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The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

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Magus Draeson (of Kalanon’s Rising, by Darian Smith)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a mage, one of those defending the realm. He’s here to tell us about his life, and about his recent role in solving magical murders.

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

I grew up in Kalanon but not like it is now.  We’re talking four hundred years ago so a lot has changed.  The gold mines at Sandilar hadn’t been found yet.  Obviously Valda was still the capital city and not much of one at that.  People today don’t get how much effort was put into building this country.  They know about the war but ask them about the years before that and they know nothing. 

I know I have a bit of a reputation as a grumpy old man but, well, appearances aside I AM old.  And not always entirely patient when it comes to fools.  There’s a tiredness that comes with that, no matter how much power you have.

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

Toys weren’t really a part of my childhood.  You have to understand what’s necessary for someone to become a mage.  It’s not like wanting to be a baker or a soldier when you grow up.  The dedication required is…relentless. Magic has a price and that price is sacrifice.  I prefer not to dwell on it.  Nobody truly understands anyway.

What do you do now?

I’m the magus of Kalanon.  I’ve done more to defend this country than anyone – both during the war and before it.  These days I’ve been tasked to help Sir Brannon Kesh solve a series of unusual and magical crimes.  I suppose I’m a consultant and a guide for him.  A soldier grunt can’t be expected to know about the true mysteries of the world so he needs my guidance.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

The Djin shamans are a dangerous lot who work with elementals and death magic.  So when a member of the royal family is murdered in what looks like a Djin ritual…well, it’s either them or the Nilarians, in my view and both of those options are bad!

Continue reading “Magus Draeson (of Kalanon’s Rising, by Darian Smith)” →
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Griever Blackhand (of The Girl Drank Poison, by Keith Blenman)

Dear readers, tonight with me is the deadliest bounty hunter in the world — also easily overlooked, as she’s only two feet tall. She’s here to tell us about legendary pirates, spoilt potions, and a sleepy little town.

Welcome Miss Griever Blackhand. How are you?

Hello! Thank you for having us. This chair is quite plush. We’re a little bit hungry. We’d very much like to flop around in a pile of leaves, should you happen to have one. Or perhaps some dirty laundry.

Um… Right. Now, you are a ferrelf. A lot of our readers might not be familiar with your species. If you don’t mind me giving them a physical description, you look like a ferret or weasel. Maybe eighteen inches tall with black and white fur. You’re wearing only a purple cape, which is crooked, draped over your arm. Can you give us any other insights into yourself or your people? Perhaps some history or culture.

…That was a lot of questions.

Oh. My apologies. I’ll slow down. Can you tell us a little about ferrelves?

Yes! As a ferrelf, we are more than able to speak on all matters regarding ferrelves.

…Griever?

Yes!

Would you tell us about ferrelves?

We’re a nomadic people, living in tribes throughout the Northern continent. Like elves, we are immortal. But we don’t always get along with them. You know how elves do things like spend five hundred years shaping a tree into a house, then stare at a roaring fire and recall the ancient times of war when their dwarf friend was slain by an ogre, so they planted a seed on the spot and spent five hundred years using that dwarf as fertilizer to make their house. But then they spent so much time reminiscing about their dwarf friend that they forgot trees are made of wood and their entire house burns down? Well, us ferrelves don’t dedicate so much time to such things. All that sitting would make our minds wander, and we’d start thinking about bright things, and how we like bright things. Then we think about how some of the kindling in the fire isn’t burned and we could probably take it out of the fire pit. But then it’s really hot so we throw it away and it hits the wall.

I’m sorry. Are you telling us you burned down some elf’s wood cabin?

…So the main difference between elves and ferrelves is how we regard time. Elf minds are in ages. Ferrelf minds stay in moments. We’re also a lot more carnivorous. We’ve eaten six birds today. Five of them were still in eggs, but we ate them.

