Search

The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

Author

Felix the Fox (Assaph Mehr)

Felix the Fox is a failed magician (not his fault he couldn't pay tuition and got thrown out), a discharged legionary (honourably discharged - even if the dice were loaded), and a full time investigator of crap no one else wants to touch. Assaph is just the guy putting words on paper for Felix.

Lady Hawise (of The Deadly Favour, by Ruth Danes)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a fun-loving, flirtatious young lady, recently widowed and keen to avoid the nunnery. She volunteers to go to Castle Malwarden as a hostage, hoping to make a second marriage afterwards. She is here to tell about a world full of dragons, plots and treachery.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I grew up the world on the other side of the void. You have your smartphones, democracies and airplanes. We have dragons, noble houses, and our own religion. Someone who came over through a portal called us pagans and said our religion reminded her of mediaeval Catholicism. I’m not sure how she would know that. I mean, it is 2015 in both worlds, and she could not time travel.

Still, I wasn’t offended, and I understood what she meant. Our worlds are completely different. You have cybercrime and climate change. We have ongoing wars between different kingdoms and houses, even if we all follow the same religion.

The wars dominated my life as a child. Being high-born only partially shielded me. By the time I was ten, I had lost all of my family, and so I went to stay with my guardians as their ward. It was there that I met Bessy, another noble girl orphaned by war, and we soon became as close as sisters. She is my rock.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Being brought up as a noble child meant I had plenty of material possessions, despite the wars. I confess I have always loved the finer things in life.

I’d rather not talk about my childhood. There are too many painful memories there. I’ve lost too many people, and it’s never been my way to dwell on anything painful longer than I need to.

What do you do now?

Well, I’m widowed without children, and I want to marry again. It’s just unfortunate that my behavior has given me a reputation for being overly light-hearted and fickle. Fun to flirt with, good to lie with and agreeable to spend time with but not the right sort of woman to settle down with. No sensible man will propose to me, and few people take me seriously.

However, I have a plan to make people take me more seriously, which will increase my chances of marrying again in time.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

My latest adventure is a direct consequence of my plan. My house, the House of Lothwold in the Woldsheart, needed to exchange three hostages with our enemy, the House of Malwarden in the Westlands, in order to ensure that a recently-declared truce is kept.

It is customary for children to be exchanged, but the only actual rule is that they have to be of noble blood. By offering myself as a hostage, people will appreciate me more, thus raising my chance of making another marriage. (My absence will also give them time to forget my past behavior).

Continue reading “Lady Hawise (of The Deadly Favour, by Ruth Danes)”

Emmaline (Emme) Mayson (of Mayson-Dickson Mysteries, by Jocie McKade)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a woman thrown into becoming a private detective. She is here to talk about opening her own agency, of murders, betrayals, and dysfunctional family relationships.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

Hey, I’m Emme Mayson, well now, I am. I used to be Emmaline Roberts, until my life got really twisted, like trying pull on spandex panties on a wet body. If you hear a voice in the background it’s my sister Jackie Dickson, just ignore her.

I was raised in a little town call Scrugg’s Corner, Alabama. It’s not too far from Huntsville. My dad raised me, as my mom died when I was two, at least that’s what I was told. Ms. Rose Dushae who babysat me became my ‘mom’, and I trust her on all things. She was widowed and had three sons, so I grew up a ‘tom-boy’. One my early loves was old buildings and I graduated from Auburn University with a degree in Architecture. Go War Eagles! Go Tigers! Hehe, y’all we just do that to confuse Yankees.

Now, I live in Virginia Beach, Virginia with a twin sister I never knew existed. That little tidbit begins our Mayson-Dickson Investigations.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Being raised by a single dad had it challenges. I mean, did you ever try to talk to you dad about ‘girl’ things, or sex, or, well, you get the idea. Bless his heart he did pretty good, but usually he just called Rosie and asked for help, and he always bought me jewelry and it was always a heart.

On the plus side, I can fish, clean it and eat it too. I’ve driven NASCAR race cars and he enrolled me in defensive driving programs. That could be why I terrify my sister when I drive.

“Ya, think?” Came a voice from the background.

I warned you about my sister.

Anyway, I’m a very outdoors girl, and even won the Junior Championship Skeet Shooting contest three years in a row.

While I didn’t know it at the time, the best thing my dad taught me was to be observant and always look for a way out. I did not know how handy that would become.

