Search

The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

Tag

Fantasy

Silmavalien and Noren (of Return of the Dragonriders trilogy, by Raina Nightingale)

Dear readers, tonight with us are two dragon riders from a world where dragons are considered demons and Dragonriders are hunted and killed as witches.


I’ve heard the two of you are from one of the mountain villages. Can you tell us what it was like to grow up there? How are the people different in the mountains?

Noren opens his mouth, but then Silmavalien leans forward, and he gestures for her to start.

“I don’t know a lot about how the people are different,” she explains. “I really haven’t met a lot of people down here. But I can tell you a bit about how I grew up.”

She reaches out and takes Noren’s hand, and he smiles. She goes on. “The mountains are beautiful! I love them so much better than the plains! The trees, and the heights rising above you, and the valleys!

“As for growing up … My life was a lot like everyone else’s in Treas. My father was a good hunter, and when he taught my older brother, I often watched when I could. Noren was learning the same skills from his father, and he noticed and started going out of his way to help me and teach me how to do all the things he was learning. We spent a lot of time talking, and he told him all about everything. His frustrations, and his triumphs, and his first deer.” She smiles. “Everyone knew what was going on, of course, but most people didn’t take much notice. I’m not the only woman to hunt, but there aren’t that many of us. So people mostly ignored it.”

Noren grips her hand a little tighter. Perhaps he can tell she really has no idea where the plains-city people are coming from, and is just going on about her life. She turns to look at him.

“Sil, love,” he says, “I think this kind young man has no idea what you are talking about.”

She laughs a little nervously. “You go on, then, since you know more than I do.”

She leans into Noren, as he takes up the thread. “You asked how people are different in the mountains,” he begins. “In case you were wondering, dragons are just as maligned there as here in the plains and the cities. The bards often came through with their stories about them, the same ones you know I’m sure, and we didn’t have any stories of good dragons, either.

“Apart from that, I’m not sure where to begin either. I can only tell you that when I came down here, it was very confusing, and it took a while for me to stop doing things that made other people uncomfortable or suspicious that I had bad intentions. It was a very different environment in Treas, where everyone knows everyone else at least a little, than it is in the cities, where you’re living so close to so many people you don’t know at all, or even the towns down here, where travelers come through all the time. There, the only travelers we knew were bards, apart from every now and then, when we would host another village or two for a big festival.

“So there’s a kind of trust between us you don’t have in the cities. It’s not perfect, Silmavalien didn’t get to telling you, but her brother married a woman who was … well, the sort of person who’d lead the ‘Dragonriders are witches, burn them!’ mentality, and she was a nuisance to be around. But people’s relationships are clearer and we’re not worried about each other doing things that I don’t know how to mention.

“At first I really didn’t appreciate the different environment down here, and even now after spending a number of years working as low-priority courier, I still don’t. I just know better what to avoid, and being a courier helped. There were ways it narrowed and defined my interactions and made that easier. So I hope that’s … kind of what you were asking.”

Yes, it is. It was good to hear what both of you shared, and I think this is a question you might like, Silmavalien. What did you enjoy about your life growing up?

Silmavalien looks up and smiles. “Apart from Noren? We’ve always done so much together, since I was old enough to run and talk. Umm … probably what I miss most is the festival nights, especially the singing.”

Her voice takes on a cautious, wistful edge. “Now you mention it, I used to look forward to the bards. I loved the stories. But now … now that I know they’re all horrible lies, it’s hard to remember that well.”

She pauses, and the smile comes back. “But festival nights! I liked listening to the songs, and I liked to sing, sometimes together with other people, but I used to sing for everyone, sometimes our old songs that we keep, that I’d learned from hearing others sing, but I’d often sing alone, maybe a new song or one I made, or one of the old songs that’s for just one woman to sing. I loved all of it, and now, well, I wouldn’t give anything for the dragons, and Songeth often sings with me or for me, and I sing for them, too. So it might be even better, but it isn’t the same.”

