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Caltro Basalt (of the Chasing Graves Trilogy, by Ben Galley)

Dear readers, tonight we have something different. We reprint an interrogation of a protagonist by a border guard. The guard is rightfully suspicious, as the protagonist is a master thief, a selfish drunkard, and as it happens, stone cold dead.

‘Name?’ asked the demanding crow behind the tower-like lectern. Her break of a nose was impressive enough without somebody playing the practical joke of dressing her in feathers.

‘What in the One-Eyed God’s arse-crack is this?’ I spluttered. ‘I’ve already given my name to the port-master—’

‘Name!’ she yelled. ‘No dawdling! By order of the Allmark, refuse to answer and it’ll be the cells for a rancorous ghost like you.’

‘My name is Caltro Basalt. And what a fine welcome home this is, I must say. I sail all this way from the city of Araxes only to be greeted like a leper? I am a free soul, I tell you.’

‘Home, you say?’ The crone sucked on the end of her quill. ‘Where did you grew up?’

‘Taymar, here in Krass, if you insist on knowing my history. Near the mountains of Kold Rift.’

‘Who’s your family?’

‘I have none.’

‘Your people, then! Or are you refusing to answer?’

In my peripheries, I saw stout Krass guards inching closer, looking eager to teach a ghost like me a lesson.  There were many in Krass who were not fond of my kind. Yet all kinds of locks and doors can be opened with a smile. I tried one on.

‘Not in the slightest, scribe. I have no people. I was born to a pair of healers who lived on the wild steppes. They had me late in life to cure their boredom and had the dream of me continuing the family trade. I preferred stealing things instead, you see. It started with my parents’ clothes and trinkets, then food from the village markets. Enjoyed the thrill of it so much I joined a few Taymar gangs to hone my skills and my nerve. Can’t tell you the number of times my father came to retrieve me from the local prisons, spending hard-earned coin on bribes or favours. I was too young to realise I was dragging my parents’ reputations through the mud and towards penury. When I turned twelve, I didn’t think twice about running away. I did it for me, but in a way, it was to give my parents the peace they deserved. My parents both died the winter after. Swelterflux, the letter said, but it was their time. Quick and painless, and their ghosts didn’t rise. They were buried by the Nyx under a lemon tree with a copper coin in each of their mouths, and through guilt I stayed in Taymar for almost a decade.” I was impressed I’d kept my smile. ‘Does that answer your question?’

Continue reading “Caltro Basalt (of the Chasing Graves Trilogy, by Ben Galley)” →
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Ornithez (of Three Shades, by J.D. Grubb)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a vulture, guiding an unwitting a warrior on a quest on the behest of the Wind Maker.

Tell us a little about where you grew up.

I was born upon the wind.

Gliding through the sky, my untrained strength carried by a warm, soft air current, a voice called to me: “Welcome to Rühílawé.”

I turned my unfocused eyes down to see another—one who has been carrying me on his back.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am.” The voice is like a whisper of the air. “Power.” Thunder rumbled from dark clouds hovering over the span of Oceanus below. My heart shudders. “Presence.” The form of the speaker becomes clearer in my sight. “Unity.” His brown feathers shimmered with sunlight, their white tips translucent. “Breath.” He smiled, gliding playfully up beside me. “Könethel.”

The Wind Maker.

This was my beginning.

From there, he taught me to read the sky and navigate the present. I learned to cherish the shelter of the trees, their firm branches and rough bark the foundation of my rest. I do not hide in the shadows of the woodlands, however. My wilderness is the sky, my perspective keenest from above the cacophonous, cluttered lowlands with all their walkers’ comings and goings. My domain is freer, simpler, and at peace.

Until the dragon came.

The realms above and below collided with war. The sky became dangerous.

“You must leave Rühílawé,” the Wind Maker told me. “I need your eyes elsewhere.”

What do you do now?

I was sent across Oceanus to a land even more tarnished by war. In its northernmost reaches, beyond the Mountains of the Crescent Moon, a dry sandy desert stirred with factions of a warring race. The Wind Maker charged me to observe one particular tribe.

“They are called the Thraz,” the Wind Maker explained. “One day, a warrior will rise from their ranks and see the world clearer than the rest. Befriend and watch over him. You have my sight and an echo of my voice. He will need both.”

