Welcome to BOGO November 27-30.
Leave a comment to request a signed copy or freebie if you’ve purchased elsewhere.
Links to my 10 fantasy novels:
Amazon:
Authorhouse:
http://bookstore.authorhouse.com/AdvancedSearch/Default.aspx?SearchTerm=Benjamin+Towe
BN:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Benjamin+Towe?_requestid=262348
KOBO
https://store.kobobooks.com/search?Query=benjamin+towe
Holiday BOGO with 15 authors
November 27-30… excited to be part of this group!
Denice Garrou Amy Riddle- DeClerck Margaret MacKay Hefferman Carol March Devorah Fox Ivey Taijeron Sylvia Stein Guy Donovan Tessa McFionn Teri J. Dluznieski Jamie White Valerie Hemlin Peggy Sue Bartlett Stankiewicz Benjamin Towe
Yannuvia had never seen water sprites. He listened intently.
Illarie jumped from the thick red grass on the bank of the slowly flowing brook, launched her two-foot long body into a perfect arch, and split the water gently. Disturbing the water of the stream as minimally as possible was the water sprite’s goal and the point of the game.
“Good one!” laughed Condee as she watched from the lowest branch of the great red oak that shaded the brook from the amber light of the little yellow sun Meries.
“I can do better!” Ellspeth boasted.
She flipped her fiery red hair over her dainty shoulders, gracefully leapt into the air, and dove flawlessly. Her tiny frame created no disturbance as she entered the peaceful brook.
“Yeah!” Condee shouted gleefully.
She extended her little light blue hands. Playful sparks of many colors sprayed harmlessly into the air around the blue-haired sprite.
“No fair! No fair!” Illarie protested. “She used Magick! I detected the ‘part water’ spell. You cheated!”
“These are powerful foes. Any chance of success that we have
depends on separating them. The layout of their lair works in our
favor. If we can get past the giant captains, I’ll ‘Wizard Lock’ the
doors. I doubt the giant captains are capable of ‘Dispel Magick.’ We
must use stealth and great caution. If I could sneak past the dragon,
I could also ‘Wizard Lock’ the distal doors,” Roscoe stated.
Rabe commented, “Why not attack the giant captains fi rst?”
Roscoe continued, “There’s a chance we might get an element
of surprise on the dragon. Even a small advantage could mean a lot.
If…”
Knuth responded, “That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, wizard. This is not just
any dragon. It is old- very old. The dragon detected me. I was
small, invisible, and silent. I’m a pretty good ‘sneaker’ and I was
nearly caught. How do you propose we get by the giants and more
importantly the dragon? I think we should anticipate fi ghting them
all.”
Roscoe didn’t answer.
At the moment that the outer door closed, a secret door opened on the opposite wall. A shadowy creature entered the room and stood near the odd table. The beast appeared friendly, stood the height of an elf, and had the stature of a goblin. The furry little beast swayed rhythmically, pressed the ivory extensions with three of its four hands, and filled the room sounds- a repeating bass rhythm under a freely and elaborately syncopated melody.
Knuth said, “I think I feel bad!”
Ravenna added, “I… I have the blues!”
Rabe Thayers and Foutte started dancing.
“It’s a boogie man!” Roscoe shouted.
“Cover your ears!” Knarra added.
It was too late. The entire party danced. It was impossible to control their weapons or effectively conjure. They heard faint pounding from the hallway- their comrades tried to reopen the portal to the room.
Ravenna sang, “I’m going to dance all night. I’m going to dance all night.”
She shook her red hair wildly and twisted her backside in a rhythmic fashion.
The matron Evelynn ran toward Tiffanne and gleefully shouted, “Raise your voice, child! The Approximation! Andreas draws near! We must break for Alms Glen and make ready!”
Tiffanne appreciated the matron’s glee. However, a tinge in her lower tummy and the vigorous kicking of her unborn Drelvling kept her from celebrating. The group made the four-hour return trip to Alms Glen. Tiffanne’s labor pains intensified with the gray light. Her time drew near. Experienced Drelvish midwives rushed to Tiffanne’s red elm home. Rangers summoned her life-mate Ascher from his duty station at the meadow of lament, where the ancient Lone Oak once stood majestically. The Gray Sun steadily approached the land and concentrated dense grayness upon the tree where Tiffanne was confined. The Teacher Boyd returned from Meadowsweet just as the nymph arrived.
Boyd recalled conversations with the young couple Ascher and Tiffanne and their chosen names. The Teacher excitedly acknowledged the birth of their son, “Myrren arrives with the gray light! A Spellweaver! The first since the Great Protector Gaelyss! We are blessed!”
Ascher smiled.
Tiffanne corrected the Teacher, “Thank you, Teacher, but his name is Xenn.”
Greenness appeared only in unripe fruit of the rare tetra berry bush, the Green Vale, legendary Emerald Isle, and rarely envious folks. Drelvish garb blended into their orange-yellow-red surroundings and complemented the forest folk’s natural chameleon-like ability. The little green robe stood out against the trees, mosses, and grasses. Tiffanne playfully inserted her index finger into the garment’s tiny left sleeve. The green robe instantly enlarged, covered her protuberant tummy, and perfectly fit her. Tiffanne marveled at the softness of the lightweight material and reluctantly removed the robe. The odd garment shrank to its former size.
The olden Tree Shepherd laboriously removed another precious section of his heartwood, pressed it into pulp, and formed vellum. The patriarch of Green Vale used a Phoenix feather as a quill and his purple sap as ink and painstakingly etched letters of the language of the Old Ones of Sagain. The protector of the Thirttene Friends completed the extended epistle and carefully folded the unique parchment. Next the Tree Shepherd produced piece of petrified blue wood. Odd runes covered the artifact.
Ǿ ∞ Ǿ
∞ Ǿ ∞ XIII ∞ Ǿ ∞
Ǿ ∞ Ǿ
The Tree Shepherd uttered lyrical phrases.
A face appeared in the simple little she-Drelve’s mind. Kindly and beautiful, the matronly female had smooth, lovely white skin and deep blue eyes. Soft blonde hair fell gently down the length of her back. She was as tall as a Droll, which made her twice Tiffanne’s height. She wore a long flowing robe made of cottony fabric that exposed smooth hands with well-groomed nails.
The kindly mature woman spoke barely above a whisper and said, “Your child arrives soon. He’s special, and you should give him the name Xenn. Rest well.”
Blueness surrounded the lovely matron and she faded from Tiffanne’s dream. When she awakened, the expectant mom discovered a tiny well-made green robe lying by her on the mossy ground. The robe was emblazoned with the name Xenn written in old Drelvish and three symbols.
Ǿ ∞ Ǿ
Kirrie opened her eyes, turned to the Teacher who lay prone on the ground, and said, “His name is Dallas. He’s ready to serve, though he’ll only follow my commands. At least that’s what he…and I guess the rock says.”
Edkim stood.
The Teacher asked, “Isn’t Dallas an odd name for a wyvern?”
“He says Edkim is an odd name for a Drelve, Teacher,” Kirrie answered.
benjamintowe 