Month: December 2015

The Mender’s Tomb continues the Elfdreams series. Steadfast friends, Magick, many wands, the Mender Fisher, and improbable allies help the first Wandmaker, Yannuvia, bear his burdens, strengthen the fledgling community Vydaelia, and battle against overwhelming odds. The Wandmaker’s life mate, Morganne, struggles with her pregnancy and complex relationship with Yannuvia. Beautiful sea elf Piara also bears burdens and seeks answers to her bond with an ancestor to whom she bears remarkable resemblance and from whom she gained Menderish traits. The unpredictable Good Witch, the Dreamraider Amica, stirs the pot. The Dreamraider also carries a burden. Grayness touches the Wandmaker’s childhood friend, Kirrie, who helps the Good Witch in more ways than one. Will Yannuvia, Piara, Kirrie, and their allies find clues to unravel the mysteries of the Mender’s Tomb and discover bridges between their underworld realm and the World of the Three Suns, Donothor, ancient doomed Sagain, and the pretty blue world with its stone circles? Will fire Magick serve or undo Yannuvia and Kirrie?
Escape to Elfdream! Dr. T’s Rx for fantasy are the following: Deathquest to Parallan, the Orb of Chalar, the Death of Magick, the Chalice of Mystery, the Dawn of Magick, Lost Spellweaver, First Wandmaker, Wandmaker’s Burden, Emerald Islands, and the Mender’s Tomb.

Suddenly Oilill appeared to all in his beard, bright red coat, and pointed cocked hat. He mischievously leapt on to a wall and spun, and then balanced himself on the point of the hat with his heels in the air. He cackled loudly and threw gold coins into the air. The coins landed all around the tavern clanking to the floor. Davey and Timmy dove toward the nearest coins and in so doing knocked Breandan O’Gill’s ale from his hands. The mug fell to the floor and burst into many pieces. Breandan shouted angrily, stood, and moved toward the spinning pint-sized man, all the while calling Oilill a scallywag. When Breandan’s boot hit the ale spilled onto the floor from the broken mug, the big man fell flat onto his backside. Amica scarcely contained her laughter. Davey grabbed a fistful of coins, but the coins crumbled into the same sand that Oilill had thrown into the air. The diminutive person stopped spinning on the tip of his hat, landed on his finely-made pointed-toed shoes, and threw more sand into the air. This time as they flew through the air the granules changed into bits of malodorous skunk oil. Sticky foul-smelling material now covered most of the patrons in the tavern and ruined whatever beverages sat in their mugs.
The barkeep screamed, “Get that blighter!”
Davey O’Dawson added, “It’s a leprechaun! Grab him!”
Once again the little man threw sand into the air and faded from sight. The also invisible Amica stepped aside from her position near the door and fortunately out of the little rascal’s throwing range.

Yannuvia, Fisher, Joulie, and Jonna walked undisturbed for a time.
Then a pungent smell filled the air.
“Quickly! Stand behind me!” Yannuvia shouted.
Fisher obliged, the Spellweaver readied a spell, Joulie sheathed her short sword and notched an arrow into her bow, and Jonna readied her short sword.
Waves of nausea gripped them, and tears poured from their eyes. The Mender dropped to his knees.
“Yuck! What smells so bad?” Fisher plaintively asked.
“Leicat! It’s the lesser evil. Fisher, move against the red oak behind us! Stand near me! Can anyone see anything?” Yannuvia asked urgently.
“I can’t see him!” Joulie shouted with difficulty.
“I can’t see anything!” Jonna added with alarm.
“It smells so bad! What could be worse?” Fisher clamored.
“Something that rends us to pieces,” Yannuvia answered painfully.
The three Drelves ineffectively scanned the area.
“I thought Drelves befriended animals,” Fisher queried.
“Not hungry ones!” Yannuvia answered.
A deep growl pierced the air.
“What now?” Fisher asked fearfully.
“The greater evil, I fear. The other piece of the puzzle! The Baxcat! The dreaded Baxcat and Leicat fight in tandem. The Leicat’s attacks with offensive malodorous secretion that nauseates and blinds intended prey. The saber-toothed Baxcat’s great claws and maw then rip the unfortunate prey asunder. This pair has chosen us for lunch,” Yannuvia asked.
Joulie quickly asked, “Isn’t the Baxcat the one that smells bad?”
Jonna replied curtly, “Does it matter?”

