, in him and in Megan."

Jocelyn had come from Flint Keep to Pennington Bluff when she was but twelve. Marshall had been an introverted boy, who had barely spoken to any girls outside of his own sister. Jocelyn had a kindness to her nature though, and she brought him out of his shell over time. Her beauty, both inner and outer, won over all the Keeleys, and she was accepted and loved by them. Even Marshall's older brother, Talmage, who was always difficult and the black sheep of the family, had warmed to her before his ship was lost in a storm. His body had never been found.

Marshall's father, Stuart, had died several years before, but his mother, Ila, was still alive. She lived in Ebbs Delage, in the family home there. Marshall's brother Richard, along with his wife, Ada, lived there as well. Richard ran the trading company, and his daughter, Hope, was recently betrothed to Brady Pridemore. She was presently living amongst her new family in Flickersee.

"Now then, where is this gift I have heard so much about?" Jocelyn demanded with a smile.

The two of them walked hand in hand to the stable where David was keeping the puppy occupied. It was a little tan fur ball, chewing on the edge of a pony's blanket and growling a growl that sounded more like a squeak. It was a Wolfhound, a large dog known for its devotion. Marshall hoped it would give Megan some comfort if she was homesick, and some protection, if she were in danger.

"O my gods," laughed Jocelyn, "that child will love this little thing on sight. Come here, you little fireball." Jocelyn scooped up the pup and held it to her face. At first they just stared at each other, and then, the pup stuck out its tongue and licked her. She cuddled it close to her chest.

"Marsh, would you mind....."

"I know what you would say, woman," Marshall laughed. "The pup must sleep cuddled with us tonight?"

"How did you know?"

"I have known you over twenty years. More than enough time to know that look in your eyes."

"David, you chose well. We will see you tomorrow for the celebration," Jocelyn called back, as they walked out of the stable. The couple walked to the bluff where they had been watching the stars together for many years.

"Marshall, I think maybe we should have another child. I am not past age yet, and Alex is getting so big all of a sudden."

"And Megan is leaving us," he said with a frown.

"So, then you would not mind?"

"No, I would not mind, love."

"Good, because, well, we are," Jocelyn said laughing. Marshall picked her up and swung her around.

"I cannot whoop and holler, cause the whole house is asleep. But I am happy, Jocey, truly happy." Jocelyn still had a slim figure, even after birthing twins. Her black hair remained lustrous and thick. Her eyes were gray like her daughter's, but her flecks were darker almost black. She had an exotic face with large eyes and full lips. No one who saw her could deny her beauty. Marshall kissed her softly, and she pulled him close.

Megan had told her father the truth earlier in the day. She couldn't sleep. She sat in her window seat looking over the sea. It was her favorite spot in the whole world. During the day the view was so beautiful, and the sea breezes always brought the salty sea smell to her window. At night, when she couldn't sleep, she would sit and examine the stars and dream of her future. She wanted the love of a brave man and children, maybe a lot of children. Right now, her parents were far below her walking along the bluff, their laughter, carried up to her by the breeze, sounded like wind chimes. They were hugging. On her tongue was only one prayer, please, please let her and her betrothed love each other like that.

All my life I was an avid reader.  I always thought "I can write a book".  Over many years of trying, I ended up with poetry and short stories, but no book.  Last year I turned fifty and again sat down with an idea.  This time my short story kept getting longer and longer.  Finally, I said I think I am writing an actual book.  So after over 300 pages and 95,000 words, I decided that the book was complete.  Luckily, the story was not over.  I am working on book two right now.  I will occasionally post chapters to read.  Please tell me which characters you like, or which you like to hate.

Prologue: Rightful Heir

Prologue

         The young woman sat astride her horse on the cliff overlooking the harbor with the breeze blowing her skirt around her legs.  She knew the view in the light of day would have been breathtaking.  She had ridden here many times with the wind blowing her hair and the warm sun touching her back.  To her left was the salty, sapphire water of the Channel of Bones, with the green hills of the Isle of Bones beyond that.  To her right was Capital Bay, and right in front of her was the King’s city, Flickersee, with it's towers, cupolas, and colorful flags. 

         Flickersee, in old Elvish, meant fire city.  The white wall around the city stood thirty meters high at its tallest and had three main gates, the Royal Highway Gate, which opened out onto the main highway of the realm, the Harbor Gate, opening to the southern harbor district, and the Sunset Gate, in the western wall.  The thread of fire that followed the tops of the walls around the city gave a vermilion glow to the white of the walls and towers.  Outsiders claimed the eternal fire was controlled through magic, but those who lived within the castle knew that it was rope, soaked in oil, constantly replaced by a small army of flicker gerros, fire guards.

         The waters of the channel were usually calm, but tonight there was drizzle and a steady wind, that caused small waves to roll across the water.  Nothing harder than drizzle had fallen on the kingdom in a long time.  The drought had brought hardship to everyone, particularly the farmers.  The woman’s long black hair dampened into little ringlets around her face.  Whitecaps swelled in the channel, and when the moon cast its light, the tips of the waves looked like sparkly jewels shining in the black water.  The moon peeked out of the clouds now and then allowing her to see the three masted schooner far below making for the Strait of Delage, or Storms.  Her face was composed as she patiently waited.  By looking at her, no one would have known that her future, and that of her unborn child's, rested on what would happen next.

         At just the right moment, the clouds separated, allowing her to see the two gunboats leave the dock.  Each boat held six cannons, and in a battle, their muzzles could launch half a dozen flaming balls per hour.  They were the most dreaded ships afloat, fast and, ultimately, deadly.  She held her breath, and when the cannon balls hit the schooner, tears rolled down her cheeks.  The ship became a floating bonfire for a few short minutes.  The sails of the ship, with the King's Crest of a black falcon on a yellow background, burned bright and fast.  The wood of the ship was still ablaze as it started to sink.  Steam rose off the water as the ship turned tail and disappeared into the black depths.

         The woman turned her horse south, and rode to the Royal Highway, where the wagon was waiting.  With only one month left until the child would come, she dare not ride too swiftly, as early labor would put all their plans in jeopardy.  She trusted her three traveling companions with her life.  They had only had a few days to prepare, but she knew that all would be as she requested.  The female, an elf, was her confidante and lifelong companion.  The two men were both skilled swordsmen.  One, her Captain of the Guard, had size enough to keep most bandits at bay.  His sword was over a meter long.  It was crafted of obsidian steel, tempered by ancient dwarven blacksmiths, centuries ago.  Many men would not be able to lift it, let alone wield it in battle.  The other was younger, but no less talented; he kept an iron sword on each hip.  The horse she had been riding was tied to the wagon, while the woman climbed into the back.  They had laid a feather mattress in the wagon bed to try to make her comfortable, and there were oranges, apples, and a loaf of bread.  They pulled a large skin over the back to hide her and tied it in place.  Her faithful dog walked alongside them.  She offered up a prayer to the gods for her child's safety, and the journey began.