Sentinels Of Varnuse: When The Walls Come Tumbling Down #5

#5.

A whole month had passed since their wedding; since the day Quin had finally made Brayden his for all time. Quin sat upon his throne watching the people around him. Something wasn’t right. There was just something that seemed off, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it could possibly be. Even though everyone appeared to be acting the same as usual, he still had the sense something bad was heading their way.

The kingdom of Panthea was usually a very peaceful place to live. They even got on with all their neighbours. There was nothing he could think of which could upset the world in which they lived, yet, something was niggling in the back of his brain as if in a warning he needed to take precaution. Even greater was the sense he needed to look after his family—because when it came, and it would—his family were going to be targeted.

“What has that look on your face?” Ingrid said softly as she took a step closer to him. “I can hear you thinking from where I stand.”

“I just have a feeling something is coming. Something I’m not going to like.” A frown came and rested on Ingrid’s beautiful face, which in turn brought a frown to Quinlan. “Now what are you thinking about?”

“Is this a feeling, or a premonition? Because, if it is a premonition we’ll need to make plans. Your premonitions have never led us wrong before.”

“I don’t know what it is. I just have this feeling something is coming for Brayden and the boys.” Quinlan shook his head in frustration. “I really can’t see clearly what it is.”

Ingrid cracked her knuckles and appeared to be in thought. She grinned when Quinlan winced at the action. “Sorry, keep forgetting you’re a wuss, and can’t handle that.”

Quin glared at her. “I’m your king. Isn’t it about time you showed me some respect?” He had to fight the smile that was coming, because he knew full well Ingrid in fact respected him a hell of a lot more than she afforded other people.

“Not gonna happen, Quinlan. I know all your deep down secrets…and I’m not against using them for my advantage”

Luckily he knew she was only joking. “Don’t suppose you’ll be willing to forget those—hmmm?”

“Ha!” Ingrid blurted out then blushed in something akin to embarrassment or maybe exasperation. Quinlan wasn’t quite sure which one.

“Look, here come your heart now,” she gestured in Brayden’s direction as he entered the great hall.

Quinlan’s breath caught at the smile Brayden wore as he approached. His husband always did have the best smile. In quin’s opinion it was only rivalled by his sons.

“Good morning, my love, did you sleep well?” Quin held out an arm and pulled Brayden down onto his lap.

Since his return Brayden had thrived on a lot of affection, and Quin was willing to give him whatever he needed to feel whole. There were secrets in Brayden’s past which he wasn’t ready to share yet, and Quin was prepared to wait until he was.

Brayden leaned in and kissed Quin on the cheek. “I slept very well,” Bray answered as he wrapped his arms around Quin’s neck and held him tight. “Thank you for the present, it’s beautiful.”

Fear and caution warred within Quin as he tried to keep his voice calm. “Present? I haven’t given you a present.” He tightened his embrace when he felt his husband begin to tremble. “What did you get?”

Brayden pressed his face into Quin’s neck. Quin knew Bray was taking in his scent. Over the last month he discovered this was how Bray was able to calm himself.

“It was a flower. Actually, it’s the whole bush.” Bray sat up and looked Quin straight in his eyes before he continued speaking. “When I woke up this morning there was a potted plant sitting beside the window in our bedroom.” Confusion seemed to have filled his eyes. “I could swear it’s the Heart of Panthea, but I thought they died out generations ago. I went and looked it up in the library before coming here—just to make sure that’s what it really was.”

Quinlan looked at Ingrid and without saying anything she went and spoke to two of the guards. He knew she’d sent them to retrieve the plant in question, and bring it to them.

“Are you sure you didn’t give it to me?” Brayden’s voice quavered.

“No, my love. I’m positive the gift wasn’t from me.” Quin kissed Brayden’s temple. “Don’t worry, we’ll have it sorted out in no time.”

Brayden couldn’t seem to grasp what was happening. “Then who would give me a present if not you?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. You belong to me,” Quin hugged him possessively, “no one else can have you.”