Continue reading “Griever Blackhand (of The Girl Drank Poison, by Keith Blenman)” →
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Harthacnute (of The Cold Hearth; Book 3 of The Atheling Chronicles, by Garth Pettersen)

Dear readers, tonight we interview the half-brother of the protagonist Harald, from a series we visited before. Our guest is the heir to the throne, concerned about the future of his land and the choices of his brothers.

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

I was born in Engla-lond in the early years of my father’s reign, back when Cnute was consolidating his power, playing the sarding earls off each other, and swiving his new wife, Emma, my mother, the widow of Æthelred, the old Saxon king. My father was young then, more Viking chieftain than king. Cruel dastard then, same as now, but shrewd. I’d say my mother is an even match for him—clever, and just as ambitious. Emma got Cnute to promise that their offspring would inherit the throne, not his sons Sweyn and Harald—those stinking curs. So, they had my sister, Cunigard and me. They’re grooming her to marry the next Holy Roman Emperor and I am heir to the throne—a role I am more than willing, and well qualified to play.

So, my childhood was in Engla-lond until Father decides when I am eight years old, to send me to Danmark as future bloody king, under a council led by that nithing, Jarl Ulf. I was just a game piece on Cnutes’ game board, meant to rally the Danes so they’d defend against attacks from Nordvegr and Sverige. Didn’t quite work out that way. Jarl Ulf tried to get the Danish provinces to accept me as king outright, not under Cnute. Stupid Ulf. I think he was half elf-shot. Did nothing to push back the invaders from Scandinavia. My father had to sail from Engla-lond with a fleet. First thing Cnute did after establishing his hold on Nordvegr was kill Jarl Ulf and make it clear to me I was King of Danmark, within his northern empire.

I returned to Engla-lond whenever I was summoned and always chose to stay as long as I could. There are worse things than being young, a blessed gift to women, and heir to the throne. And there is always plenty to drink at my father’s court.

How are your relationships with your half-brothers?

Fine. I hardly see them. Sweyn’s a cruel arseling, but I know what he wants—a throne. I relate well to Sweyn. I understand him. As long as we both don’t claim the same throne, we’ll get along fine.

And Harald?

Harald has more chance of being named a saint than wear a crown. Has no stomach for ruling. And he’s an arrogant turd. He and that slut-wife of his, Selia. Harald says he has no use for the throne. Lying backstabber. We’ve had our run-ins. Beat each other half to death this one time. I was only accepting his wife’s offer to fill her where she’s empty. You know how you can tell some women are ready for you—the way they look at you? Guess it was an act, because she fought like a wild beast. Harald pulled me off her and we fought barehanded. I could have taken him, too, if our father hadn’t stopped us. There will come another time, when I’m ready.

Continue reading “Harthacnute (of The Cold Hearth; Book 3 of The Atheling Chronicles, by Garth Pettersen)” →
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Harry Ferguson (of The Princess Who Forgot She Was Beautiful, by William David Ellis)

Dear readers, tonight with me is an old man, who somehow found himself taken out of his 13th century home to ride dragons across time. He’s here to tell us about princesses and living with a dragon in East Texas.

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

I grew up in Latvia, in the late 13th century. My father was a village elder and we herded pigs. It was a very prosperous vocation. Pigs are much cleaner than most people realize. I worked hard and learned to read at my mother’s knee. My Father taught me how to use a staff. We could not afford a sword. When a large will Pig got loose in the market I caught it and also met the Princess.

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

My family was very loving and was one of the first Christian families in our village. My favorite events were listening to the stories of my ancestors, and learning to read. I did have a treasured possession it was a family ring my father gave me when I turned 16.

What do you do now?

That’s a good question. I am a Dragon Rider. It is my job to police the time streams. I find events and people who are disturbing the time streams and I stop them. Sometimes it is easy. Most of the time it is not. Recently I stopped the Nazi’s from conjuring a fallen angel they intended to use as a means of energizing their elite soldiers. I died and found myself on the backside of that critter as it tried to force its way through the hole my death had caused in the wall that held it back. I literally grabbed it by the tail and hauled it back through the portal.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Well, it started as a story…

…but a mysterious little girl changed everything.

