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Road of a Warrior Pre-release

It’s here!! Well almost. Road of a Warrior, The Silvan Book II is now available on Pre-release. No preview yet, of course but if you read book one, then you’ll want the rest of the story. That cliffy was pretty evil, even by my standards.

So please, make an author happy today and get your copy now. It’s only 0.99C for the first few days so don’t miss out on the special launch price and of course, by getting it today, you are helping to get the book as far up the charts as it can be for launch date, when your copy will magically download. That will be Saturday 28th April.

You can join the Facebook party here: Facebook Launch Party Sign UP

I am actively seeking volunteers to read and review, hopefully prior to publication date. Please leave your comments below if you are interested in receiving a free kindle copy. If you enjoy the story and would like to leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, BookBub or wherever, I would love you even more than I already do 🙂

I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.

Fantasy Map of Bel’arán

At last! I have my own fantasy map and I am thrilled with it. There are hours of painstaking work here, each tree hand-drawn and it makes me shiver to think how patient Mr. Hector G. Airaghi needed to be when creating this map.

Map_BelAran_web

Of course there is that little detail of how many hours we Skyped and how many things we changed and added, but it was all worth it. If you want to take a closer look, click here. Map of Bel’arán

The map will soon be added to Book I of The Silvan Trilogy – Path of a Novice, and of course will also be in Book II – Road of a Warrior – launching 28th April.

So what do you think? Love it? Hate it?

Blog Tour Nightmare

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I should be excited, I mean trembling with the excitement of launching my second book, dreaming of making it big and swimming in dosh. But what am I actually doing? I am cowering in the corner, trying desperately not to look at the long list of websites that claim to know exactly which Blog Tour I should hire to promote my launch.

This psychological condition has an origin, of course, and that would be my first Blog Tour. OK, I was a complete ignoramus on the subject – still, I read all the articles, followed the tips, did it all, except maybe check out the provider’s past success, contact other authors that had contracted the same service. Duh….? OK, I admit it; mistake!!!

BlogTour-300x253So here I am, one year later thinking, is it actually worth it? I know a lot of writers don’t do Blog Tours but I suspect they are the ones with the time and/or knowhow to do it themselves, you know, painstakingly select and then approach the blogs they want to appear on. Sorry mate, that’s just not my forte unfortunately. So off I go, in search of even more lists on the top Blog Tour providers, blogs with the biggest readerships, best blogs in the fantasy genre …. funny though, because the service I used last year keeps popping up, recommended. Eh… ? You know I didn’t get one ‘like’, not one ‘comment’; no Facebook follows or likes, no Twitter likes or follows – what?? Is that even possible?

So now, some of you might be thinking, ‘yeah, that’s because your book is sh^?”$%&!’, right? Of course I’m going to say no way.  OK, I am not a promo geek but I have 16 humble reviews on Amazon, most of which are 5 star (verified, yes), and 30 ratings on Goodreads with an average of 4.63. So what went wrong with the first tour? Fake blogs created simply for publicity purposes (not the client’s obviously), blogs with no followers like mine?

So, Google searching is not helping because most ‘help’ sights are just selling their buddies’ or clients’ services and I just can’t seem to find the nitty gritty place that actually rates Blog Tours based on customer reviews. Does that even exist? I would pay to see that.

So, I am wondering, do any of you guys have a recommendation? A place you know works for the fantasy genre? I know I am not going to get mega sales with a book tour; all I want is to get the book out there, get some interaction, some follows, sign ups for my mailing list, Facebook likes, a sign that someone out there is seeing my book – is that asking too much?

Please leave your comments. Even if you don’t have a recommendation, tell me about your own experience with blog tours. I’d be really interested to compare.

OK, back to the research – I really hate this.

Ariella’s Escape

Way to go, Carolee

Queen's end

By: CAROLEE CROFT

*Fiction – Adventure – Adult *   Pages – 171 – Release – 2017

From the very beginning I was captivated by Ariella, Baroness of Leduryon.
Strong women are very much touted in today’s world, and this capable heroine of an imagined yesterday is a fierce warrior on the field, and a fierce lover in bed.

Sent on a diplomatic mission to Chaldea by Queen Esclairmonde of Dezearre, Ariella is a classy ambassador with a mighty sword. Upon her arrival, Ariella is greeted with a gift from King Acheron. His name is Demetrius. His handsome face, and fantastic body are outshone only by his pulsating and loving desire for Ariella. He is hers for the three nights of her visit.

Unfortunately, tragedy strikes after the first evening’s delicious encounter. After Ariella and Demetrius’  first passionate tryst together, diplomacy comes to an abrupt halt. Ariella and Demetrius are forced…

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Book Launch 28 April. Road of a Warrior

It’s official. Road of a Warrior will launch Saturday 28th April, 2018. Please check out the event page. I’d love to see you there on Facebook for a chat, a drink and if you like, to discuss book one and what’s coming in book 2.