Quinlan and Brayden sat up straighter as the gift in question was brought before them. Quinlan had to admit, as gifts went, it was truly beautiful. The heart shaped leaves were of the deepest green, and the flowers were of a red so dark it looked like they had been soaked in blood. This was the reason for the name the Heart of Panthea. What many people didn’t know, or maybe wouldn’t remember, is the Heart of Panthea was usually sent as a warning. To receive such a gift meant someone had put a price on your head.

Quinlan gazed at the man sitting panicked on his lap, who in their right mind would put a price on his husband’s head? Why would they? More to the point is how did they get into the castle undetected? The look on Ingrid’s face told Quin she also remembered the meaning of such a gift.

Ingrid shook her head slightly as if telling him not to say anything. Her gaze flickered to the still trembling Brayden then back in his direction. Quinlan dropped his own gaze to her hands and saw their sign for, ‘we’ll talk soon,’ followed closely by the sign, ‘I have a theory,’ this was something he couldn’t wait to hear, and he knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good.

Her theories were never good.

Beautiful According To Me

4 pictures that I think are absolutely beautiful.

Migraines & Story Ideas

I think I have suffered with migraines for as long as I can remember... 

My doctor says they're caused from stress, but I don't believe that.

I have another theory...

I think I get migraines the most when my brain has decided to give me as many story ideas as possible all at the same time. and my mind is unable to function until I have at least written down a crap load of notes on each one freeing up some space inside my head... This is usually when Vlad decides to get the hell out of dodge until there is some semblance of order back in place.

This is about day three of my current migraine... I've passed the stage where where I have the rainbow halo of lights in my vision and I want to be locked in a dark room and sleep it all away. Now, I'm at the stage where I can't focus enough on my WIPS to finish them - but I am able to take notes on the scrambled chaotic mess inside my head... where I have worlds/ characters/ species/ and the basis of the ideas all there waiting to be taken notice of.

Here's hoping that the migraine does what it came for and leaves... I already have enough WIPS without adding more to the list.

Music ~ Em's Turn

Four songs that seem to be stuck in my head

I hope you enjoy them...

Just A Quickie:

Well, last night as I was lying in bed a question came to me, and as much as I tried to ignore it the more demanding it became... and soon that one question turned into three.

For as long as there has been life, there have been shifters, and those who hunt them...

But what if the hunters became the hunted?

What if they needed to turn to their sworn enemies for help?

What would be the price paid for that help?

So you can basically see my dilemma. I had the beginning of a story idea, and while I relish new story ideas--sometimes I wish they would come to me at normal times... like in the daylight hours not at 2 a.m. when I need to be sleeping. But 10 pages of notes later I finally know where I'm thinking of going with this... As yet I have no series title nor do I have book titles. Though I do have a sense of how the world looks... what circles of life are still ongoing... Who they people in power are and what they're willing to do to retain their power... 

There are rules: 

1: Never mate outside your own species.

2: Never trust the enemy.

3: Best to kill first - ask questions later.

The picture above will give you some sort of inkling into my head-space. But the whole world isn't a crumbling wreck... some parts have gone back to basics where nature rules... some parts have been made into something else by mankind... at this stage that's all I can tell you until I can make sense of my own notes... next time I should put my glasses on to write shit down... LOL. 

Julie Lynn Hayes ~ When Will I See You Again

“Goodness, what big eyes you have!” Little Red Riding Hood exclaimed.

“The better to see you with, my dear,” said her grandmother.

Except we know it’s not really her grandmother, don’t we? It’s the Big Bad Wolf in disguise.

Little Red Riding Hood was my first introduction to the wolf as more than an animal. This wolf walks and talks, he has very human emotions and he’ssneaky and crafty. Is he really a wolf, or is he more... perhaps the forerunner of the loup-garou? More commonly known as the werewolf, or wolf man?

Outside of fairy tales, I think my first encounter with wolf men came with the Lon Chaney, Jr. film. His werewolf was a scary dude, and very hairy. Not to mention he was a total beast. And I mean that literally. As a werewolf, no remnant of Larry Talbot’s humanity was evident once he changed. He acted on pure animal instinct, and people were scared spitless at the sight of him.