Continue reading “Ornithez (of Three Shades, by J.D. Grubb)” →
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Camilla (of Heart of Fire, by Raina Nightingale)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a woman who never believed that humans can’t bond with dragon, and has thought this was just lies spread by elves. She is here to tell us about the unique opportunity presented to her when she found a dragon’s clutch ready to hatch.

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

It was one of those Wood Elf communities in Ilesh on that other continent I have to go back to – I don’t remember or care if they had any names! They kept us humans as slaves for generations and generations, and I would rather not talk about it. It was really unfair, because we have such short lives compared to them already, stealing our lives so they can have even more luxury is just atrocious! They deserve what happened to them when the Northern Horror came, but I also sort of wish it hadn’t, because that makes rescuing Mom and freeing my people something that might not happen. If they are all dead.

But the seasons were a lot milder over in Ilesh. I don’t ever want to be in Ilesh again, but I like the seasons there a lot better, especially since the cold hurts Radiance’s wings.

Is there anything about your childhood you can enjoy talking about? Any special memories?

Not really. Because everything reminds me either of those cursed Wood Elf slave masters, or of my Mom and the fact I might not be able to rescue her, and everything that’s lost! I don’t have a lot of really nice memories, but one thing that really helped me at times was I can do this thing only Wood Elves are supposed to be able to do: I can shadowblend, so you don’t really notice me. I wasn’t nearly as good a mage then as I am now, so I couldn’t do it well compared to them, but enough for a moment of quiet sometimes, and enough to make me laugh inside at all that stuff they said about humans being inferior and incapable ….

But a memory I like? Mom showing me Dad’s favorite constellation, the Dolphin. He died in an accident before my brother was even born, so Lavilor never knew him at all, and I don’t remember him very well. That’s about all I have of him. So it’s sad, but also special.

What are you doing right now?

Right now, Radiance is carrying a clutch of eggs, so we have to wait for her to lay those and for them to hatch before we go off and do anything. We can’t even fly off to find  the potential riders for her eggs! It’s really unnatural, by the way. Dragons shouldn’t  have to hatch until they want to, and the only reason these do is because those cursed Wood Elf life-mages changed them! But we want our hatchlings to be able to choose riders who are suited for them, unlike so many others, so other Dragonriders are helping to gather as many children and young people as we can for when the eggs are ready.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

That I wish it had never happened, though maybe it was a good thing and showed me that I’m not really ready, so I can become ready. But I do not know, and I do not want to talk about it.

What did you first think when you saw the Wizard-King?

Oh, so you know about  that somehow? Because that really is the thing I do not want to talk about! But, I guess I’ll give you an answer anyways, though who let that out? Or was that me? Seriously, how many people know about that? Did my scream reach everyone? Oh no!

He looks dead. Not just looks dead, but feels dead, too. Not he. It.

What’s the most frightening thing to you?

Will you just leave that alone already? I don’t know why you are interested in this! But to me the most terrifying thing is that some powers – like the Wizard-King – seem to be able to violate other’s free will. But it’s really not something you  or I should be thinking about. I got so many things wrong in my relationship with Radiance by letting these kinds of questions and concerns shape my thinking into something that wasn’t really what I believe, though it sounded so much like I was deceived for far longer than I should have been.

What is the worst thing about being the Dragon-mage – that is you, right?

<An exasperated, angry sigh> Some people have called me that, yes. Are they really doing it out in the world so everyone can hear them?

The worst thing about it is that it’s really confusing. Power should come from loving and being free at heart. I am certain that’s where my power comes from, and from how I and Radiance love each other. Yet other people, who I’m sure, don’t love any less than I do, or desire freedom any less than I do, and maybe even better, don’t have this power! I shouldn’t be more powerful than anyone else, unless they’re evil. No one should be! Just let me stop thinking about this stuff, would you?

Well then … what is the best thing about being a Dragonrider?

<A smile> That Radiance is always with me. We’re two different people, and yet we’re one, too. There’s some things I sometimes find difficult about figuring out how to respect her, but it really is the best thing ever. We share everything, and that when we share what makes us happy, it makes us even more happy! It really is everything I ever dreamed, and so much more!

Tell us a little about your friends.