Continue reading “Silmavalien and Noren (of Return of the Dragonriders trilogy, by Raina Nightingale)”

Joss, aka Daxx (of New Rock New Role, by Richard Sparks)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an author and gamer who woke up as his alter-ego in his own fantasy books.


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

A small house on the edge of a village outside Cheltenham in the west of England. Beyond the garden fence were woods and hills that we could run wild in, barefoot in the summer, padded up against the cold in winter.  Up the lane towards the top of the hill was a dark, muddy pond we called The Giant’s Bath.  And beyond that, through the trees, lay the open sky and the far horizon.

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

A medieval fort I played with for hours. A small railway set. Little animals and characters I staged elaborate stories around. Books that I lost myself in. Tales of gods and heroes, sagas, eddas, adventures in this world and a hundred others, from the Odyssey of Homer to Narnia and back again, via the Ramayana, Middle Earth and Outer Space.

What do you do now?

I was, until this all happened, a widowed, retired schoolteacher living quietly by myself in my little bungalow not five miles from where I was born.  There, I spent my time online, in my favourite MMORPG, running my avatar, an apex-level battlemage/healer, Daxx.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

It all began when we won the World Championship of Sword and Sorcery, with tens of millions watching live online.  The others in my crew are Grell, the Orc avatar of an Australian guy, and Qrysta, the dual-wielding, sword-dancing avatar of an Asian American girl.  We only went and won the title.  World Champions!

After which, everything went very weird indeed.  I found myself all alone, in the middle of an untouched wilderness, armed with only a crappy, noob-level sword and shield.  And I was no longer Joss, but my own avatar, Daxx.  For real.  There was no sign of Qrysta or Grell.  And I could hear wolves heading my way.  If I was going to find out what had happened, and why, first I needed to survive.

Bad enough, you might think.  It very soon got worse.  Captured by two wiry little Woods Kin archers, I was marched off to be sold at auction as an outlaw.  And soon found myself drafted into a local lord’s army, being trained up by the fearsome Serjeant-at-Arms Jack Blunt—known to one and all as Serjeant Bastard.

It was some time before our quest revealed itself—a quest that meant going on the run with a noble maiden searching for her mysterious godmother, and learning of a foe far more dangerous, and powerful, than any I had faced before.

Continue reading “Joss, aka Daxx (of New Rock New Role, by Richard Sparks)”

Ayela and Kamille (of The Kult of Salom’Sileyum, by Zachael T J Presgrove)

Dear readers, tonight we bring you the transcript of a live interview with two characters from a fantasy world not our own. They are here to talk about an attack from an ancient god, a government determined to cover it up, and a heartbroken elfan maiden certain to find answers, as they embark on a journey of mystery, terror, strange magic, and cosmic powers.


Host: Good afternoon Kamille and Ayela- or should we call you Tsana [Teh-Shaun-uh]?

Ayela: No, please; Ayela is fine. It’s the name I’ve always answered to and known.

Host: Very well, then, Ayela- I have to say, you have a lovely accent! Where did you say you came from again?

Ayela: Well, I was born in a country called Songriveii on my world, but when I was just a baby, I was kidnapped and taken to an orphanage. I don’t really know who did it or why, but that’s how I ended up in the northern part of the Empire of Enthedrill. My accent comes from there.

Host: Gotcha! On earth, we have a country called France. Your accent seounds very similar to that- anyways, I’m getting off track. Welcome to Protagonist Speaks, where we sit down with the very people at the center of stories all across the vast universes of- well, of reality! We prepare a list of questions so our audiences can get to know you better!

Ayela: It’s a pleasure to be here- also, how did you manage to get that portal open to get us here-

Host: That’s not important- anyways, I’m joined here with Ayela Rhexa, a beautiful crimson-haired elvish woman from the world of Thaerv, and her best friend, Kamille Lameen, another gorgeous Korokian elf from the same world! They’ve been through so much as members of the secretive hacktivist group called ‘The Darklings’-

Kamille: Let’s not start announcing-

Host: daring to battle the third-rail capitalist regime that set their world ablaze in war; the Empire of Enthedrill. And even more: they’re doing so without spilling a drop of elvish blood-

Ayela: there’s no need to share our methods-

Host: Let’s give them a warm round of applause!