There have been a number of films in this genre, with pretty much the same horrifying scenario of the man forced to turn into a hideous beast at the tug of the full moon, usually the result of a curse of some sort. Or the bite of another werewolf. There was nothing romantic about these creatures.

And then along came An American Werewolf in London, which took werewolves in a new direction, and revitalized the genre and breathed new life in it (with more than a touch of humor), leading to such films as Van Helsing and Underworld, among others.

Meanwhile, in the world of fiction, the werewolf underwent a more startling transformation. Romance writers created tortured souls that were also incredibly sexy, and gave a whole new meaning to the word. The first sexy werewolf I can remember was actually on TV. Quentin Collins, in the old soap opera Dark Shadows, was sexy David Selby. He’s the first werewolf I remember thinking was hot. Okay, there was Oliver Reed too, in Curse of the Werewolf, but he was also scary lol.

Werewolves are now a staple of paranormal romance writers, rivaling the vampire in popularity. At any given time, usually one of these creatures dominates the field as far as who’s the top of the polls. But werewolves have actually devolved into two camps – the werewolf and the shapeshifter – and these are not the same thing, not at all.

What’s the difference, you ask? The werewolf is a slave to the pull of the Full Moon. Come rain or shine, hell or high water, no matter where he is or what he’s doing, when it’s time, he’s going to change, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. But the shapeshifter controls his change, and he’s generally in command of his faculties when he does, so he has the advantage of the hapless werewolf.

What brought about this sudden surge in shapeshifters? I think it was laziness, personally, because some writers didn’t want to deal with having their heroes wait until the Full Moon – they wanted guys that could change at a moment’s notice. And they didn’t want to be confined to once a month. Technically speaking, shapeshifters are not werewolves by their very nature. Doesn’t make them wrong, just different. 

Not only that, but suddenly there are shapeshifting men for every species of animal you can imagine, and maybe a few you never expected to see in a book (or outside of one lol) I remember reading something about treeshifters! Not your every day variety of shapeshifter, you have to admit.

Werewolf or shapeshifter – both are fun to read about and to write about. I think they’re here to stay. I know I enjoy writing about them.

Release Date: 26 January 2014

Availabe: Amber Quill

Find Julie Here

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Blurb: Raoul Marchand is the crown prince of Charisma, the infamous night club in Crescent Bay, renowned for its supernatural clientele. He has the pick of any and all men, but he cares for none. He uses them and throws them away again, and has done so for some twenty years, in the aftermath of a tragedy that robbed him of what he loved most in the world.

Alexx Jameson is an idealistic young would-be reporter with the Crescent Bay Chronicle. Presented with an opportunity to write a story on the Marchands, he eagerly grasps the chance to be a real reporter. His friend, Chronicle receptionist Miller Fenwick, suggests they go to Charisma to do a little research. Alexx isn’t sure that’s such a great idea. After all, he’s still under age, being only twenty. No problem, Miller can fix that! Added bonus, there’s a full moon tonight.

When Alexx first encounters Raoul, it isn’t exactly in the way he dreamed of, and he’s sure he made a terrible first impression. But Fate throws them together under unforeseen circumstances, and the attraction between them can’t be denied. Can Raoul let go of the past long enough to find his future with Alexx, or is he doomed to repeat past mistakes?

Excerpt:

Alexx drew in his breath in dismay. This wasn’t going well. Even so, he could not stop staring at Raoul. His eyes met the other man’s. Raoul’s were very golden; he wasn’t aware such colors even existed in the spectrum of the human eye. But then again, he didn’t have any friends that were werewolves either. He wondered if this was a sign that perhaps this man was about to change, right here and now?

The thought was both exhilarating and frightening.

Alexx’s vision telescoped until he wasn’t aware of anything but this gorgeous man in front of him. Blood pounded in his ears and his mouth felt suddenly dry. Having lost all sense of the others in the room, he was surprised when he felt his chair yanked out from under him. Before he could fall, a hand grabbed the scruff of his neck, propelling him to his feet. He glanced at his companion; Miller was being subjected to the same surly treatment.

“You waste my time for this?” Raoul’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. Alexx found himself wildly attracted to him. “I have somewhere I need to be. Paolo, please show these gentlemen out.” Sarcastic much? He turned and reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it.

