Book Release Announcement! (The Sehret Chronicles #3: The Survivor)

The time has come -- the day is here...

One book more!

...Okay, I shall now switch out of Broadway musical mode and get to the point of my post. You may have noticed that I have not been very active on here for the past several months. There is a reason for this -- I have been hard at work getting the third book of The Sehret Chronicles publication-ready. It's taken up a lot of my time, attention, and energy, and I am pleased to announce that at last, there is a third book on the market!

The Survivor, formerly known as The Rescuer, picks up directly where the first book, The Follower, left off. Here's the back-cover blurb, for more info:

The ragtag group thrown together by a cave-in in 'The Follower' have reached the surface of the Rhenor mountains, and have plotted their course to Delnam, where they will part ways at last. Their adventure takes them through the hostile Kirat territories, but as long as they keep to themselves and are careful to avoid the locals, they expect to reach their destination safely.

When Zarea Kal, a Kirat runaway, brings her pursuers crashing down on the camp, the group united by circumstance is rent apart once more. Now those taken captive must fight for their freedom, and those already free must survive long enough to set things right.

But even with their enemies occupied, the battle for their souls and sanity still rages, and demons -- either real or of the mind -- refuse to retreat into the shadows that spawned them.

The battle for survival is not over. It has only just begun.

This release has been three years in the making, but at last it is here, and the book is now live at the links located at the bottom of this post (you can read what's written above it, or skip ahead -- it's up to you).

Not sure you're interested based on that description alone? Here's a sneak peek from the beginning of the book:

----------------------------

Prologue

The man looked dead, but it was hard to be sure. In the light of the dying lantern above him, his face was blank, his eyes shut, and his chest too obscured for Zarea Kal to be sure it was not moving. The keys at his belt swayed and glittered like jewels, tantalizing her in a way no true gem ever could. She watched them with eyes wide, her bow primed to notch and let loose another arrow if the man rose.
Beside her, Darek whispered, “What are we waiting for?”
Zarea silenced him with a wave of her hand, and her eyes flitted about the area. A small camp, three men guarding it, none well-armed. Their chest of supplies sat open to the air, dragged out earlier by the largest of the three to allow for easier access during the supper hour. That might have been wise, considering how much they ate from it. But they'd never bothered to drag it back into the tent.
And that was their mistake.
The brawny guard still did not stir, but Zarea thought she heard him mumble something unintelligible, and she released a shaky breath. The man was alive, and she lacked the nerve to change that. Hopefully, he would have the decency to stay unconscious until they were gone. She notched another arrow and rose to a crouch. “Let's go.”
Darek nodded, and they advanced. Zarea led the way into the camp and slowed her step as she approached the man she'd shot. The sedative-coated arrow that pierced his shoulder remained in place, and Zarea's eyes flitted to the wound before she forced them to move away. She dropped by his side and fumbled with the knot that tethered the keys to his belt. She grabbed at what she thought was the right end to loosen it and yanked.
The keys jangled.
“Kali!” The hissed nickname made her look up. Darek gestured wildly to his belt and glanced at the tent nearby.
Of course. Zarea pulled a knife from her belt and began to saw. A few heart-jolting clanks later, she pulled the keys free.
A breeze blew through, and the corner of one of the tent flaps flipped enough for Zarea to see inside. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of the two sleeping men inside.
She inhaled deeply and pulled an arrow from her quiver, then held it in her left hand like a dagger while gripping the keys tightly in her right. Darek rushed to her side and took the keys, then moved swiftly to the chest of supplies. After several agonizing moments of peering into the lock, of sticking one key after another into it without success, finally there was a click and he pulled the key free. He glanced at Zarea and lifted the lid.
Zarea’s breath caught at the sight of the contents. Stores of dried meat, of bread, and even a bag of dried berries sat before them. They were not much to look at, but she could not turn away, and her mouth watered. How pathetic that she should desire these withered old morsels after seventeen years of having plenty without having to lift a finger.
Darek rifled through the chest to see if there was anything else of use, then gestured to Zarea and mouthed, “The bag.”
Zarea rushed back to their hiding spot and snatched up the empty satchel she'd left there. A few stale crumbs fell to the ground, and she left them for the men to find. She and Darek stuffed as much as they could into the satchel, stuffing a fair amount into their mouths, as well.
The food stuck in Zarea’s throat, and she coughed, then froze wide-eyed. She waited for the men to wake up, to rush out and see who it was that was coughing on their precious food. But no-one came.
Darek’s eyes were equally wide, his lips cracked as he whispered, “Water. They must have some.”
Zarea tried to think. If she were these men, traveling through the plains in the dry season, where would she keep a precious commodity such as water? Not in this chest – she knew that already. She would want it nearby, easy to reach when the need for refreshment hit her.
Her eyes strayed to the tent, through the flap as it waved in the wind, and she caught sight of something that might be a jug by the larger man's bedroll.
Darek followed her gaze, and his face turned ashen as he shook his head. “No, Kali. They'll wake up.”
“We need water.” Her knees wobbled, but she forced them to hold her up as she crept to the tent and pulled back the flap. She caught her breath as the light fell through the crack, all the way to the jug and the man sleeping beside it. He stirred.
A pair of hands clapped over her mouth and yanked her back from the tent. She gasped, fumbled for the knife sheathed inside her tunic.
“Keep still,” a familiar voice hissed in her ear. “I'm not going to hurt you.”
Zarea ripped herself free of Darek’s grasp. “If you grab me again, I'll stab you.”
“Go in there, and they'll kill us both.” Darek lifted the full satchel of food. “Please, Kali – we have enough for a while. We'll reach the mountain soon, and when–”
“Stop telling me what to do,” Zarea snapped, snatching her confiscated longknife from his grasp. She lifted her chin imperiously. “I give the orders here, remember? We need water, and I'm getting it. Now stand guard.”
Darek opened his mouth to protest, then clamped it shut and pulled his own bow free, notching an arrow as he nodded and raised it to its ready position.
Zarea took a deep breath and, with her knife raised, stepped into the tent. Every breath the sleeping men took, every twitch or mumbled word made her jump, and she had to fight the urge to turn and run as fast as her legs would carry her. She reached the big man's side and held her breath, afraid the slightest noise would bring about sudden death. She saw the jug, about eight inches tall, and nearly as wide, just past the stranger's head. She tensed, took a careful step, placed her foot mere inches away from his head, certain he would wake and sweep it out from under her. Still his snores filled the tent.
The jug was inches away now. All she had to do was lean a bit, reach out, pull it ever so carefully over his head, and...
The jug’s weight knocked her off balance, and before she could so much as reach out to stop herself, she fell and found herself sprawled over the man's brawny chest.
And that was when he gasped, his eyes flew open, and he threw Zarea back as he groped for his sword. “What...”
Across the tent, his companion stirred. Zarea slugged the man beside her and, in the split-second before he could react, snatched his smaller water canteen from beside him and took off. Hands reached for her. She pulled away, dove out of the tent. Footsteps shuffled behind her and pounded into the open.
An arrow whizzed free of Darek’s bow, and Zarea heard a strangled cry as it hit home. She dashed forward to join Darek, but stumbled and bumped against his arm, and another arrow flew loose, far off-course. It hit the ground beside the larger man, who snatched it up as though it were a child's dart thrown too far from its target. Darek stepped backwards, fumbled for the knife on his boot.
The big man swung the arrow at him. Darek ducked, cried out, used the man's weight against him to throw him to the ground, and fell with him.
The less imposing man charged at Zarea. Fear had stolen away her sense of forethought – with a flick, her knife flew, and the man fell. Zarea gasped, her hand at her mouth. She hadn't meant to throw it. She didn't even know where she'd hit him.
Darek's cry of pain drew her attention back to the fight on the ground. Zarea turned, notched an arrow.
She needn't have bothered. Darek swung a fist, and the man cried out, freeing him. Zarea did not have time to process what had happened before Darek grabbed her wrist and yanked at it. “Run!”
Zarea barely managed to retrieve the food satchel as Darek dragged her along with him at top speed. Soon they put a fair amount of distance between them and the camp, and Zarea wondered why the big man hadn't followed them. Why had he not mounted one of his horses and taken off after them by now?
But she knew why, and the reason made her double over retching.
Darek stumbled from the sudden stop and fell to his knees a few feet away.
“I killed him,” Zarea gasped, unbelieving. “Darek, I killed that man.”
Darek did not answer, and at once Zarea noticed that his breathing was different, quivering, punctuated with gasps and suppressed groans. She stumbled over to him. “Darek, what...?”
That was when she saw the blood.
Her eyes grew wide. “He stabbed you!”
“It’s fine,” he rasped. His eyes were full of pain, but he set his jaw in determination. “Just a scratch... Caught me off-guard.”
“That is not a scratch,” Zarea snapped. “We have to find help.”
“The mountain,” he coughed.
Zarea groaned. “Hang the mountain – I never want to hear of it again!”
“The mountain, Kali,” Darek insisted. “There are places there, places to rest, find water, and herbs to treat wounds. We can find them.”
“This was a mistake.” Zarea blinked back tears and fought to keep a stern edge to her voice. “Darek, I was wrong. We never should have left home. We need to go back. We need to find my mother and tell her–”
“We’d never make it,” Darek said firmly, his voice stronger than before. His blue eyes pleaded with her brown ones. “We’ve gone too far into the wilderness. We can't turn back now.”
Zarea shook her head violently. “No. We can make it, and once we're home–”
“We’d die before we got there, or they’d kill me. And I’m not sending you off on your own.” Darek gripped her hand tightly, using his free hand to push against the ground for support to sit upright. He grimaced as the pain overtook him again. “Help me walk.”
She helped him to his feet, and for several steps, he leaned heavily on her as he tried to regain his bearings. But at last, he nodded and released his hold on her shoulder. “Let go. I can do it on my own.”
“You're sure?”
He nodded, still pale, his expression tormented as he lifted his eyes towards the looming Rhenor mountains. “Let's get going.”

----------------------------

If you'd like to read a longer excerpt, go the Smashwords page for the book and download a sample there (the first 20% of the book, completely free to read), or read up through the beginning of chapter two here.

Paperback Links:

Amazon

CreateSpace
Barnes & Noble

E-Book Links:

Amazon
Barnes & Noble

Smashwords
Kobo

Alternatively, if you would prefer a signed copy, you can contact me at my author e-mail, contact.cfbarrows@gmail.com and order one directly from me. Books purchased from me are $12 USD plus shipping. Haven't read the first two books? That's okay! You can check them out on Goodreads or at the links below:

The Follower

(Book One)

Goodreads

Paperback Links:

Amazon

CreateSpace

Barnes & Noble

E-Book Links:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Kobo

The Merchant's Son

(Book Two, prequel to The Follower)

Goodreads

Paperback Links:

Amazon
CreateSpace
Barnes & Noble

E-Book Links:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Kobo

If you read the books and like them (or just have something to say about them that you want other potential readers to know, even if it doesn't warrant a full five stars), I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave a review. Reviews are one of the most effective ways to spread the word about a book, and are invaluable to indie authors like me. But either way, I hope you have a blessed day and enjoy whatever books you do choose to read, whether they're mine or someone else's. (If you're a fan of Christian fantasy, my personal recommendation would be to check out Jill Williamson's books. They're fantastic. I'm also checking out R. J. Larson's work now, but I haven't read enough to have an opinion on her work yet -- I shall let you know when I do. The world can always use some more good, clean speculative reads.)