Road of a Warrior Book Launch Event on Facebook

2017-1044 3d render book on transparentIf you haven’t read book 1, stay tuned. It will be going free on Amazon very soon. If you are a reviewer and would like to receive an ARC, please let me know. Copies should be available by mid March at the latest. Also, please feel free to participate in any other way you see fit, I’d love to hear your suggestions.

Idernon of Lan Taria

 

Idernon of Lan Taria; the Wise Warrior

 

Ah yes, the Wise Warrior. Such an enigmatic child he was, as many still remember, although they would, perhaps, use an alternative rendition; strange, outlandish, nutty, perhaps.

Born in the same year as Fel’annár and Ramien, the three children became fast friends and all day long, they would frolic amongst the trees, oblivious to the indulgent and conspiring smiles of their elders. Sliding down mighty branches they fired imaginary bows into doomed Sand Lords and unwitting Deviants. Great wars were unleashed between the exposed roots of the oaken sentinels, a branch in one hand and a twig in the other. Fallen logs were battle chargers and loamy river banks were the snow-laden slopes of the mighty Median Mountains.

But mostly, the three children would dream, that one day they truly wouldfight together, defend Ea Uaré, land of the Silvan elves. Their chargers would not be fallen logs but great white steeds from the green hills of Prairie, their weapons not twigs and branches but finely wrought bows and swords, and their uniforms not loose linen tunics and baggy pants but exquisitely crafted leather and silk, shiny boots and silver buckles.

Oh, the dreams they shared, the plans they made! We still remember their childish shrieks and giggles, back when they were still blissfully unaware of the horrors of war, when Deviants were simply monsters and not the ruined bodies of mortals who could not fathom death.

They would, indeed, be warriors, but it soon became apparent that Idernon’s mind was sharp – extraordinarily so. He began to question the statements of others, refute their arguments, even those of the imperious school master, the haughty and aloof Dumon, much to his mother’s embarrassment, and secret delight I always suspected. Idernon would correct them all and when brought to task he would explain – flawlessly. He made no excuses for mortifying them, was unstoppable in his quest to correct the world at the expense of any who dared use faulty reasoning in his presence.  He could reduce Dumon to a shaking, jabbering, red-faced volcano and I always respected the boy for such a feat although I would never tell him, of course.

In his free time, Idernon would sit and read, read, read. Every book on philosophy, on faulty reasoning, on refuting, on ethics and fallacies, every morsel of knowledge that was to be had in our humble library had been borrowed by the infant philosopher, and promptly devoured, as fiercely as Fel’annár used to gulp his pea soup, and let me tell you that was a sight.

His poor father, I say. He had dreamed of passing on his knowledge of forestry to his only child, but the boy would not have it. He would stand firm and scowl, blue eyes glittering a warning, arms crossed in stubborn refusal, like an ass unwilling to cross a stream.  He would not accompany his father into the woods, for there were stories to read, no sages to understand and revere, no fallacy that could be unravelled and expounded.

Other children laughed at him, called him snoutband, but he would simply cock an eyebrow at them and ask them to explain the wherefore of their supposed humour. He was no fun, they decided, an utter cumberworld and eventually, much to the boy’s hidden relief, they left him to his own, weird devices. Fel’annár and Ramien loved him as a brother, and that had always been enough for Idernon. The three boys had sworn an oath no sooner they could speak; always together, The Company. Idernon needed no more, wanted no more.

Erthoron, Silvan leader of Lan Taria, once travelled to the city centre and there he had begged the king to concede books for their humble Silvan village. Their somewhat absent monarch had granted permission, under the supervision of his own librarians for he would not concede the more valuable tomes. Pleased with his efforts, Erthoron promptly hired a cart for the journey back, his treasure resting under oiled cloth.

     Now let me tell you that his arrival in Lan Taria was a day the villagers would never forget, indeed neither will I. I laughed and laughed until my bladder warned me and then begged me stop whilst the others stood open-mouthed and Idernon’s red-faced mother cringed, seeming almost to shrink into her cloak as her eyes darted from one neighbour to the next, bracing herself for their witty comments she would surely not appreciate.

Idernon, upon catching sight of their beaming Village Leader and deducing what lay below the protective cloth of his cart, launched himself into the nearest birch, ran along the lowest hanging branch and then vaulted into the air, arms and legs splayed like a cat in flight, auburn hair flying around him. He landed upon the books as a fruit bat descends from the heights, eyes wide, breath too fast, pants riding too low and revealing the top of his bare backside, not that the boy cared for there were books and where to start – where to start!!!! Idernon was a trembling ball of pent up energy, hands clasping desperately at the bound leather lest it disappear before his very eyes.