A shaggy blond with hazel eyes and a cheerful countenance stuck his head inside. “Hey Paolo—” He interrupted himself at the sight of the occupants of the room.

Alexx heard Miller’s sigh of relief, even as he too recognized the newcomer. He’d seen him around the Chronicle often enough, although he’d never really spoken to him. Foster Levine, son of the Chronicle’s owner—heir apparent and future newspaper magnate.

Alexx’s relief quickly changed to anxiety. What if Foster knew how old he really was? He couldn’t be sure one way or the other, but for the sake of argument, he had to assume he did. Would he out him to Raoul Marchand and his burly minion? Had they simply jumped from the frying pan to be scorched by the fire?

Author Bio:

Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. She enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own drummer is a good thing, after all.  Her published works can be found at Amber Quill Press, Dreamspinner Press, MuseitUp Publishing, Torquere Press, and eXtasy Books. She is also an editor at MuseitUp.  

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The Gaean Prophecies: Admetus Gaea (Jan 25)

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Blurb:

When their world calls for a saviour to come forth--they don't always get what they ask for. Instead they get someone better, who happens to save the world along the way. They get Grayson Gellespie--defender of Admetus Gaea.

Jarkebb Arindad: The banished son of Lord Jondalar Arindad, ruler of the Elven-kind, was sent to find the saviour foretold by the prophecies. He came back with his foster brother and best friend--Grayson.

Grayson Gellespie: Just a man who finds himself thrust into the role as the saviour of a world he believed was nothing but an imaginative story. What does he do when he finds out it's all real? How will he find the way to save them all?

Bailin Greer: Warrior of the Deepwoods Faerie, Bailin is tasked by the Lady to be the saviour's eyes behind enemy lines. What happens when the bad guy isn't the enemy?

Alone they'll fail. Together, their combined forces will have the power to forever change the world in which they live Three stories woven together to tell the beginning of the Gaean Prophecies. Apart from saving the world, our heroes have to fight for the right to be with their bond mates along the way.

CONTENT ADVISORY: As a serial novel, this story has a "to be continued" ending. Stay tuned for further adventures in BROKEN SERENITY, coming soon!

Excerpt:

Prologue

The end

Grayson knew he wasn't born of this world because he could still remember his past, yet he knew with every fibre of his being that he belonged here. The world he now found himself in, and these creatures that lived here, were in his blood. At first he hadn't understood where he was, or how he'd gotten here--or if 'here' was even real. He thought maybe everything he was experiencing was the symptom of some coma-induced dream, filled with the silent stories that his foster brother, Jarkebb, used to tell him. In the end, Grayson found it didn't matter anymore. Here, all those characters he'd always loved and hated so much were now more than just a figment of his overactive imagination.

Here--they were real!

Grayson looked down at his wounded companion, "Let me tell you a story." Closing his eyes, he stroked the long red hair as his friend's head lay in Grayson's lap. It was matted with blood. Grayson didn't know if it was theirs or one of their enemies--and didn't care. Grayson let his mind drift back to the day he woke up and found that he no longer existed. He concentrated hard on the events that occurred just before his life had changed forever. He could almost taste the smoothness of the Baileys on the rocks, could almost feel the warmth that flowed through him as Jarkebb wrapped his arms around him in an excited hug. A smile touched his mouth as he recalled his other life. He didn't want to have to think about the sound of the feet that were marching towards them, knowing that today might very well be the day that they all died.

And so his story began.

* * * *

The beginning

Lord Jondalar Arindad's body prickled with apprehension as he watched the wizard walk toward the Sigale. Even now it filled him with a sense of awe that the gateway still stood proud and tall in the pale moonlight. The sense he got was as if the Sigale knew its very reason for being was for tonight and tonight alone. No one knew for certain just how long the sacred gates had existed. Some say the gates had been this way since the dawn of time. Others say they were a gift from the Great Dragons that had once freely roamed over the skies of Gaea. No one could know for certain until the Great Dragons wished to reveal themselves once more--not like that was ever likely to happen. In all the searches that had been made for their hidden lair, no one had come close to locating the creatures.