Have any book recommendations you'd like to share? Questions about the book I've just released? Feel free to comment below! I'll try my utmost to reply. Releasing a new book is always nerve-wracking, so I should be spending a lot of time online, checking on things, updating other things, talking about all the things on the social networking... um... places, and...

Yeah, basically, there's a good chance I'll reply this time around. And I shall endeavor to do more with the blog in general, now that the most daunting item is off of my to-do list. Maybe I'll even post more installments in the short stories I've previously posted...

...But I digress.

Book Review: 'The Heir War' (Kinsman Chronicles #1.2) By Jill Williamson

Hey there, digressors. Guess what hit the digital market today? It's a new book! The second installment of 'The Kinsman Chronicles' by Jill Williamson released today, and it's available at all (or most) major eBook retailers. And because I know you're dying to know my opinion of it (okay, okay, maybe you're not, but you're already here), I shall leave it below. But first, for context, you can visit this site for the official blurbs of the books. Oh, and a charming little graphic Jill herself made in honor of the occasion. 

Two months ago, I reviewed 'Darkness Reigns', the opener to a compelling high fantasy series by Jill Williamson. Today I am reviewing its faster-paced sequel. 

The first book was very good, and a solid beginning to the series, but since it had to do the job of introducing not only an entire cast of characters, but the complicated world in which they lived, the pace was a little slow. 'The Heir War' does not have this problem. With 'Darkness Reigns' as a launching pad, it takes off, carrying along the reader in its ride through the five reals and the environmental and interpersonal chaos throughout. It's a riveting tale, filled with action and suspense that left me eagerly anticipating the next installment. Tension mounts between characters and prophecy comes to fruition, the religious systems are further developed, the faith themes have begun to evolve and cast light into the darkness, and the more questions are answered, the more rise up to take their place. 

If I had to pick a favorite character, though the cast in general is fantastic, I would choose Trevn, the youngest Sar (or prince) of Armania. He's energetic and charmingly offbeat, childish at times but with a good heart and a desire to see truth come to light. 

I do feel compelled to give a heads-up that there is some innuendo involved, primarily by cruder characters in conversation and dares and by priestesses seeking to fulfill an ancient prophecy. However, it's plot-relevant rather than gratuitous, so I wouldn't say that it necessarily makes the book any less worth reading. I'd only say that the story is clearly meant for adults and older teens, and this should be taken into consideration when choosing whether or not to read it. 

Overall, I liked 'The Heir War' even more than 'Darkness Reigns', and  I eagerly look forward to reading the third book. 

So what do you think? Would you like to join in on the quest to save the five realms? You can get 'Heir War' at any of the links below the lovely cover if you're interested. If you haven't read 'Darkness Reigns' yet, it's free for download at all the same e-retailers as 'Heir War'. 

Amazon 

Barnes & Noble 

Christian Book Distributors 

Kobo 

A Resolution Fulfilled... And A Character To Interview! (Ask Shaetha)

Good evening, fellow digressors. Or is it morning? Afternoon, maybe? Well, I guess it depends on when you get around to reading this post. How were your holidays? Did you make any resolutions for the new year? I generally only make one or two, and they tend to be writing-related, but maybe I should get into the habit of making ones relevant to my lifestyle. Or, hey, I could resolve to be more regular about my blog posts. 

Eh. Okay, I should have done that like a year ago. If you have any tips on how to do it, please feel very free to drop them below. 

Speaking of resolutions, though, mine last year was to finish writing 'The Sehret Chronicles: The Rescuer' by the time 2016 rolled around. I didn't make it. However, a week ago today... 

I DID IT. 

That's right -- I have a big, messy, nearly 144,000-words-long monster to grapple with now. But a complete monster. (Perhaps a bit too complete, actually, considering that it's about 40,000 words longer than either of the other two books in the trilogy.) 

I'm not sure when I'll manage to get it on the market, but I would very much like to edit and release it before I turn 22 in May. It might be feasible, depending upon how much editing I end up having to do. I have no official cover yet, but I did create one for fun a while back, and I uploaded it for use on the front of the first draft proof copy which should arrive in the next week or so (and I will show you pictures when it gets here). For now, here is the mock-up cover: 

On that note, if you feel like playing around with a cover of your own (or a poster, or anything along those lines), check out Canva. It has some beautiful pre-made designs and even some free images and special fonts that you can use. Also, it shows you when the design element you're moving is fully centered from left to right. How delightful is that for a perfectionist? 

Oh! You know what else is exciting? 'Heir War', part 1.2 of 'The Kinsman Chronicles' by Jill Williamson is coming out on February 2nd. I'm in the process of reading it, so I can't give you much of a review yet, but so far it's fantastic. I daresay I'm liking it even better than 'Darkness Reigns'. The introductory parts are pretty much over, and so there's more action going on, and it makes me happy. Note: The dark parts are still there, but the light has also begun to creep in to provide contrast, so things are starting to come together, though I have no doubt Jill will take me for a few more twists and turns by the time it's over. Or several more. Who knows? Well, I suppose she does, since she wrote them. Brilliantly, of course, as always. By the way, the official website for the series is here and, as stated there, you can visit Jill's website for more cool things related to the series and the world and characters involved in it. 

Me, a fangirl? Don't be silly. Wherever did you get the impression that I was a fangirl? 

Ahem. You, um, really don't have to answer that question. 