Agrarian returned to the common area at Alms Glen and joined Tull the Teacher and four male Drelvlings. Lukas, Lorenzo, Spencer, and Geary were born during the same Approximation as the young Spellweaver. They were very promising students and hard workers. Harvesting the enhancing root was an honor among the Drelves and the best students were rewarded with trips with the Teacher to Meadowsweet. Three adult Drelves armed with long bows and swords stood with Tull. Agrarian recognized his father’s friend Birney. Birney was an excellent tracker and ascended to a position of leadership among the defenders of the realm of Alms Glen.
“The guards seem a bit unnecessary,” Agrarian remarked to his companion Lukas.
“The Enhancing Root grows only in Green Vale. Our hardiest people live there at some peril. We risk capture or worse. The sentries must go along,” Lukas replied.
“Must we live in fear? The Drolls and Kiennites haven’t attacked us in six years and now seldom stray into our woods. The people from the south keep them occupied. The Great Defender Gaelyss and our ancestor Sergeant Major Rumsie fended them off centuries ago, with the help of strangers and fortuitous Magick. The Teacher sent them packing six years ago. Can we not feel safe in gathering that which we need?” Agrarian scoffed.
“My mother also says that running is always a perfectly good option when one is faced with conflict,” the Drelvling named Lorenzo added.
“But what if your enemy runs faster?” Agrarian asked.

Alo’s alarmed voice split the air, “Enemies! We are discovered! Make ready! To the trees!”
Xenn stood and looked around the stately red oak. Several Drelves deftly scurried up orange elms and red oaks. Five Drelvish archers stood shoulder-to-shoulder and aimed well made bows toward the small meadow. Several large menacing figures emerged from the thick woods to the west.
Standing nearby, Alo cried, “Fire!”
The Drelves’ arrows sped toward the advancing Drolls. An arrow struck one of the seven-foot tall creatures in the middle of its throat and felled him. The remaining arrows hit and barely slowed the advancing enemies. The archers fired two more volleys, turned, and fled to the cover of the underbrush. Their comrades positioned in the lower limbs of the trees.
Xenn directed his left hand toward the charging Drolls, uttered several phrases, and sent a flash of brilliance across the clearing. The Slow Spell retarded the enemies’ movement and enabled Alo and his archers to reach the underbrush. Drelvish archers fired from red oaks toward their slowly moving adversaries and struck down two additional Drolls.
Alo drew his short sword and faced the unenviable task of battling the axe-wielding Drolls hand-to-hand.
Xenn again muttered phrases, sent a mauve ray toward the nearest Droll, struck the beast with an unerring Magick Missile Spell, and slew the wolf-faced enemy.

Rhiann Klarje heard a low-pitched rhythmic rumble akin to the sound of distant thunder or slow heartbeat of a sleeping giant. The sound emanated from the Bloodstone and reverberated against the walls of the small cavern. Dark maroon fluid gushed from the stone with each thump. Rhiann rubbed his fingers against his dirty vest. The sorcerer took a deep breath, left the strange rock, returned to the opened chest, and peered into the little trunk. The chest contained the Tome of Translocation, the Travelers Tome, and fragments of fossilized eggshells from the long-extinct Shypoke. Shypoke eggshell was the essential material component for the spell detailed in the Translocation Tome. The Translocation Spell became one of Sagain’s greatest treasures.
Low-level Teleportation Spells worked over short distances and allowed no encumbrance. The spell caster arrived at his destination nude and defenseless. Word of Return Spells instantly brought the sorcerer back to his sanctuary and allowed some burden. Teleportation and Word of Return enabled little more than escape and produced tiny ripples on the sea of Magick. The boundless dweomer Translocation created great waves.