Crowd: [Applause]

Host: Now, before we begin, I know there are concerns about the things you answer being aired on television in your world. I want to reassure you that we do not have connections to any of the worlds we retrieve guests from. The only television networks we broadcast on are the ones here in our own universe on earth. You can rest assured your confidentiality will be utterly honored.

Kamille: I have so many bloody questions.

Host: And so do we! Kamille, I hear an accent in your voice as well, though a bit more British. Are you not from the same area where Ayela gew up?

Kamille: No, actually. I was born in eastern Enthedrill, in a city called D’Vnora [Div-Nor-Uh]. My family and I lived in the lower half of the hold, called the undercity. It’s rife with poverty and racism, and for elves of color like myself, law enforcement painted targets on our backs. Most of my family was slaughtered in a raid by the police.

Host: That’s… That’s horrible! I can’t imagine going through something like that! Is that why you joined the Darklings?

Kamille: We don’t join, per say. We’re recruited, and from there we can accept or decline. Our leader, a figure dubbed Ruat, has a way of getting a hold of us and letting us know that we’re in, and then we’re told who to talk to from there. The only one who came to us differently was Ayela, here.

Ayela: Yes, I was given a message that told me I was the last, and I went straight to Kamille without any prompting to do so.

Host: Fascinating. We’ll get back to all of that, but before we do, I want to touch a bit more on your upbringings. Ayela, let’s start with you. I know you explained you were orphaned, but let’s get a bit more into the details. From our intial interview, you explained that no one adopted you. You had to learn and study on your own, and when you were sixteen, after you graduated from primary, you applied for citizenship into Enthedrill, using the orphanage’s owner’s surname as your own?

Ayela: Yes. I watched most of the kids I grew up with get picked by families, but they were all ‘ivory elves,’ so they had a much easier time than I did.

Host: Ivory elves?

Ayela: Elves that look like you. Pale skin, gold or brown hair, blue or green eyes. I’m a Songrivan elf. Our country’s royal family is rumored to be a pure bloodline, meaning they’re inbred, so anyone with red hair, freckles, and purple eyes like mine are overlooked. They call us ‘blood elves’ as an insult.

Host: But your race isn’t the only reason you were overlooked, is it?

Ayela: …No, it’s not. I’m also something called a divine logician. I was born with telekinetic, telepathic, and reality warping abilities, and growing up, I struggled to control them when I had emotional outbursts. The Orphanage’s owner was the only one who looked after me, and he put me in dance classes at a young age.

Host: And when you got your citizenship, you had already learned three cultural arts of dancing?

Ayela: Correct. I also took on martial arts classes from a few different cultures, and advanced pretty far in those styles. All of this, of course, was to hone and control my powers.

Continue reading “Ayela and Kamille (of The Kult of Salom’Sileyum, by Zachael T J Presgrove)”

Liam Baxter (of The Devil’s Finger, by Sandra Bond)

Dear readers, tonight we bring you an alternative view point — that of the antagonist. He brings us a unique perspective on the world of stand-up comedy, and that of shapeshifting cryptids and catastrophes, and carpet warehouses that make for a witty supernatural thriller.


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

Born and brought up in the Thames Valley in southern England. I shan’t name the town, or I might turn this whole interview into a screed of hate for growing up in a small town when the big city is right on the horizon and you yearn for it but you’re too young.