I’m kind of confused about what I even think about friendship, or if I want it, outside of Radiance! I suppose my little brother, Lavilor, is a good friend, though he doesn’t seem so little anymore. He grew up a lot while I was away for a short while, but it seems to be all in good ways, and he really cares about me. There is also this other Dragonrider named Teladri. She’s trying to be a friend, and she’s nice, I think, but I’m not even really sure what that means or how I feel about it!

If you don’t have friends, is there any romance in your life?

What?!  … Oh, that! Ask Radiance, maybe! Not in mine, and I don’t want to talk about it, but I told you she has eggs. So you know that means there’s someone.

But you probably can’t talk to her anyways. Most people don’t hear dragons, at least not most of the time. But that’s her life, her choices, not mine, and it’s one part of her life that I prefer to be left out of.

What’s your favourite way to relax?

It’s not very relaxing most of the time, but I am trying to make art! Right now, I’m trying to do designs with sand. I might get into carving, because I just really want to depend on other people’s help for this as little as possible. It’s a lot more frustrating that I imagined it would be to get what I see in my thoughts to come out, though I guess I didn’t really imagine how it would be, only realized I might be interested in it!

But flying with Radiance is pretty relaxing when it is warm! Splashing with her in the hot pools all over Aros Cor – at least the ones we’re both comfortable in – is the best thing when it is cold.

What future do you see?

What do …

Oh, Radiance is answering this for me. She says we are definitely flying to defeat the Wizard-King, and it is unlike me to be concerned I can’t do it. But  it won’t get away with hurting her rider like that, and every doubt or fear I have only makes her more determined that we will destroy it.

Besides, she would never leave that sort of thing in the same world as her hatchlings and their riders. They must grow up free and safe and  it is the greatest threat.

So if I listen to her, we’re going to sit these eggs until they hatch, make sure all the hatchlings and their riders are happy and healthy, and then we’re going to destroy the Wizard-King and come back alive!

Can you share a secret with us, which you’ve never told anyone else?

I already have – how many people do you think have heard about Dad’s constellation? And you are asking for more? What do you even want? I don’t have a lot of secrets! And certainly don’t expect me to share a secret that Radiance and I don’t share! There are very few of those, none really, and certainly none either of us would share with anyone else! At this point, I do not like you anymore!

Raina has been writing fantastic tales since she could write stories with the words she could read. She writes dawndark fantasy with rich world-building, characters who feel like real people, and a touch of the philosophical or spiritual! She believes that the magic of fairytales does not need to pass away just because of modern beliefs about the universe and galaxies. And she definitely loves dragons and volcanoes.

You can find Camilla on the pages of Heart of Fire.

Browse our archives for past interviews, or follow the site by email (bottom-right) to know immediately when your new best-book-friend makes an appearance.

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Rogan (of Forward Banners, Jamie Powell-McCrae)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a recently ascended prince, here to talk leading his people against ruthless invaders to his kingdom.

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

I’m Rogan, Prince of Blythinia – the central kingdom of Elyria, and younger brother to Rodar.  We both reside at the capital, Blythia, the seat of power of our late father.  It is a pleasant place: a sprawling city atop a hill, that sits both overlooking the upper lake of the River Slow Water and nestled beneath the first marches of the Spine mountains that separate the kingdoms of men from the north and the distant elurons.  Blythia is both rugged yet beautiful, modern yet old.  I’ve spent all my life there, apart from following our father to neighbouring Courlan to visit the Rennes, his – and now our – great allies.  Other than that I spent my three years at the Citadel like all of my rank and birth, learning the ways of war, courtly affairs and scholarly, educated strands.

You mentioned your father; what happened there?

He passed away nearly a year ago.  Unfortunately, I would be lying if I said I was stricken about it.  He and I never saw eye to eye.  Rodar was his favourite son, the very image of him in fact: cock-sure, confident, a talented soldier.  He decided to take Rodar with him to Sacaria during the troubles with the Avonners, whilst I was due to be married off to some merchant’s daughter.  Rodar would rebuke me for saying, but I think things have turned out for the better, despite King Jaime being perhaps the best military leader we need against this invasion plaguing Elyria.

What will you do now in light of your father’s passing and this invasion?

My brother and I will share rule and forego the expected passing of power to the eldest son.  Rodar’s a capable military man and will be able to lead our forces against this new threat.  I have confidence in him, and so too do the generals.  We have mustered all our strength and marched south to meet this invading force of ‘Bronzemen’ as they are commonly called.  The pride of Blythinia has ridden out: the White Lancers, the Retinars, our personal Blue Cloaks.