Anyhow. 

Since I finished writing this draft of 'Rescuer', I've been mostly occupied with (1) finding people to read and give feedback, (2) trying not to let myself edit yet, and (3) attempting rather unsuccessfully to get my brain to work on my next scheduled project, 'Distorted Dimensions', a contemporary YA science-fiction novel about a PK who encounters the town "ghost" and has to both figure out what happened to him and help bring his "haunting" to an end. However, I'm having a fair amount of trouble working on that, and have instead been straying to other stories. One is a contemporary YA with no speculative elements, but technically it's not supposed to exist because it's populated by alternate versions of the characters from 'The Sehret Chronicles'. 

My point? Well, as long as I'm procrastinating by writing other things, I might as well work on something that is supposed to exist. So expect another installment in 'The Runaway' fairly soon, provided life doesn't get in the way. But for now, I have just one more announcement for you... 

Another character interview! 

Yes, you read that correctly. Some of you may remember a while back when I did a series of character interviews, wherein I would present a character to you and give you the opportunity to ask them whatever questions you liked. I've decided to do it again, at least for one character, though I might not get into another series just now unless there's interest in such a thing. And the lucky character this time around is... 

Shaetha Sohran

Shaetha wasn't really what you would call a major character in 'The Follower', but in 'The Rescuer' she could almost be considered the protagonist around whom the story revolves (although I think Sohrem is somewhat more central). She's fifteen, nearly sixteen, an ENFJ (Extroverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging), and a Yahveh-Follower who recently came to recognize Jeshua as Yahveh incarnate. Her parents died in a house fire when she was five, and her father's last act was to run back into the house and push her out to safety. Since then, it's been Shaetha and her older brother, Lehn, against the world. She suffers from recurring nightmares and pyrophobia as a result of the event which claimed her parents, but she's getting better about being around fires and handling her bad nights on her own (whereas Lehn would usually come running to console her). She's a positive soul who tries to see the good in everyone, and this can sometimes come back to bite her if she overlooks one potentially dangerous flaw too many in someone she loves. Pressure scares her and pushes her outside of her comfort zone, but when someone really needs her, she'll rise to the occasion, so long as that occasion does not involve wielding a weapon much bigger than her hand. However, if she's been under stress without someone there to help her sort through her feelings about things, you'll find her more bossy and direct than her usual personality would suggest she's capable of being. Overall, she's a goodhearted young woman in the throes of growing up, and one of her greatest challenges is in learning how to function and thrive on her own, apart from anyone else's direction or supervision. 

Since I haven't posted an interview in a while, and it's the middle of the week right now, I'm going to leave it open for you to ask questions through the 27th. So fire away! (But not with real fire, please. Shaetha may be braver than people think, but let's try not to trigger her intentionally just now, shall we?) 

Exciting News for Jill Williamson Fans (And Mine, Too, I Suppose)

Hello there, fellow digressors. I return to you after months of being on the run after, unfortunately, faking my death. I would tell you why that was necessary were it not for the fact that telling you as much would mean I would have to kill you. 

Wait... Maybe that was just a dream I had after falling asleep trying to explain why I was gone for so long. Well, either way, I'm sure the government will be swooping down on me soon, either to change my identity or to arrest me for my serial-killer-esque search history. 

Anyways, I have big news for all of you who are familiar with the works of my favorite author, Jill Williamson, and particularly her 'Blood of Kings' trilogy, of which I reviewed the first book here.  

On December 1st, Bethany House Publishers will release 'Darkness Reigns', the first installment in a NEW FANTASY SERIES from Jill. That's right -- there are more Jill books on the way! 'Darkness Reigns' is a free eBook, and makes up the first third of 'King's Folly', the first book in 'The Kinsman Chronicles'. There will be three eBooks, and then the paperback of 'King's Folly' will be released in April of 2016. You can preorder 'Darkness Reigns' for FREE here and read it as soon as it hits the market!

But first, let me clarify -- 'Blood of Kings' was written for teens (and it was beautiful). 'The Kinsman Chronicles' is written for adults, and thus the content is somewhat more mature. I've been reading an ARC of 'Darkness Reigns', and let me say that while it is an excellent book and well worth reading so far (I'll post a full review when I finish it), it is very different from the related 'Blood of Kings' trilogy, largely due to the fact that it takes place hundreds of years beforehand, in a darker time when Achan's ancestors lived in a different land and lived less than godly lifestyles. The culture of the realms which the characters occupy is entrenched in idol-worship, and the king who rules over Armania in particular (where most of the main characters reside) is a corrupt man, and his corruption is reflected in the debauchery of the court and society at large. Parallels can be drawn between the rule of the Armanian king and the rule of the kings of Israel when the people forgot Jehovah and strayed to worship false gods. There are things such as human sacrifice, women calling upon dark spirits to gain power, and the presence of concubines and multiple wives taken by the king and various nobles. As such, caution should be exercised when considering the series as reading material for, say, young teens or anyone who does not appreciate a measure of darkness (restrained, of course) to provide contrast to the light in their fiction. 

Now, that being said, where there is great darkness, there is great capacity for the light to shine through and to shine all the clearer. After all, many a testimony has been given by a person who lived their own life in such darkness and found the light when they came to Christ, and I myself believe that these testimonies would not hold such power were it not for how much they did and went through, and consequently how much change God wrought in their lives. (Hey, I had a demon-possessed character in my first book and he tried to kill people. If that's not dark, what is?) And Jill, being a responsible author, handles the darkness in such a way that, while it is uncomfortable witnessing such a corrupt society, gore is kept to a minimum and the inappropriate relations which do occur happen behind closed doors rather than being flaunted for the reader to witness. Hence, Jill's careful handling makes what is admittedly a different read from her other books still very much worth the reader's precious time. The characters are multi-dimensional as ever and their stories are riveting. I can only imagine how powerful the transition will be when the characters (I don't know which ones yet) find Arman and allow Him to transform their lives. I, for one, am excited to see it happen. 