Then a dragon  came to East Texas and they need a hero.

At the time I was an  old man and thought my glory days were over but I was wrong. My life had just started…again.

There was  princess Sarah back in my life again,  and a bossy know it all  sword and the  evil dragon I thought I had killed and a library full of  snaggled-tooth crayon eating munchkins.

Something had risen from my past and it was  coming for the people I loved.

Continue reading “Harry Ferguson (of The Princess Who Forgot She Was Beautiful, by William David Ellis)” →
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Manume, Goddess of the Moon (of Saga of the Outer Islands, by A. F. Stewart)

Dear readers, tonight with me is a goddess, though as her domain is the moon you might find her a tad unhinged. She is here to tell us about her world, and about her struggles with her brother who ferries drowned souls to the afterlife.

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

I grew up on the Isle of Shadows, the place of in-between, home of the gods. The place that shifts and drifts. It’s a corner of the After World sitting in the sea. A paradise full of unhappy gods.

But it had nice places to play and I could always see the moon at night. It smelled like honey and sweet flowers. My brother and I were close then. We had adventures and found treasures on the beach. Seashells and shiny rocks.

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

I had a doll. Pretty doll. Black hair and dark eyes with a dress that sparkled like the stars. Named her Min. Loved her. (sighs) Aryna blew her away on the wind. She was a mean sister. Never liked her. Wanted to see how Min would fly, she said. I cried.

Mother tried to make it better. Gave me a bone to play with instead. I didn’t like it. It smelled. I hit Aryna with it though. Felt better. Making her cry is a good memory.

What do you do now?

Stay on my island until the bad things happen. Stare at the moon, splash in the sea.

Sometimes I talk to bones. Sometimes they talk back. I sing to my children. Hugh sings too, though he doesn’t get too close. He has bad memories of my children. Of when they tried to eat him. We took a boat trip last week, to see the Stone Giants. They like me now. Mother may have told them too, but no matter. The Stone Giants have more to say than the bones.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I took a trip to see Mother, caught a… oh best not say that. Someone told me it’s a spoilery thing. There were pirates sailing about, but I didn’t see them. Gave my brother a map. He might be cross about that, but I didn’t know. Mother did things to the map. (shrugs)

Before that I listened to the bones whisper secrets and did some magic with the Grey Sisters. Oh, and fought that nasty monster who…oh, another spoiler thing. Of course, I never used to be so helpful. I used to be mad at my brother and tried to… oooh, no can’t say that either.

Continue reading “Manume, Goddess of the Moon (of Saga of the Outer Islands, by A. F. Stewart)” →
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Runa (of Sovereign, by Anne Schlea)

Dear readers, tonight with me is a wayward valkyrie with a habit for causing trouble. She’s here to tell us about her relationship with a vampire, and the constant internal struggles between their clans and external dark threats.

Valkyrie News: Introducing the new High Queen of the Valkyrie, Runa. Tell us a little about yourself.

Runa. Seriously, this High Queen stuff is going to get irritating. I died because my idiot brother married a woman who had way more ambition than he did; I was raised from the dead by Freyja; I wandered around causing general trouble and mischief for a while; met this totally hot vampire name Kristoff and found out to keep him I had to do this battle thing with my sisters. Somehow, I accidentally ended up Queen after that.

Tell us about your world

I live in the Retribution Universe, and while I’m the coolest part of the second book, Contrition, Sovereign is really my story. I live in Atlanta, Georgia for the most part with a lot of vampires, a few Sirens, and these nasty guys called nosferatu. It’s not the greatest city, but it has an airport. Paris and New York aren’t that far away.

There are a lot of strong women in your world. Are you friends or frenemies?