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

I had a ton of toys. In fairness, my folks were pretty decent; my dad had a good job at Heathrow Airport, my mum didn’t have to work, no brothers or sisters so I got all the attention. I’ve always liked attention. Whether that’s because my parents gave me so much, or whether my parents gave me so much because I craved it, I honestly don’t know. Anyway, I got into acting as a teen, and won a scholarship to drama school, which with my folks’ money was just enough to let me attend. Sadly, I soon found out that most actors and most people in entertainment are massive jerks, and often bent to boot.

Bent?

In every sense of the word. Don’t play the innocent! You know what I mean, mate.

I suppose I do. What do you do now?

You know that too, but I guess I’d better go into detail. I run TheStagedoorJohnny.com – the nonpareil website for British show biz gossip. When I finished drama school I knew I could never be a performer myself, but I’d made a good many contacts and I figured I could use them. And that’s what I’ve been doing all my adult life. Along with ancillary stuff like articles for the red-top tabloids, the odd hasty show biz biography, that kind of thing.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I always have plenty of irons in the fire, but I guess you want to know what I’m prying into right now. Well, you know Jemima Charfield? The fat comedian, who was married to Chaz Singleton out of the Omega Mice? Yeah, her. She bust up with her manager pretty spectacularly not long ago. In public; Jemima’s as bad as Chaz for making public scenes. Her manager, Eddie, isn’t the kind to forgive, or give mercy fucks, but all of a sudden they’re best buddies again, and something stinks to high heaven. I want to know what’s going on, there. I’m convinced there’s a story for my site to be unearthed; a big story.

Continue reading “Liam Baxter (of The Devil’s Finger, by Sandra Bond)”

The cast of characters (of A Gryphon’s Tale, a web-serial by Jess Mahler)

header for a gryphon's tale. A mountain lion-harris hawk gryphon walking infront of mountains. Text: A Gryphon's Tale

Dear readers, tonight with us are Cesario, Lefeng (known to the others as the Trial-Parent), Marcus, and The Great Goddess out of Jess Mahler’s queer web-serial A Gryphon’s Tale. They are here for a party, crossing the various stories they appear in.


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

Cesario: The city of Messaline. I grew up with my father and brother. I think it was in Italy?

Parent of the Trial-Family: City-folks. How do you manage with never knowing where you are?

Cesario: Says the nomad.

Marcus: Gotta go with Trial-Parent on this. I know Shakespeare was light on detail, but if you don’t even know what country you grew up in, that’s not the best.

Cesario: And you know so much about your background?

Marcus: I sprung up full-grown, like Athena out of Zeus’ head.

Trial-Parent: (snorts) 

Marcus: But I was born in the US. A small-town kid with a love of comic books and a willingness to use my fists.

The Great Goddess: Some of us never were ‘kids.’

So you are all from different stories?

Trial-Parent: Yes. We’re part of a serial thing called A Gryphon’s Tale. It’s four to six serialized stories a year. Some stories are shorter and are told over a few months. Others are longer and broken into seasons.

Cesario: Wasn’t your story the first? And still going?

Trial-Parent: We were going to be a novel, but the author needed to try something different. It’s worked out pretty well.

Marcus: Not for all of us.

All: Epsilon.

The Great Goddess: It is a risk the author takes – posting stories as they are written. Some will never be finished.

Cesario: Epsilon was finished. Just… abruptly and not as intended. 

Epsilon? Trial-Parent? I’m confused

Trial-Parent: The culture of my story is such that names are private. One is known by nicknames by friends and distant family, and others use family names. My spice-to-be call me guarding-one and once-walker. I had been Near-Adult of LongStride, but LongStride is no more, destroyed in the great wave. My new family is not accepted by the city, so we are ‘Trial-Parent’ until we gain a true name.

The Great Goddess: A wise people, who know the power of names.

Marcus: Eh, I’m good with the power I get from a gun and a good team at my back.

Cesario: Epsilon is the shortened title for another story, Mighty Hero Force Epsilon. It didn’t work as the author expected, and they ended it early. A happy ending, but abrupt. I am grateful my own story was written in full before the author began working on it.

And who is the gryphon?

Trial-Parent: The author.