The ancient prophecies foretold a stranger who would come as a gift from the Goddess herself. With his arrival, a great change would begin. This change would awaken the Great Ones, and unite all Gaeans as one. Over a thousand generations had come and gone since the last Great Dragon had been sighted.

A thousand generations, during which Gaea had fallen into war and darkness.

A thousand generations in which despair had run rampant until all hope was lost.

The Sigales were created for something. They were meant to change the way of things, yet in recent history this particular gate had been used only twice. Once to send away someone who was banished, and now tonight it was being used to bring that same someone home.

War was coming.

Jarkebb Arindad had been in banishment for the past fifteen years. Now with the great unrest happening between the continents, he was needed home again. His return would bring forth the stranger destined by the Goddess.

The wizard stood before the Sigale. Turning slightly, the wizard looked directly into his eyes to confirm all was in readiness to begin. At the slight inclination of his head, the magic man turned once more to face the Sigale. His whole being seemed focussed upon the incantation he was about to perform. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply of the crisp night air, he watched as the wizard raised his arms towards the heavens and began.

"Ky del aeel ja emryss (I call upon the eye of the world,)

Tam liena na hale ghen (Where creation did begin.)

Ky del aeel fom Belda Gaea (I call upon our Mother Earth,)

Da gil sha sutrhun ralta" (To promise her power within.)

As the wind picking up in velocity, Jondalar's hair whipped about his face as he stared at the wizard's fingers lightly tracing over the intricate patterns upon the surface of the Sigale. The gateway was once more coming alive under his caress. Soon... soon the sacred gate would be fully open between the worlds and his son would be able to return home where he belonged. Jondalar stood and watched, just to make sure the fool wizard was doing everything right. He didn't want to come so close, only to have it ripped away from him.

"Ky del aeel ja Dragon essane (I call upon the dragon's breath,)

Da Dias ja Sigale se frie (To open the gates of time.)

Ky del aeel ja dos nodine (I call upon the four winds,)

Jaey sutrhun da mietscra (Their powers to entwine.)

Ky del aeel ja dye fen sutan (I call upon the sun's own strength,)

Da raden ja janadrae hi (To light the traveller's way.)

Ky del aeel ja santarn dho (I call upon the rainbow's end,)

Tam Gaeae sutan anahol li" (Where Earth's strength does lie.)

The power in the air surrounding them began pulsating like the beating of a heart. The wind's intensity grew stronger, wailing in unison with the sound of the wizard's voice. Jondalar felt as if the very earth itself was rising up to wrap itself lovingly and protectively around his body, their presence responding to the ancient language in which the other man spoke.

As the Wizard Kynnan chanted, Jondalar's thoughts drifted to the beautiful face of the young man who had filled his dreams with nightmares for centuries. These nightmares had vanished with the banishment of his son. Jondalar hoped that his actions tonight would not bring them back once more. For fifteen years, he'd both longed for and dreaded this night because--while his son had been banished--so had the dreams. This wizard had better know what he was doing and not screw things up like the last one had.

"Ky del aeel loscae chenadae roden (I call upon the star's true light,)

Da jahen ja janadrae erros (To bring the travellers near.)

Ky del aeel ja winane bien trel (I call upon the first moonbeam,)

Grietan ralta ja Dragon deoc" (Trapped within a dragon's tear.)

Lightning tore across the darkened sky and thunder echoed through the nearby mountains. Both men could barely keep their bodies upright as the wizard fought to finish the incantation.

"Ky del aeel ja ranae se frie (I call upon the royals of time,)

Da Dias ja Sigale rya winon" (To open the gates as one.)

The wind buffeted around Jondalar's body as he desperately tried to hold onto his footing. The elements felt as though they were both helping and hindering all at the same time. None of that mattered. The only thing that did was the return of his son.

Jarkebb would be here soon.

"Ky del aeel liena gael (I call upon creation's hand,)

Da envay sha baha rhal" (To lead her lost souls home.)

The darkness exploded momentarily into daylight as the full force of the incantation was released around them. The sacred gate now stood aglow. As if by magic, the midday sun had come to replace it. The imagery was there for but a moment before everything imploded into utter chaos.

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