Dreamless sleep…
Floating aimlessly and thoughtlessly in shades of purple and gray fading to black…
Was she to enter the blackness?
Lancinating pain in her back and shoulder brought her back to consciousness.
Dry mouth…
Horrific taste…
Piara reluctantly opened her eyes. Moving her shoulder intensified the pain. She was lying on a bed of soft seaweed in a brightly illuminated chamber. The plush thick blue seaweed nestled her bare skin. Nudity exposed her shoulder wound, which was dressed with cottonweed, and her protuberant tummy, which she had managed to conceal before leaving Vydaelia and gently compress with her squid bladder suit. Subtle movement in her tummy reassured her. Gray-green sea elfish matrons hurried about the room and tended the wounds of a seriously injured sea elf, who moaned again and again. A young female sea elf stood at the foot of Piara’s bed and relayed to her colleagues, “The prisoner is awake.”
Piara was unable to move her hands and feet.
The young she-sea elf spoke in a dialect that differed from that used by Piara and other sea elf captives in Doug-less, but she understood every word. It was one of 17711 languages in which she was fluent.

The smaller Vydaelian uttered a few phrases and touched the bewildered troglodyte with the small wand. The bipedal reptilian creature whimpered. The Protection from Magick Spell prickled his skin and briefly shocked him. Ravenna noted the simplicity of the spell. The Magick would have not protected the trog from most warding glyphs but apparently was enough to help him through the barrier.
Orylan pushed the Troglodyte through the opening. The beast flew through the aperture, howled, lay on the floor, and whimpered. Ravenna gazed into the Troglodyte’s snakelike eyes.
The simple mind of the troglodyte made an easy target for the red-haired sorceress’s intrinsic Charm Spell. Ravenna obediently placed her hands behind her back and allowed the beast to place the rope it carried around her wrists.
Phynne waved the wand in his right hand and threw some red dust into the doorway. Initially the dust sparkled in the frame of the opening to the cell, but soon the particles fell onto Ravenna’s side of the portal. The larger character pulled a well-made short sword from a sheath in his side and stepped gingerly into the room. The second kept his wand pointed toward Ravenna and walked behind his comrade.
“I’ll skewer you if you don’t cooperate. I know you are a witch! We learned of your skills when you attacked us. Tell me how it is that you don’t show the wear of the seasons that you have been here. Tell me how you do Magick without a wand. Tell me…” Orylan said impatiently.
“Slow down! I’ve just awakened! You must have poisoned me. I’m helpless. What do you persecute me? The smell of the troglodyte is punishment enough!” Ravenna protested.

Lexie preferred subtle mischief to gratuitous deeds. The Lady of the Trees shared Drelves’ love of the forest. Drelves rarely encountered the dryad whilst harvesting the enhancing plant’s tubers in Green Vale, but she watched them from her great oak home and hidden in the taller trees. Lexie particularly enjoyed snuggling in the thick branches of the Tree Shepherd. Usually the immense Tree Shepherd stood silent, but now the massive caretaker of Green Vale uprooted and tenderly harvested a tiny branch from each of his twelve compatriots. After removing each branch the Tree Shepherd soaked the twig within the sparkling waters of the rainbow pool that occupied the center of the knoll upon which thirteen trees stood overlooking Green Vale. The Tree Shepherd pulled a piece of his heartwood and likewise soaked the soft wood in the effervescing waters. Auras filled the area around the Tree Shepherd as he went about his work.
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.
Fire…
Water…
Air…
Earth…
Auras flashed among the circle of friends. The blue stone adhered to and sealed the folded vellum.

Escape to an Elfdream! Dr. T’s Rx for Fantasy
Deathquest to Parallan, the Orb of Chalar, the Death of Magick, the Chalice of Mystery, the Dawn of Magick, Lost Spellweaver, First Wandmaker, Wandmaker’s Burden, Emerald Islands, and Mender’s Tomb
http://www.amazon.com/Benjamin-Towe/…/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1…

Check out exercpts from my 10 books in my recent posts.

Happy reading!