One thing I’ve always wanted though was to know my mom. I never got a chance, and dad didn’t talk about her much. I think it was just too painful for him.

What do you do now?

I am a partner in Mayson-Dickson Investigations. You might say I fell into the job. Shhh! My sister Jackie Dickson is laughing at me. Alright, I’ll tell the truth Jackie, you just hush. Jackie and I were thrown, yes thrown, into an ‘off-the-books’ Witness Protection program. That is how we ended up in Virginia Beach. “What? I am getting to the point! Yankees. She’s from BOOOSSTTON.” Anyway, as we were trying to figure out what was going on, we walked along the beach and a very dead body washed up, landing on me. Ewww! Ewww! I will never get over that stink.

As we tried to drown our uncertainly with margaritas, we decided we’d make good private investigators, and it would be a legitimate way to look for details as to why we are in this witness protection program.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

So far, we’ve solved a few cases, but as for the investigation into our parents we’ve just gotten more questions than answers. In our second caper YANKEE TENACITY, a murder victim literally falls into the bed of my brand new truck. I’m a pickup truck girl, and, hang on….”Jackie, do not be calling me a redneck. I’m surprised you can say the word since y’all from Boston have no letter “R” in your alphabet.” Sorry, where were we? Oh, ya, dead body in the bed of my truck dressed in a kilt no less.

“I’m getting to it.” Why are Yankees always in a rush? Just let me tell the story.” There are currently four books in the series, and I have a habit of attracting dead bodies. “What’s that?” Oh, that’s my sister’s maniacal laugh. She seems to think it’s funny that dead bodies have a way of, well, finding me.

Our author has a released coming out in late September — Battlemints of Blue — yes, I know it’s misspelled, but y’all will understand when you read it. It begins with the dead body of the director of our Witness Protection program dead…..and gulp……ME being kidnapped. Oh, and the introduction of a new cast member U.S. Marshall Dillon.

Continue reading “Emmaline (Emme) Mayson (of Mayson-Dickson Mysteries, by Jocie McKade)”

Cal Rogan (of his eponymous Cal Rogan Mysteries series, by Robert P. French)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an ex-cop private investigator. He’s here to tell us about living on the mean streets, and coming out of retirement to save an innocent kid from jail.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I grew up all over Vancouver. I only have a vague memory of my dad. My mother and I moved a lot. It was only as I got older that I learned she saved money by defaulting on rent payments so that she could send me to university. Because we moved so much, I didn’t make a lot of friends until I got to high school.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

I guess I had the usual toys, such as my mom could afford. The only vivid memory I have is of watching TV with a man. I guess he was my dad, though I can’t say for sure. It was an old cartoon about a moose and a squirrel I think.

What do you do now?

I’m a private investigator. I started Stammo Rogan Investigations with another former cop, Nick Stammo. Nick was run down by a couple of crooks and he’s in a wheelchair now. He was my partner at the time and I always think that if I could have done more, I could have avoided the event that put him in that wheelchair. It’s funny, in the VPD, we really disliked each other but now we’re partners.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I’d kind of retired from the PI business. There was an unfortunate conclusion to a case of a missing girl who had been abducted. It really soured me to the business of saving people. But when I heard about this kid who was in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, I just had to help him. It was tough. All the DNA evidence pointed to him being guilty of killing his girlfriend but I knew the cop who investigated the murder and he was dirty. I knew I had to help the kid. Little did I know the problems it would cause and that it would put my whole family in danger.

Continue reading “Cal Rogan (of his eponymous Cal Rogan Mysteries series, by Robert P. French)”

Mr Muller (of The New Age: The Caribbean witch, by Vox Deruste)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an other-worldly spirit, here to tell us about the coming apocalypse where one family must survive— where family drama, trauma, and mythical creatures are just the start.


As the door shined with energy inside it, a figure emerges from it. First a handmade of a noxious white gas. Then from it a unnaturally arm and body, all made up of the same smoke with the proportions of a stick figure. The face was nothing but two orbs of pale, sickly white and a closed mouth that occasionally revealed deathly white teeth.

(shifting the neck in cracking manner) Alright, lets get this interview over with. I have business with a tricksy Indian in Puerto Rico about a staff.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

(Smirks with a Cheshire grin) I am not at liberty to share that bit of information but I can share other bits. I am the representative of Europa to the America’s. Back in the glory days of colonization I was sent to make sure that the magical elements of the indian’s-

Why do you refers to the American natives by outdated terms?