Oops. Did I just post a full review of the book before actually getting to the end of it? Well, I guess I am rather far into it. Still, I will update the review when the time comes and, hopefully, have more to add than I've already given.

At some point, I will endeavour to sketch portraits of the many lovely characters residing in the book, though I might have a little diffculty doing justice to their faces. (Incidentally, if anyone has any advice on how to sketch darker skintones without making them look splotchy, I would not say nay to such assistance.) 

All right, now to the goodies (virtual though they may be). Jill has, at the link below, posted a chart of the five realms in 'King's Folly' and written summaries of them. I definitely recommend checking out the list to start getting into the mood for when the first installment comes out in FOUR DAYS. 

http://jillwilliamson.com/2015/11/countdown-to-the-end-5-realms/ 

Speaking of which, I do happen to have these lovely graphics, created by Jill for just such an occasion (although technically the first one was supposed to be for yesterday)... 

OH. That's right -- there's also going to be a Facebook party to celebrate the book launch, and you are all invited to attend. (I will post details about that as well when I post my review of 'Darkness Reigns'.) 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to finish reading this awesome book I've been going through, and also trying to finish the first draft of 'The Sehret Chronicles: The Rescuer'. Yes, you heard me correctly -- the end is in sight! I've just hit page 225 in the manuscript, and I'm already working on figuring out how to end this thing. (My writing process is complicated, but suffice to say, I'm making up nearly everything as I go along at this point, and it's resulting in quite a lot of plot twists. Anyone particularly attached to my characters and concerned for their wellbeing should probably be afraid of this stage of my process.) 

So what have you all been up to lately? Read any good books? Besides 'Darkness Reigns', I recently read 'Unwind' by Neal Shusterman. It's a dystopian novel, the first in a series, and while the premise may seem a little disturbing (basically, the pro-life and pro-choice people went to war and ended up making peace under certain conditions which allowed for teenagers to be "unwound" at their parents' orders), it's a really compelling story and worth the time to read. I've actually moved on to the second book, and the trend of haunting awesomeness has so far continued. It's nice having the brainpower to read books again, after a long period of being too foggy or distractible. Maybe that's why I've only recently gotten into the groove of writing again, since reading fuels my passion for writing. 

But, as ever, I digress. 

Update On The Short Story Situation

All right, fellow digressors, here's the situation: A while back, I resolved to post the openings to several short stories and give you all the chance to vote on which one I should continue. I posted the first scene of two of them, then never got around to the others. Quite honestly, I would love to just run back and forth between all the possibilities and write them all and share my babies with you for your entertainment. (Yes, my characters are my babies. My very tortured babies.)

However... I am seriously behind in my primary project, 'The Sehret Chronicles: The Rescuer', and with how my health is, it's hard to do much of anything, so I'll be hard-pressed to get this book done by the end of the year. As you might have guessed by the sporadic nature of my posts, my brain is not the most reliable one in the world, and if I try to keep up with too many things at once, I'll just fall further behind in everything.

SO. Here's the deal. I find myself rather attached to both of the short stories I've already introduced, 'Street Rats' and 'The Runaway'. I think if I picked one of them, I might have a chance at making at least some progress with it, though I know at this point that to promise to churn out a scene every week would be unwise and unfair. Which one I would prefer depends on the day. 'Street Rats' gives me the opportunity to show a whole different side of a couple of my favorite antagonists (THEY WERE JUST BABIES, OKAY?), and that appeals to me. However, 'The Runaway' would give some insights into both Jorthen and Sohrem, and maybe set things up a bit for the books that take place after it chronologically. I also have a better idea of the plot for 'Runaway', so it is possible that I would put out scenes more reliably if I chose it.

But I miss Tal so much... Yes, I know I'm insane. He's still my baby, even if he did get a little... erm... messed up. And baby Siran is adorable. I love their early relationship, before things started to go really wrong.

...But I digress once again. Here's the bottom line: I want to write these. But it's probably best that I go with only one of them for the time being. SO. If it were up to you, which story would you like to see continued? In case you missed them earlier, or in case you'd like to review, here are the links to the opening scene of each:

'Street Rats - Part One'

'The Runaway - Part One'

So (yes, I like that word)... What do y'all think? Yes (I like that word, too), I do actually want to know what you think. I am an extremely indecisive person and a people-pleaser, so I'd like to be sure that you all have input into whatever I do here. I mean, sure, writing these things is fun, but I'd like to make sure other people enjoy them and not just me.

ANYWAYS. I hope I've explained the dilemma clearly enough. Feel free to ask clarifying questions about the stories or whatever below. Go!

'Street Rats' - Part One

Hey there fellow digressors. Sorry I've been so absent lately -- among other things, copy-editing business has picked up a bit, so I've been busy with that. I had a day off today, though, so I spent it mostly sitting around and browsing Facebook and Pinterest. I saw some other people dealing with prompts and such, and decided to check out my huge board of prompts on Pinterest. I picked one, posted it to a writers' group on Facebook, and followed it myself. A couple of my friends urged me to write more and put it on the blog, or even to write more short stories and do the same with them. 

Well, it just so happens that I'd already considered this idea. And I've decided to give it a go. 