Cesario: It’s a bit of a conceit they enjoy. The image of a traditional storyteller with listeners gathered around enjoying the tales. Except the storyteller is a gryphon. They have long subscribed to the idea that monsters in stories represent those pushed to the edges of society. Different, rejected, disenfranchised. Frightening for those who hold power.

Marcus: Yup, and they lean into it. If society labels them a monster, they will be a monster – and tell stories reminding folks that the real monsters aren’t the ones driven into the shadows.

Continue reading “The cast of characters (of A Gryphon’s Tale, a web-serial by Jess Mahler)”

The Huay Chivo (of The Blood Moon Feeds on My Dreams, by Douglas Lumsden)

With me in the studio today is the creature known as the Huay Chivo, who has through sorcerous means traveled here from the Realm of Tolanica in a nearby parallel world.


Welcome, Mr. Chivo.

Thank you. And, please, call me Chivo.

Certainly, Chivo. My first question to you is a little delicate. At the risk of being rude…

You wish to discuss my appearance, right?

Well, if you don’t mind…

It’s not a problem. As you can see, I resemble a goat with ram’s horns, a row of spikes down my back, glowing red eyes, human-like hands and feet, and a long, bare rat-like tail.

And some rather impressive pointed teeth!

Yes, quite handy when you’re a carnivore. And, to anticipate your next question, no, I wasn’t born in this form. Underneath all this, I am as human as you are, though with considerably more skill manipulating supernatural energies.

You mean magic?

That’s as good a word as any, I suppose. Many centuries ago, I was the most powerful sorcerer in the region of Cutzyetelkeh, roughly the equivalent of the Yucatan Peninsula in your world. Back then I was known as Lord Cadmael, and I ruled a large and sophisticated kingdom. Then the Dragon Lords emerged from a parallel world called Hell and conquered the entire planet. I successfully resisted two of the dragons—Ketz-Alkwat and Manqu—for decades, but eventually I was overcome. Or so they tell me. My memories of the end of my kingdom and the years that came after are vague. I’m dimly aware of wandering for centuries in my current form, mindlessly hunting and surviving. That’s when they began calling me the Huay Chivo: the Goat Sorcerer.

I was warned that I should avoid the lethal gaze of your glowing eyes.

[chuckling] That’s a bit dramatic. When I’m hunting, I bring down my prey by meeting their eyes with my own. My ‘lethal gaze,’ as you put it, causes extreme nausea, and when my prey is helpless—I strike! I developed this spell when I still maintained a human form. It was an entertaining way to intimidate anyone foolish enough to oppose my leadership.

I see…. Chivo, you say you wandered mindlessly for centuries. That obviously changed. What happened?

I’d reached a very low point in my life. I wandered into an urban metropolis called Yerba City on the tip of a peninsula. Geographically, it’s the equivalent of a place in your world called San Francisco, and there are some similarities. Unfortunately, the urban environment was not suitable for me in my bestial state. Also, I came to the attention of certain agencies of the government that wanted to capture me for the Dragon Lord. I wandered through alleys, eating whatever game I could find: dogs, cats, racoons, amikuks…

Amikuks?

Nasty little critters that swim through the earth. Maybe you have a different name for them. Anyway, I was searching for a meal early one morning when I ran into a strong-willed gentleman named Southerland who was able to resist my nausea spell. I was impressed, and I decided to move into his abode, in part to keep myself from the prying eyes of the Dragon Lord’s agencies. Southerland has a small room he uses sparingly to mechanically launder his linens. I found it an adequate place to pass the days in sleep before my nightly activities, especially after I was able to convince my new host to provide me with regular meals. In return, I keep his living space secure against enemies and thieves. It was, and remains, a suitable arrangement.

Continue reading “The Huay Chivo (of The Blood Moon Feeds on My Dreams, by Douglas Lumsden)”

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)”

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)”

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.

Continue reading “Camilla (of Heart of Fire, by Raina Nightingale)”

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