(rolls his eyes) fine, the natives, I was sent by the leading magical elements to keep things civil. To make sure the mortals war of conquest would not be interfered with. Agreement the Eura-Asian gods had since the days of Christ.

Why?

(shrugs) I am not asked to question but to maintain but think of it this way. If worship is power and the Christian/Muslim god was allowed to fight the other gods directly…How long would the pagan god’s last. We are lucky the Christian and Muslim prefers to humiliate them. Letting them simmer in hate as his worshiper grows.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

(Muller manifests a sharp weapon, a runic axe that has Norse runes on it.)

I would leave the question of my past behind your prominent thoughts.

(Muller presses the flat of the axe next to the interviewer’s head, and says with cold pale eyes staring into the soul): Unless you wish to know the rage of a Hari.

What do you do now?

As I said earlier its about making sure that the natives give us a fair shake of things. When the magical order of the Pantheons came to the America’s the colonist and native population was split in two. The magical and the mortal. The mortals had their wars and their revolutions while we offered the magical native population the option to keep their traditions and way of life while allowing the colonist to mimic the biggest cities in the magical realms.

In essence, I am the middle man between the city dwelling colonists and rural natives. And the one that prepares the apocalypse on the Europa end.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

(shrugs with little regard) It is as I said and to answer two questions, yes. That is my current duty. The world is dying, the humans poisoned the planet and many magical creature want to reclaim the world they lost. When the Christ was resurrected in Rome, magic began to dimmish in mortal realm so it started as survival. Then the Abrahamic god grew in strength to the point of necessity. And now.

(Muller manifest from his wrist a trio of symbols. A star of David, a star and moon, and a cross. He then tossed them up in the air-slicing them all into pieces with his axe.)

We will reclaim it, when the time is right. For instance, when I get my staff after this annoying interview.

Continue reading “Mr Muller (of The New Age: The Caribbean witch, by Vox Deruste)”

Shelta and Loki (of the Roots and Stars series, by Leia Talon)

Dear readers: Tonight, time-traveling musician Shelta Maclean sits down with Loki, Keeper of Lost Souls and Stories, for a candid conversation. Though Shelta doesn’t meet Loki until book two of the Roots and Stars series, he has watched her since the beginning.

Loki leans back in his chair, his dark suit threaded with silver, and offers to trade Shelta a few of his stories for a few of her songs. She agrees.


Shelta: How did you come by your title: The Keeper of Lost Souls and Stories?

Loki: How many names have you collected over the years?

Shelta: I only had Shelta when I started.

Loki: Now, you’re the Song Weaver. And you’re young. Imagine being immortal.

Shelta: What do you do with your lost souls and stories?

Loki: I give them a home. A family. A library. Sometimes, I give them my attention. Sometimes, I turn my attention elsewhere.

Shelta: Like watching me?

Loki: Like watching you, and your family.

Shelta: Do you remember being a child? Do immortals forget, after so many years?

Loki: I remember. Even then, I was always on the edge of things. My mother is Arianrod, Goddess of the Silver Wheel. Frigga tolerates my father’s adventures, but Odin’s lovers aren’t welcome in Asgard. I grew up going back and forth, sometimes here, sometimes staying with my mother. I helped her gather the spirits of the dead and ferry them to the Otherworld. My youth in Asgard mainly consisted of sparring with Thor and devising plots to upset the tedious routine of living in the palace.

Shelta: You started out as the God of Chaos, didn’t you?

Loki: I’ve displayed enormous talent for mischief, yes, but “God of Chaos” lacks scope, and most legends written about me miss the mark. They certainly don’t reflect who I’ve become.

Shelta: You’ve matured?

Loki: I like to think so.

Shelta: How long have you followed my adventures?

Loki: Since you were birthed into the World Tree.

Shelta: You mean abandoned and flung into the future to bounce through foster homes until I was old enough to live out of vans and lovers’ beds, playing music on the street? Yeah. You’d think I would’ve had an easier time of things with gods watching over me.

Loki: You would’ve had a considerably harder time if we hadn’t been. Your mother guided you to Killian. What perfection that was.

Continue reading “Shelta and Loki (of the Roots and Stars series, by Leia Talon)”

Ekaterina Borisova Komarova, aka Katya (of Déjà Doomed, by Edward M. Lerner)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an electrical and computer engineer, working on the moon. She is here to tell us about about commercial operations, international tensions — and finding alien remains


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

That would be Murmansk: a grubby, rundown, vodka-soaked, Navy port town well into the arctic. What was that like? Cold. Miserable. Depressing. For forty days every winter the fucking Sun never rises there at all.

