March Madness Blog Hop
Today I am pleased and excited to be participating in the Clean Indie Reads March Madness Blog Hop! We'll get to the post in a little bit, and it's a rare treat, an excerpt from Yorien's Hand, one of my favorite moments in the story. But first, a few announcements.The blog hop coincides with our March Madness Sale. All this week, many Clean Indie Authors are having a massive sale for their books. King's Warrior and Second Son are both only 99 cents all week! For the list of titles that are on sale, visit THIS SITE, or go peruse our PINTEREST BOARD.There are quite a few other authors involved in the blog hop, and each of us is giving away an e-copy of one of our books! So make sure you enter the giveaway, and go visit some of their sites. For a complete list of the blogs participating in the hop, go HERE. And enter the giveaway for your chance to win the GRAND PRIZE. You can enter your information at each blog you visit, and the more times you do, the greater your chances to win!I can't get the google form to work, but you can enter the giveaway HERE. And now, on to the blog post - one of my favorite scenes between two of my favorite characters:
Excerpt fromYORIEN'S HAND
Brant had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had forgotten about Kiernan Kane’s presence. There was a long silence. It stretched into the night, but it was not altogether uncomfortable. Brant squinted out into the darkness and when he spoke again he did not turn to look at the minstrel.
“A long time ago you wished to tell me a story about a second son who was destined to become king. I would hear that story now.”
Kiernan Kane smiled quietly in the darkness. “You do remember then, I thought perhaps you had forgotten that meeting.”
“I did not forget the meeting, but I had forgotten the face of the minstrel. It was you who sent me on my first quest to find Yorien’s Hand.”
“You are mistaken if you believe that,” Kiernan said quietly. “I did no sending.”
“You knew I would go after the star, that’s why you told the story. What I would like to know is what you thought to gain by sending me.”
“I sought nothing.”
“I do not believe that.”
“Believe as you wish.”
There was silence again. Brant still did not look at the minstrel, but even so he was studying the other intently. At length he spoke again.
“What of the second-son who was destined to become king?”
“I think you already know that story, Warrior.”
“I would hear how your version of the story ends.”
“Many people believe they would like to hear how their story ends, but when they are given what they wish they cringe from it in fear and spend the rest of their time and strength trying to deny it or avoid it. Nobody ever really wants to hear the end of the story, they simply want to hear that everything will turn out all right.”
“Will it?”
Kiernan Kane sighed. “I can see much, Brant, but I do not see all. I know the stories and the ancient texts. Whether they are prophetic or not remains to be seen. Every story that I tell or pass along is true, and is intended to reveal that truth, but the result, the ending, is never clear. The stories shed light on what will come. They almost always describe a battle between what is hoped for and intended versus what is feared and altered. My stories are not for amusement, but I know that if a story is not entertaining it is quickly forgotten, and that is never my purpose. I am not a wizard or a sage as you may wish to think. I am a minstrel. No more than that.”
“You are more than a common minstrel,” Brant said quietly. “You appear to be in your late twenties or maybe early thirties, yet you must be much older. I remember our meeting over thirty years ago and you look younger today than you did in Yochathain when first we met. I have heard many stories in my training and travels, but none like the ones you tell. You speak of events from thousands of years ago, but you do not do so as though they are stories passed down from father to son. Your songs speak as though you were there, eyewitness to these events, telling the story as intimately as if you had been there. My whole life has been applied to training, studying, working with little time for leisure or pleasure, and yet I could continue that effort for ten lifetimes and not have the command of so much knowledge and insight as you. The only conclusion that makes sense is that you have lived an unequalled span of life.”
Kiernan Kane shrugged. “Some are bound by time, others are bound by something else, but in the end we are all bound. You are mistaken on many counts, but I shall only address two tonight. First, our encounter on Yochathain was not, as you suspect, our first meeting. And second, I truly do not know the end of this story. I may know more than you, but that does not have to mean that I am your enemy. And as for the caliber of my stories and songs, well, perhaps I am merely a better wordsmith than any other minstrel you have had the pleasure of hearing?”
Brant whirled on the minstrel angrily. “You are just like all the rest of them, never speaking clearly, never saying what you mean! The prophecy that destroyed my life, the lives of my family, of everyone I held dear, what was its purpose? Will I ever be free of its curse?”
“It is a gift you have been given, not a curse. The knowledge of yourself and of what you can become is never a curse, and neither are its words binding unless you let them control you.”
“I could not control the way that others interpreted their meanings though,” Brant muttered bitterly.
Kiernan shook his head and there was deep sadness in his eyes. “No, but then that is the nature of things. You cannot control the reactions of others, only your own.”
Brant sighed wearily, his anger gone. “So what have you sent us on then, with your words of the past and your hints of the future? Are you taking us to our deaths? Oraeyn believes so. He has not said as much but I can see it in his eyes, perhaps he has had some vision of his own. Are you leading us to glory and triumph or to ruin? What do you see for us on this adventure that you have set us on?”
“Brant, I seldom lead... and never to glory or triumph. My hope... my purpose, is ever only to safeguard Tellurae Aquaous and its people. I do not know if this journey leads us to our deaths or to victory. I only know for certain that this quest is our best course of action and in fact our only hope.”
“I don’t know what game you are playing, minstrel, but I warn you to consider carefully who you are up against if you mean to do harm. My entire life has been dictated by prophecies and the consequences are always very real and very painful. I despise people like you who play with the lives of others and then leave them to deal with the ruin and clean up the mess you create with your words.”
“The words are not mine. I merely carry a message.”
“Not this time,” Brant returned fiercely. “Not this time.”