What has been your greatest achievement?

I suppose it would have to be ascending Retinars’ Rock, the lower peaks of the Spine that tower over Blythia.  It’s the final hurdle to pass into the ranks of the Retinars, one of our elite cavalry orders where any man can join despite his birth or heritage.  There upon that frozen precipice I carved my name into the rock amongst the hundreds who had surpassed me.

And a more recent affair would be the recent peace that was forged with Avon.  It wasn’t all my success, but I played a significant part, and I don’t think I’d be wrong in saying that it was my words at the end when our treaty was looking to fail that saved it.  I think it was a great achievement nonetheless; we couldn’t march to war without securing our western border.

Continue reading “Rogan (of Forward Banners, Jamie Powell-McCrae)” →
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Phil (of The Rose, by PD Alleva)

Dear readers, tonight we print an overheard conversation between a human protagonist and a millennium-old cephalopod, discussing vampires, aliens, and alien vampires.

Phil, standing on a floor made of water, watched as the atmosphere cracked in front of him. Watched as the crack raced to the right and left. Behind the barrier water tumbled into the space from far away and high above, racing towards the barrier, and rising high overhead, ten feet above him. It was when the water settled to a calm flow that he saw the famed giant cephalopod, Artemis. His tentacles pushing through the water to the barrier between him and Phil. His eyes, large and round and bright white with a black dot for pupils, watched Phil with a stare Phil assumed was both suspicious and intrigued. Phil understood he had to come, but the why behind the reason he was never told. His hands, clenched into fists, shook by his side. He had more dire circumstances to tend to, and this meeting boiled his blood. Having to take part in an interview with Artemis was a waste of time and time was not on his side.

Artemis floated in the water, assessing, scrutinizing, and scanning Phil. When he spoke, his voice was carried across the water and echoed through the chamber where Phil stood, garbled and liquidly was his voice.

Artemis: Did Robyn tell you why I’ve requested your presence?

Phil: Robyn speaks in riddles, so no. (He paused, watching Artemis and how his lips curled into his mouth. Phil cleared his throat). But I assume it’s because of the glimmer and the change in the Akashic record. Robyn is quite disturbed by this change. Do you know who caused it?

Artemis: I have my suspicions. (He pushed forward, closer to the barrier as if the closer proximity would allow him to stare into Phil’s thoughts). Perhaps you already know.

Phil (with a slow shake of his head, his mouth agape): I… I have no idea who changed the record.

Artemis (pushing back, his tentacles flapping in the water): Let us see your mind then. Allow your thoughts to go free. I see you’ve blocked your thoughts from telepathy. Release the barrier. If you are innocent as you as claim than allow me entrance. (His tentacles pointed to Phil’s right). Project your thoughts to the wall. I want to see the past through your eyes. Show us your youth. Where you were born. How you were raised.

Phil (Staring at the ground, gritting his teeth. He turned to the wall, watching as the liquid barrier changed, projecting his thoughts on the watery screen. Saw his birth and the vampires surrounding him and his mother): I was born on an island. Born into slavery.  My mother the same and hundreds of others. Forced to endure, to work in the mines searching for minerals and gold. Forced into bondage, slaves provided for torture. Both Drac and human alike indulged in the desecration of children. Forced to reproduce to maintain their slave numbers. My mother was a beacon of hope during my time there. Unfortunately, she was murdered by the Drac vampires before I was rescued by Robyn.

Artemis: How did he know to rescue you? And after, what did Robyn teach you? What was living like?

Phil: I don’t know how Robyn was able to rescue me. You’d have to ask him. All I know is, I kept my eyes focused on the light, just like my mom had told me. And then he appeared. Took me to the underground where I was raised by him and away from normal society. It wasn’t until I was eight years old that I discovered the human population living above ground. Saw something called a television and on that television were two humans I had seen on numerous occasions on the island. But there on the island they would pat each other on the back, as if they were best friends. But on that television, those same two men were pretending to be enemies. Robyn had said they did so to create confusion and division among the people. A needed commodity for the elite to keep their stranglehold over the population.