What was it like growing up? Any cherished memories?

In a word, hard. In two words, damned hard.

Father was a submariner. Not that he wanted to be. Not that any sane person wanted any part of the decrepit, post-Soviet navy. He did it because jobs were scarce. Then, in 2000, the nuclear sub Kursk was lost with all hands. Moscow did its best at first to deny everything, and then to deflect the blame. Mother and I were left with nothing but a pittance of a pension. But Mother was a fighter, and she raised me to be one. It took each of us working two jobs, and sometimes three, but I made it to, and through, university. That made me the first in our family to do so.

I won’t call any of the struggle a cherished memory, but there is satisfaction in the accomplishment. I want to believe Father would have been proud. Even though my degrees are from an academic backwater like Murmansk State Technical University.

What do you do now?

I’m an electrical and computer engineer, and I’m damned good at it. Good enough to get a job on the Moon. Do I understand the ins and outs of helium-3 extraction from the lunar regolith? Of the fusion reactors people yet hope to invent, that our He-3 might someday fuel? No. But I do understand all there is to know about the electronics and computerized controls that make it possible for people to live and work on the Moon. More so, if you ask me, than most snooty, overspecialized types with their fancy PhDs from Moscow universities.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Now there’s a question. First you must know that—despite his delusions—everyone at the Russian lunar base always assumed Yevgeny Borisovich Rudin was an FSB spy. (The FSB is the post-Soviet successor to the KGB. I’m just saying, in case you didn’t know.) He was just too damned interested in everyone else’s business to be anything but a spook. That, and his official job, the lunar version of bush pilot, was just too convenient. The job gave him frequent cover to drop in on any of the several small settlements and research outposts, both international and of any nationality, scattered across the Moon.

So, when Rudin came recruiting—for an undefined project, “somewhere” on the Moon—I wanted no part of it. When he dangled a fat bonus (and how, except with FSB backing, would he even have had access to that kind of cash?) some of the people he approached took the bait. Not me. I never wanted any part of that spook shit. However tempting the money, I said no.

Only for the mine’s senior management to order me to cooperate. Not that they knew any more than me what this was about. The FSB must have pulled their strings, too.

I expected trouble, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Continue reading “Ekaterina Borisova Komarova, aka Katya (of Déjà Doomed, by Edward M. Lerner)”

Gilda Wright (of the Gilda Wright Mysteries series, by Diane Bator)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a woman who landed her dream job as the receptionist at a karate school. She’s here to tell us about handsome instructors, a local bookie, and more mysteries than she’d counted on.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I grew up in the same small town I live in now, Sandstone Cove, on the shores of Lake Erie. My dad was a police officer and my mom stayed at home with me until I was a teenager. It was a safe place for a kid even with the influx of tourists all summer. My friends and I used to ride bikes and spend a lot of time at the beach. I loved to spend time on the front porch listening to my dad and his buddies talk about cases they’d worked on as well as working in the garden with my mom.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

My favourite toy as a child was my bike – until my dad died. He and I used to ride around town and around the shoreline as far as we dared to go. He’s where I got my curiosity for solving puzzles and my sense of justice from. Once my mom went to work for an interior design company, Dad and I spent more time together. Since he died a hero, the town renamed the park near where I now live in his honour. If I need a dose of his wisdom, I simply go for a run there to reconnect.

What do you do now?

What I know now is that my little world isn’t as black and white as I’d thought as a kid. My dad was shot while responding to an armed robbery at a bank and one of my most supportive friends now is in the mafia. It’s both scary and comforting that he sits out front of my house when I get myself into trouble.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

While Dead Without Remorse isn’t about my latest adventure, it does fill in a couple things that readers of the series missed due to an anthology story in between Dead Without Glory and Dead Without Pride. This is the adventure where an explosion leaves a gaping hole in the streetscape where the Nine Lives Consignment Shop and the former Yoshida Martial Arts School once stood.

When police find remains of a bomb—and a body—inside, I need to track a killer before the suspects scatter like debris. Especially after my boyfriend, Mick Williams, crawls out of the rubble! Let me tell you, I was terrified!