   Idernon was not seen for weeks, until his friends finally decided to wrench him from his reading lest his eyeballs shrivel – indeed only they could achieve such a thing, for if this wise child loved reading as much as he did, so too was he a member of The Company – a warrior.

Incompatible, you may say, for what has a philosopher to do with a warrior? The child himself would calmly explain the relationship he so clearly saw. To fight, to kill, to defend the Silvan lands of Ea Uaré; there was a reason for it. Why do we fight? Is the purpose a noble one? Is it good and fair that we should kill? Can it ever be justified? He had decided that it could, had reasoned it all out in his mind and asked us if it was not as clear as day, that without philosophy one could not rightly justify his deeds. To act one must first think and think well. Some would stare back at him blankly and Idernon would simply shrug and then call them boil-brained.

One day, much later in life, Fel’annár decided that each member of The Company would have a warrior name, one that would define them in some way, and for Idernon there had never been any doubt. Amidst the giggles of adolescent children, Fel’annár baptised Idernon as the Wise Warrior, venerable archer and philosopher of The Company.

But come, look at him. Can you see the wisdom in his eyes? the determination upon his face? He will need these things for what is to come, believe me, for I shall chronicle those events and I would be mighty pleased if you deemed my words worthy of your regard.

Let us hope Aria sees fit to preserve him, return him to us, his proud people of Lan Taria.

 

Marhené: The Silvan Chronicles, appendix IV

The Silvan Chronicles

©2017 R.K. Lander. All rights reserved

 

Preamble

 

My name is Marhené. I am a scribe, a chronicler, or as some would call me, fondly I hope, a meddling fool. Whether I truly am a fool, well, I admit to having called myself thusly on many occasions during my life. As to ‘meddling’, I have no doubt at all – I am most certainly that – for how else is a historian to come by her knowledge?

Now why they gave me an Alpine name I frankly cannot say; perhaps it has something to do with my nose? Or perhaps it is because I was always drawn to dark clothing. Personally, I believe myself to be as Silvan as they come, for you see, I am from the Deep Forest, the ancestral home of the Silvans. Here, our accent is still thick, like our heads so say the Ari’atór brethren. Our customs remain unchanged with the passing of years and our smiles are still wide and wholesome, never an emotion to second-guess.

 

 

Lan Taria – Land of Light. ‘Tis truly a place of light despite the towering trees we live amongst, graced with a natural beauty, you know; a jewel upon the forest map, a shining beacon to all those intrepid adventurers whose fingers may pose upon our namesake, or who should wander unwittingly into our domain.

There are no Sand Lords here, no Deviants or Insipients, yet how long it will remain thusly I cannot rightly say – who can I ask you? for there is nothing written on our future, and the times are changing, they are sliding into darkness – Hwindo has said it is so, Aria keep him safe.

 

 

Now then. Who would have said, mind, that in this very village, the greatest warrior our land has ever seen would be born? ‘Tis an honour we all carry with us wherever we go, and when polite conversation requires we state our origins, we smile, wide and joyous for we, are of Lan Taria, we share the land of Fel’annár. It is our claim to fame for we are his people, we are the elves who watched him grow, who shared the secrets that shrouded his begetting in a haze of Silvan conspiracy. But of that I will not speak, for who can say who may read these, my humble thoughts …

And so, we come to the purpose of these chronicles, finally! as some of you are no doubt thinking; I do tend to digress, my friends, as you will all soon see. Perhaps it is why I shall never be a great scribe and that is fine with me. Yet neither am I a bad one, or so I say, indeed I believe this, new project to be most commendable in that so far, to the best of my knowledge, no one has put to paper the life and times of the warriors of The Company.

The Company, you may ask? Is it possible that you have not yet heard of them? I doubt it – if you are Silvan that is – but I must think bigger, perhaps, for what if this chronicle should be read by King Thargodén? Or the Alpine sovereign Vorn’asté?  or the Master Scribes of Pelagia? It may be my only chance for fame, not that that is my goal, my friends, for it is not.

And so, I will begin my chronicles with the hope that the warriors of The Company will be remembered, that nobody forget these, extraordinary soldiers and should my humble person be remembered as the proud scribe that wished to proclaim their valour to the four corners of Bel’arán, then I am content with that. Not that I seek fame, mind.

But doubt assails me, for where to begin, I wonder? There is so much to record, so much I would have remembered and forgive me, but the baggage is heavy and my mind befuddled with the enormity of the task I have set myself. Saddle goose, you may call me but when you have read, and understood, perhaps your expletives will wax kind and understanding.

Now… ah yes – the wine has sharpened by brain although no doubt not for long …

Fifty-two years ago, three children were born in Lan Taria, land of light. One, was a strapping great lad, another was utterly beautiful and the third – the third child was wise…

Marhené

 

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