But here's the rub: I have way too many stories dancing about together inside my head. Most take place in the world of Sehret, and most are backstory pieces about my main characters or their families. And I am such an indecisive person that I can't decide which one to use. SO. Here's what I want to do -- over the next couple of days, I'll post the opening scenes for a few of these short stories, and give each a (very temporary) name so you can keep track of them. Then, in a few days (I'll have to figure out how many stories I'm dealing with before I know exactly when), I'll write a summary post with shortened versions of the scenes, and ask y'all to vote on which one most interests you. Whichever story has the most votes will be the one I continue (or try to continue) and post exclusively here on the blog. Let me clarify: These scenes are not in any actual book that I'm writing at the moment. They may become their own novellas or be sorted into an anthology of short stories at a later date, but right now, the only way to read them will be by coming here. Think of it as a serial novella which you get to read as it's written, and on which you can give feedback if you so desire (but please, be kind). 

Another idea I've considered is designating a certain day of the week to check the 'Writing Prompts' widget in the sidebar and follow whatever prompt it gives me, and invite y'all to join in if you want. Thoughts? How many of you would be interested in something like that? 

Anyways, now that I've gotten that intro out of the way, let me introduce you to the first (not fully edited) scene of the first short story... 

--------------

Street Rats

(Temporary Title)

Prequel to 'The Sehret Chronicles: The Merchant's Son'

--------------

Lans, Reshan-Shamindo Border -- Reshan Territory

--------------

All he had to do was take it. The bread sat on the edge of the table, fresh and wafting its yeasty scent towards Tal, making his stomach grumble again. He wouldn't have felt it over the moths fluttering in there, had it not sent such a sharp stab of pain throughout his ribcage. His hands trembled from hunger and fear. How would he ever make them steady enough to steal for his brother's dinner? 

The baker turned away to deal with a customer, and Tal's heart quickened. He tensed, glanced around to be sure no-one was watching, then... 

"You don't want to do that." 

Tal gasped and spun to press his back against the wall between him and the baker's stand. His pulse pounded in his head, and his stomach churned. 

A boy of about his age with straggly black hair and keen blue eyes crouched next to him and grinned. "New to this, are you?" 

"Keep quiet," Tal hissed. His hands shook, so he curled them into fists. "This is risky enough as it is." 

"It's risky because you don't know what you're doing. Me, on the other hand? I could get that bread in less than the amount of time you've spent shaking behind this wall." 

Darr's voice rang through Tal's head. "Quit shaking and get the job done. There'll be time enough to think things through later." 

He swallowed, glanced over his shoulder, then fixed his gaze on the newcomer again. "...Who are you?" 

"Name's Ryst. This is my territory." 

"It's Reshan territory, stupid." 

Ryst snickered, making Tal flinch. "So do you want that bread, or not?" 

Tal worked his jaw. "I've stolen before." 

"Sure, sure you have." Ryst crept to the edge of the wall and peered around it. "All right. The customer is leaving." 

Tal found himself creeping up behind Ryst and trying to peek around him. His heart leapt to his throat again, and he pulled back. "Do we go now?" 

"Back," Ryst hissed, and shoved Tal back far enough to retreat himself. 

Tal barely caught himself before he could fall. Frustration rose within him, and he glared at Ryst. "Why did you distract me? I could have made it." 

Ryst sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "If you're counting on customers to distract him, then you never go during the first sale of the day. He won't let his guard down long enough to let you in until he feels safe looking away that long." 

"I don't have all day. I just need enough time to run in and grab the bread." 

Ryst snorted. "And then he'll spot you and call the guards. You might think you're fast, but you won't get away if you try something like that." 

Tal tried, but he couldn't think of a proper response. He looked away and tried to keep a neutral expression. His eyes stung, and he blinked hard to get any stray flecks of dust out of them. 

He felt eyes on him, and when he looked again, Ryst was watching him. "What's your name, anyhow? I haven't seen you around here." 

Tal swallowed hard, then cleared his throat and tried to sound as grown-up as possible. "Talsyn Lethar. I... didn't used to come here often." 

"Talsyn Lethar?" Ryst wrinkled his nose. "Too long. How's 'Tal' sound?" 

Tal shrugged. "It works." He was actually used to having his name shortened that way, but he felt no need to point it out to a thief he would probably never speak with again. 

"Fine then, Tal. How old are you?" 

"Why?" Tal glared at him again. "I don't even know your full name. Why do I have to give you my whole life story?" 

Ryst rolled his eyes again. "Fine, then. Don't tell me your age." He inched forward on the balls of his feet, then glanced at Tal. "If I snag that bread, I get a share, right?" 

"What kind of share?" 

"Half." 

"One third." 

"Half, or you can grab it yourself." 

"I have a brother to feed, dimwit." Tal tried to make the words sound hard and clipped, but his voice trembled, betraying hi desperation. Could he really get the bread on his own? Ryst was right -- he had no idea what he was doing. He'd only stolen twice, and both time were under Darr's supervision. Both times, Darr had stressed to him how this was not a permanent solution, only a quick fix until they could get on their feet again. 

But Darr wasn't here, was he? Not that he had really been there in life, either. 

It took him a moment of staring to realize that Ryst had vanished from his perch by the wall. 

Tal blinked and scrambled to his feet. Where had the rat gone? Stolen the bread, no doubt, and run off with every bit of it. Well, maybe that was fair, but it wouldn't help Tal fill any stomachs tonight. He glanced nervously about and fought the panic rising in his chest. He had to think. If Ryst's assessment was accurate, an attempt at theft now would more likely earn him a trip to jail than a meal. He couldn't afford that. He also couldn't afford to sit here all day coming up with plans if he wasn't going to follow through on them. 