Continue reading “Gilda Wright (of the Gilda Wright Mysteries series, by Diane Bator)”

Genie, Whit, and Mei (of Descendants of Avalon, by J. Lynn Else)

Dear readers, tonight we are joined by three friends who claim their friend was kidnapped by an evil wizard. I mean, we were supposed to be joined by three friends who are, well, I guess they’re still out looking for their friend? Wait! Something is happening. Yes! A portal is opening. It appears to be made from water. This beautiful circle is expanding on the wall, opening up to–oh my! Lo and behold, we’ve now been joined by three young women. High school ages I would guess. Behind them are lovely trees and a city up in the—no wait! The portal closed. (heavy sigh) Well, welcome guests! May I get your names?

Girl 1: Hi, I’m Genie. Sorry we’re late.

Girl 2: I’m Mei.

Girl 3: And I’m Whit. Hello!


So, portals! That’s an interesting way to travel. Tell us about why you’re here.

Whit: First of all, thanks for having us. We’re all excited for this opportunity. 

Mei: Though we can’t stay long. Beth, that’s our other friend, she’s being held captive. So yeah, Morgana gave us, like, 10 minutes to spread the word.

Genie: Sorry about that. You’ve heard of Morgana, right? AKA Morgan le Fey? Basically, one of the bad guys from Arthurian legend. While I still have my suspicions, she is helping us rescue Beth, so there’s that. She’s pretty strict about things being her way or the highway, and I thought she was going to curse us just for asking for 10 minutes.

So where are you all from? Is it where you portaled from? Oh look, I think I just made a new word. Portaled.

Mei: That is strictly classified. I mean, I’d like to tell you, but.

Whit: We’re actually just visiting there. It’s so pretty in Av–. I mean, that av-idly magical place. 

Genie: Whit is the smooth one of the group, as you can obviously tell. Ouch! Watch the elbows, Whit. Anyway. We’re not supposed to let the outside world know this land still exists.

Mei: I tried to take a selfie, and Morgana zapped my phone. So not cool. It’d better work after we find Beth and go home.

Genie: We’re actually from this small town in Northern Minnesota. Its near Hinckley, if you’ve ever been to the Casino there. The cell phone reception is the worst, but we discovered we have a portal connecting us to a magical land.

Mei: Talk about well-disguised. No way would you guess it’s secret. It’s this old, crusty fountain that we made a wish into. The waters are all orangish and gross. Like you’d never guess it was a magic fountain.

Whit: (whispering) I think they get it.

Mei: (louder) Even if you had a thousand guesses–

Genie: Anyway! We made this wish and apparently an evil wizard now wants to capture us and our wishes. His minions got to Beth. So now we’re on a quest to rescue her. We could use your help, if you could spread the word.

Why does this wizard want your wishes?

Genie: He’s using coins thrown in wishing wells to reforge Excalibur. Basically, he’ll be able to cut himself free from the bonds of his prison and take over Earth since there’s all this dormant magic we’re not using anymore.

Mei: I guess he’s got Excalibur’s hilt, but no one’s seen the blade since King Arthur died or something. That right, Genie? She’s the King Arthur expert in our group.

Genie: You know, Morgana is pretty hush-hush on the details there. Total sus.

Whit: Maybe she’s just misunderstood.

Mei: Watch out, Genie, Viviane may call you arrogant again if you keep on judging Morgana.

Genie: Don’t remind me! So embarrassing.

Whit: Viviane is the Lady of the Lake, by the way.

Genie: Yes, well, Viviane and her friend the misunderstood dark sorceress said this wizard is using people’s hopes and dreams that they imbue into their wishes to reforge the blade.

Mei: So now we’re kicking robes and taking names.

Robes?

Mei: Wizards wear robes, don’t they?

Got it. So what’s the scariest thing in your adventures so far?

Whit: Val’s sword training.

Mei: Morgana’s beady eyes always watching us.

Whit: The bruises I have from Val’s sword training.

Mei: Morgana turning into a raven. She’s like Edgar Allen Poe’s dream girl. Can you imagine what a meeting of those two would be like?

Genie: Seriously, no. It was those Betwixt creatures that attacked us. Twice.

Mei: They’re not scary at first. Stout little dudes with giant puffs of hair.

Genie: They are when they morph into different creatures to try and trick you. And when they have swords they can use effectively. Cause, we can’t use our swords.

Mei: YET. Can’t use swords yet. But okay, you win.