(He stepped closer to the wall, watching himself as a child, being trained by Robyn). From what I was told, my education was very different than most other humans. With knowledge and training within science of mind concepts, telepathy, telekinesis, quantum mechanics and alchemy. Including a comprehensive history of our species and our planet, Earth, untold to the humans above ground. I was taught the power of energy, frequency, and vibration. How the universe is a recycling pattern of energy and how the dominant frequency within that vibration slithers into the consciousness of all who live within its vibrational hold. That the balance between the vibrations rages on, and how we, Robyn’s people, were the keepers of that balance. Should the scales tip to far in one favor, the universe can be destroyed faster than the speed of thought. We fight to keep the balance, with the understanding that in order for the universe to evolve peacefully the correct mix of these two polar opposite vibrations are required, with the light capturing the dark in its embrace and not the opposite. Because dark energy has no restraint, it only wishes to consume and that consumption can lead to total annihilation. But perhaps that is what the darkness desires, to destroy the light and remake the universe into darkness.

We lived peacefully and in quiet solitude, except when Robyn called on us for special missions. It was then that he taught me the sacred martial arts of Kobudo Tonfa, fighting with the blades, and the power behind the rose manipulation offering the ability to change chemistry with a thought, move objects with my mind, and suspend gravity. The rose is an all-powerful resource if used and wielded properly.

Continue reading “Phil (of The Rose, by PD Alleva)” →
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Valentin de Broceliande (of The Signet Ring, by Ellis L. Knox)

Dear readers, tonight with us is the leader of a wandering troupe of acrobats, dancers, singers, and performers of small wonders. In a misty forest and a bizarre twist of fate (or the gods), he ran into our own Felix. We faithfully reprint their conversation.

A cold night. Mist settles over the pine forest, obscuring the thin moon. Two men pass through each other.

“Whup,” one said. “I didn’t see you.”

“Nor I you,” the other said. “Not even as you walked through me.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“Hard to miss.”

The first man held out his hand. The other reached out as well. Their hands met but did not touch.

“Even harder not to miss, seemingly.”

“This is strange upon strange,” the first man said. “, but we can be strange without being strangers. My name is Valentin de Broceliande.”

The second man raised an eyebrow. “You’re well-spoken for a barbarian.”

“I’m no barbarian, sir. As you see, I am not jabbering bar-bar-bar.”

“Heh. Fair enough. Valens Tine De Bro….”

“Call me Val.”

“I can manage that. My own name is Spurius Vulpius Felix, from here in Egretia.”

“The Lucky Fox?”

“Er, call me Felix, if you please. I like to think I depend more on skill than luck.” He cocked his head. “Your blond hair and blue eyes say you are from the north. What brings you so far south?”

“Magic, seemingly, for I am not so far south. Only in Suevia.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “But the Suevi dwell north of great mountains.”

Val nodded. “Indeed.”

“This has to be some sort of sorcery,” Felix declared, “though I’m not sure to what purpose.”

“Or it’s the work of the gods, and therefore has no sensible purpose at all.”

Felix chuckled again. “We seem to have a similar temperament, friend. Come, let us sit and see what we can puzzle out from this puzzle.”

“It’s a cold night, but this is worth a talk,” Val agreed. “I’ll sit here on this stump.”

“And I on my bench here. You will not be surprised to hear that to me you too are sitting on a bench.”

“No, on a stump,” Val said. “Just as you are.”

They shared another chuckle.

“Tell me, Val,” Felix said, “what brings you to this place … wherever it is?”

“We travel further north, looking for work.”

“We?”

“The Compagnie des Trouvères, a performing group.”

“Ah. You are an actor?”

“Director. I’m the padron of our little troupe. We do plays, but we are also acrobats, dancers, singers, and performers of small wonders.” He paused. “And yourself?”

“I am,” Felix hesitated a little, “an independent investigator.”

“That’s a curious title.”

“It’s an occupation more than a title. I look into … well … wonders both large and small. For a fee.”

“Oh, I see. I’ve done a little of that myself, though not always intentionally.”

“How so?”

“The Trouvères were indeed south not so long ago. On Capreae we recovered a valuable ring for the Duke of Calabria, for which we were paid.”

Continue reading “Valentin de Broceliande (of The Signet Ring, by Ellis L. Knox)” →
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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)” →
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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)” →
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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)” →
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