He groaned and paced away from the edge, ran a hand through his greasy black hair. This whole trip had been a bad idea. It had been hard enough saddling up the old hag's gelding and getting it here. And leaving his brother on that hill outside of town, without supervision? While safer than leaving him at the house, it was still a monumental show of idiocy. He had to get out of here now. He had to grab Siran and-- 

"Hey, Tal-boy." 

Tal started and fumbled at his tattered belt for the sharpened stick that he'd hung there. He jabbed it out ad he whirled around to face the speaker. 

Ryst laughed and tossed a fresh, piping hot loaf of bread from his right hand to his left. "Still working yourself up, I see. Here." And with that, he flung the loaf into the air in Tal's general direction. 

Tal dropped the stick and caught the loaf in mid-flight. He turned it over in his hands, ignoring the way it burned his skin. The smell wafting from it made his knees weak. Upon closer examination, he saw that the loaf was whole. He frowned. 

"Good enough?" 

He looked up to see that Ryst was still watching him. Tal lifted the loaf as if putting it on display. "What about your share?" 

Ryst shrugged. "Break it off if you like. I'll eat something. Unlike you, I'm used to stealing for myself." 

The words stung, but Tal could barely hold back a grin as he stuffed the load into his bag. He had to get back to Siran. They had to get back to the house before the old hag got sober enough to realize that they'd gone. 

"Hey, shaker." 

The words made Tal stop and face Ryst again. His face flamed as he remembered that he hadn't acknowledged the efforts made to get the food now bulging in his pack. "...Thanks." 

"Actually, I was just going to say that my name is Rystar Teln." Ryst shrugged. "Just in case you were still wondering." 

Tal swallowed hard again and nodded. "...Teln. I'll remember." 

"I'd rather you didn't, actually. The name's Rystar." And here Ryst stepped forward and extended his hand. "Think you can remember that much, Lethar?" 

Tal hesitated a long moment, then took Ryst's hand and slapped his palm. He nodded. "Sure. And just call me Tal." 

Ryst returned the slap and grinned faintly. "I guess I probably won't be calling you anything, if you're not sticking around. You really going to feed yourself and that brother of yours with one load of bread?" 

"We've made do with less." Tal stepped backwards and lowered his hand. "I have to go. he's waiting." 

Ryst nodded. "Power to you, Tal. And lots of it." 

Power. Now there was an elusive commodity. Tal shrugged. "Sure." He turned again to leave, then hesitated. "Hey, Ryst--" 

But when he turned again, Ryst was gone, vanished as if he had never been there in the first place. 

Tal looked down at his satchel, then at the ground where Ryst had stood. After a long moment of thought, he turned and sprinted off in the direction of the hill where he'd left his brother. 

When he got there, clouds had just begun to roll in over his head, and the air was pregnant with telltale moisture. Tal shuddered and quickened his step. He spotted the patch of grass where he'd made Siran sit not an hour earlier. 

Nothing. The grass was bare. 

His heart leapt to his throat again. "Siran?" His voice came out hoarse, and he nearly tripped in his haste to get up the hill. He reached the patch of grass in question and patter it as if to be sure that no-one sat there. His eyes had not deceived him. Panic swelled in his chest, stole his breath from him. He whirled around and panted for breath. "S-siran? Siran, where did you go?" 

Could he have wandered into the city? Had Tal passed him in his hurry to get there? What if one of the merchants had nabbed him, declared him a Shamindo street rat and locked him up somewhere? What if-- 

"Tal?" 

Tal nearly cried out from relief when Siran sprinted over the crest of the hill towards him. Tal stumbled up to meet him, grabbed hold of his arm, and dropped to his knees before his little brother. "Siran, I told you not to wander off like that!" 

Siran's green eyes grew wide, and he tried to jerk his arm away from Tal. 

A bit of remorse left a lump in Tal's throat, and he released Siran's arm. "I'm sorry. I was just... I just didn't..." His words trailed off, and he winced, then touched Siran's arm more carefully. "Look, Siran, you know I wouldn't hurt you, right? Not ever." 

It took a long moment, but Siran nodded and wrapped his arms around Tal's neck. 

Tal blinked hard and returned the hug, then took a deep breath. It was time to be the big brother here. No more motherish panic attacks. He reached for his satchel and pulled the flap open. "I got something in the market for us." He reached into the bag and pulled the loaf into view. 

Siran's grin was instantaneous. "You got food?" 

Tal relaxed again and managed to return Siran's grin. "Yeah. I had a little help, but we won't go hungry tonight. Here..." He broke off a piece and offered it to Siran. "Chew it slowly. This will have to last us until I can get some more." 

If his brother heard his warning, he showed few signs of it. Siran stuffed the morsel into his mouth all at once, and seemed to have no intention of chewing it. 

Tal laughed. "Eacy there. Don't choke yourself." 

Siran coughed and ducked his head a little, then made a more obvious effort to chew his food. All the same, it was barely five seconds before he swallowed. 

Fair enough. Tal broke off a piece of the bread or himself and took a bite of it. The succulent, yeasty taste almost made him cry out with pleasure. He could see why Siran's self-control had gone out the window. But this had to last. He finished his piece and stuffed the rest of the loaf back into the satchel. "We'll have the rest at the house." 

Siran's face fell. "But she'll take it." 

"No, she won't. I'll hide it so that she won't ever find it." Tal offered a hand to Siran. "Trust me?" 

A pair of wide eyes met his, then Siran nodded, smiled sheepishly, and slid his grimy hand into Tal's. 

Tal squeezed his hand and led the way back down the hill. Siran's feet slipped enough times that, by the time they reached the bottom of the hill and approached the animal they'd ridden into the city, Tal had hoisted his brother onto his back and had a pair of arms wrapped tightly about his neck. It was all he could do to hold them far enough out to avoid choking. He helped Siran mount and began to fasten their satchel to the saddle. Something bumped his rear, and he swatted without looking. "Settle down, horse." 