Continue reading “Genie, Whit, and Mei (of Descendants of Avalon, by J. Lynn Else)”

Ervig Greenfields (of Dragonborn, by Donna Sundblad)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a prison guard, talking about self-sacrifice for the greater good, how humans join with the dragons to become Dragonborn, and his adventures as he slipped through a tear in time to the past to change the future.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

In my early childhood, I lived in Resallat’s capital, Prudek. My father was the glasssmith there. I started to learn his trade while very young, but I lost my parents in a tragic mudslide. So I went to live my grandmother on her small farm on the outskirts of Prudek, in the foothills. It wasn’t an easy life, but we helped each other through the loss. I grew strong, developed an interest in the different purposes of plants, and learned how to work without complaining.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

I didn’t have many toys, but my father had crafted a stick horse for me. I remember galloping around in the glassmaking shop which was at the front of our home. Da and Mother were always telling me to “take care.” Then one time I bumped the table and a tall bottle fell and knocked the next, and the next until they all came crashing down in bits. From then on no riding allowed in the shop. Da started teaching me how to blow glass orbs and a few basic shapes, but then the accident happened. I’m not sure what happened to my horse when I moved in with Grandmother. Life totally changed. I had to grow up pretty fast. We both worked hard, but we had a good life together.

When my chores were done, I used to sit in the shade of the nut tree watching dragons circle over the mountains to the north and wondering what it would be like to fly. To visit places beyond the mountains. Grandmother watched them too. She said that dragons communicated with animals but only very special people. I was still young enough to believe her and said, “I wish I was special like that.” I can still see her smiling at me and saying, “I think you are, but that would be up to the dragons.” For a good while I believed such tittle-tattle, until the other children at school started calling me a dull-headed nimwit. I still watched the dragons circle, but overtime I didn’t believe in them the same way. Then Grandmother died just as I was coming of age. I closed up the house and moved to Prudek. There I found work as a prison guard. It provided a place to live and a wage. I liked the discipline and the work except for the dungeon. I hated the dark and the odor smelled like death.

What do you do now?

That’s a bit complicated. I’m what you call Dragonborn. Not something I’m free to talk about in full, but since you live on this side of the portal, I can tell you that the Dragonborn are part of a select group of humans who have joined with the dragons to overcome the evil of a living book I came into contact with through a prisoner. He cursed me with its dark magic. As part of my oath to the dragons, I must be careful how much I say about some things, so if I sound like I’m evading a question, you would probably be right. I can tell you that the curse trapped me in an…unhuman body. Don’t ask me more. I’m not saying, but he locked me in that dungeon, in the dark, and I didn’t even have a voice I could use to call for help. Long story short, I thought back to my Grandmother’s teaching about the dragons. She said they had powerful magic and with no other options, I hoped they might be able to help me…maybe even change me back. If they didn’t eat me first.

Because I wasn’t human, I found a way of escape. I made my way to the mountains, to the dragons. I kept calling with my mind believing that dragons could communicate with animals who can’t talk, it made sense to me. I thought of nothing but the dragons while keeping my eyes open for predators like snakes and hawks. The suns hung low in the sky when I broke through the foliage and onto a wide stone ledge. A dark shadow loomed above me and asked. “Who calls for help?”

As you can see, I’m human again. The dragons offered access to the Labyrinth of Times. Within the corridors of time, all magic, other than dragon magic, is erased. But there was a catch…a cost. I can tell you no more, for I gave my word. But, I can say, that I work with the Dragons across time to shut down the Book Darkmore. I’d like to say destroy it, but it can’t be destroyed.

You work with dragons then. What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Adventure? Well, that same prisoner who changed me into…something else. He escaped from the dungeon and stole people’s identity. I mean their face, voice, how they dressed. Everything. The dragons wanted to get the book and I wanted to get the prisoner. So we worked together. But when we found him, he looked like my friend Claus and was ready to escape into the Labyrinth through an unsanctioned portal. The book’s dark magic gave him that power, but that forced opening into the Labyrinth also caused a tear in time and a vulnerability. Everything that Book does is bad for the world. As we spotted him, the portal was swirling with red energy. He stepped through, and I ran after him and jumped through. As it closed, I hit the floor in the darkness. Pain wracked by body as I turned back into a man. I had to get that book away from the prisoner, because as long as he had it, he could draw power from it, but if I got the book away from him, it would draw life from him. He’d get weaker, and lose his magic.

Continue reading “Ervig Greenfields (of Dragonborn, by Donna Sundblad)”

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