The black gelding, Taryk, nickered and nipped again. Siran giggled. Tal grimaced and ignored the animal until he had the bag secure. Taryk bumped him with his nose, and Tal sighed and rubbed it. "You're a real chore, aren't you?" 

This must have been enough, for a moment later, Taryk bobbed his head and began to graze again.
"Oh, no, you don't. You'll eat at home just like us." Tal swung into the saddle and helped Siran center himself on the saddle. "Ready?" 

"Can we make him gallop today?" 

If this nag galloped, he'd fall apart halfway home. "We'll see. Just hang tight, all right? We'll be home soon." 

Siran nodded and took hold of the saddle horn. Taryk seemed none too pleased, but ceased his grazing, and when Tal picked up the reins and kicked, the animal tossed his head slightly and began the eternal ride towards home. 

--------------

Copyright (c) 2015 by C. F. Barrows

Another Announcement -- Musical Mondays!

Hey there, fellow digressors. So, you're probably wondering (1) what on earth I'm announcing this time, and (2) what exactly 'Musical Mondays' are. Well, since starting the whole series of character interviews, I've been reminded of something I actually discovered a long time ago: I need deadlines. I can try to work without them, but I'll be much more productive if I have some idea of exactly what I'm supposed to do and when it needs to be finished. This has proven true with the character interviews, in that I consistently post those, even when I don't get anything else done. 

So, I am instigating a new tradition: Musical Mondays. Henceforth, Mondays -- while previously dedicated to a celebration of doom, dread, and, um... um... of failed alliterations -- shall bring with them a post containing or related to a piece of music. This could be a hymn, a classical piece, movie score, or one of my own compositions. Anything goes. This flexibility is halfway there to provide variety, and halfway contrived to give my scattered brain freedom to choose whatever its evil little heart desires. (Do brains have hearts? That would be disturbing. Or if a brain literally had a mind of its own, and so you actually had two brains inside your head... That would almost be cool. ANYWAYS.) 

For the first Musical Monday, I am going to share with you a ballad that I wrote just yesterday. A friend from Go Teen Writers shared a song she'd written about one of her characters, and it inspired me to write a ballad of my own. It's called 'Heart of the Innocent', and gives a general outline of one character's developmental arc throughout the books so far. (I could tell you which one, if you like, but I'll withhold that information for the moment, in case anyone out there hates spoilers. And anyways, I think at least four or five characters are mentioned at least vaguely throughout the song.) 

I only have one halfway decent recording, and it's a cappella, because playing the piano might have involved inadvertently waking a couple of adorable kids who were napping nearby. It is by no means a perfect recording, but it should at least give you an idea of how the song is supposed to go. I'll also include the lyrics below, in case you either can't understand them in the video or don't feel inclined to play it at all (shame on you, sir or madam; shame, indeed). Oh -- and this is the first time I've written a ballad, as far as I can remember, so please be gentle. I've only written hymns/spiritual songs previously. Well, I mean, I wrote a lot of poetry when I was younger, and I've read and listened to 'The Highwayman' probably way too many times, but... Anyways, here it is: 

Heart of the Innocent

"Come and hear now the tale

Of the child of a beggar-man,

How his world changed overnight.

All he held dear

Was ripped from his fingertips,

And he tried to make it all right

For the one in his care,

All that remained for him; his life he’d gladly spend

For one little boy

With the heart of an innocent.

The price of his soul

Seemed a small one to pay,

But the deal, it was only the start,

And the child of a beggar-man

Found that his means of escape

Had fallen apart.

But a desperate man, he holds tight to his plans;

He does things that he never meant.

And with one blow,

He shattered the heart of the innocent.

Well, the beggar-man’s child,

His song came to an end

But the shattered heart he left behind

Went searching for love,

Searching for light,

But darkness was all he could find.

Long he lived in the night;

It was all that he knew,

But something inside was still bent

On finding someone

To rebuild the heart of the innocent.

Though the darkness said

There was no light to be found,

The innocent searched, and then

He thought one he met

Would the damage repair,

But they shattered him over again.

Oh hear how he cries,

How his hope, now it dies,

How in fear, to the flames he went.

Now so black,

Black is the heart of the innocent.

Now the light burns his eyes,

And when love comes, he flies.

When he falls, no-one sees his descent

But one girl,

One with the heart of an innocent.

Now the darkness abates

And the innocent waits,

Longs so, but fears to relent.

Is there still hope,

Hope for the heart of the innocent?"

Copyright (c) 2014 by C. F. Barrows

Yes, yes, rest assured the "innocent" hates me with every fiber of his being. But I'm not all that afraid of him, so meh. Even if he did work up the nerve to attack me, he'd probably be horrified at himself afterwards. Here's hoping he never finds any sort of portal into the real world. Do you think the Doctor would help him? Man, that's a scary thought... What if they see me as this big, cruel monster who's bent on gobbling up all the poor little people under my jurisdiction? 

Iiiii'm not sure I really want to think about that. 

OH. Also, a reminder: I'll be taking questions for Sheth Terrem over here until Wednesday. Make sure to get yours in by then! I promise he doesn't bite. He's one of the nice charries. Usually. 

So, heard any good ballads lately? Loreena McKennitt did a gorgeous cover of 'The Highwayman' once. It's somewhat abridged, but it's still ten minutes long, and utterly haunting. I can't speak for or against the rest of her work, but I love that song. It's so much fun to sing, too. The beauty... The flow... The creepiness... 

.........Buuuuut, as always... I digress.