Antonia’s okay. She’s pretty soft and not really much fun at all. She’s rather hang out at home watching The Hallmark Channel than go out and do something fun. Stephanie, now that’s someone you can hang out with. She likes to shoot, she does magic, she’s got great sense of style…too bad about that baby thing. But, hey, we’re all immortal. Sooner or later she’s have the Witch-in-Training and we can be back to the good times again.

Continue reading “Runa (of Sovereign, by Anne Schlea)” →
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Mara (of The Chronicles of Agartha, by Sherif Guirguis)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a teenaged girl, originally from 11th century Khorasan but now roaming a strange land where all the myths of our planet found a home. She and her friends must follow a prophecy that is guaranteed to change the face of the land — one way or another.

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

Who’s asking? I don’t take lightly to questions about my origins, you might be a purple mage for all that I know.

But if Ethan says that you are to be trusted, I will answer all your questions.

I am from Khorasan, the city that spreads culture and art to the whole world. My father is a master trader and a world traveler, everybody who is anybody in the twelfth century have heard of him, Amar El-Khorasani, but you should know that he is very famous.

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

I think that Ethan really has faith in you, you can’t give this information to anybody, I will be immediately banished from Agartha.

As a child, my father brought for each of us, his children, a toy of the finest porcelain when he traveled to China, mine was a very nice doll, she had a silk dress and held a small umbrella. I used to take her with me all over the place, but then my mother took her away to concentrate on the house duties, I am a very good cook because of her.

As for memories, I think it was the day my father brought the astrologer to the house, and he started to explain to me and my ten siblings the stars in the heavens and how to use them to guide our ways in the night; I think this the most cherished memory of my childhood, this is when I decided that I wanted to travel, like my father.

What do you do now?

What kind of question is that? I thought that Ethan must have told you. We are traveling the land of Agartha in search of the chronicler, he will give us our next destination, I hope.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Let’s see, I have mysteriously ended up in this strange and magical land, Agartha, although I don’t have any memory of how I came to be here.

I met this very nice young man, Ethan, you know him. I also met Darren, he is not as nice, but he is good, in his own savage way.

There is also this crazy army leader, the green lady, who is chasing us for some time, but we are two steps ahead of her.

It has been a very thrilling experience thus far.

Continue reading “Mara (of The Chronicles of Agartha, by Sherif Guirguis)” →
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David Grey (of the Battle Avatars series, by Ed White)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a man on his deathbed. His only hope for a cure is to quit his job and enter a fantasy computer game full-time, where he must battle murderous invaders threatening to devastate the lands.

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

I grew up in Connecticut, with my older sister, mom, and dad. Winters are cold and summers are mild, full of games and adventures I played with my best bud Jonesy and our neighborhood friends. Our neighborhood wasn’t in Connecticut, it was anywhere we wanted it to be—alien worlds, vast jungles, lost civilizations, and home base. My house tended to be where everyone gathered and I was inside that we played our video games, thanks to a sweet setup built by my dad. From the ancient portal of my living room, we entered even more far away worlds, whether they were in a galaxy far, far away, or in a virtual world—which became all the rage as we left for college.

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

Action figures were on the way out when I was born, so Jonesy and I pretty much played video games, watched movies and anime every chance we got.

Our favorite game to play was the Rebel Lion: we started when we entered college and played the entire time. Sadly, life gets in the way and we don’t see each other much anymore.

My sister and I are very close. My dad—an IT guy—would find us hacks online to use in our video games. He didn’t play very much, but said his friends played tabletop games when they were young. My mom is a retired reporter, she would travel for stories, but I don’t remember her being away that often—maybe because I was playing games so much and with dad’s tech, she was always in contact with us.

Some of the best memories are playing Rebel Lion in VR—that just seems timeless, not the because of the virtual reality, and even if they say time flies when you’re having fun. My childhood seemed to have been forever, but that was eighteen years—we were only in college four years and it felt longer, much longer. Those were good times.

What do you do now?

Ugh.

What I did until a few days ago, was work as a salesman for United Foods. The company was bought by a larger corporation and I saw that as my opportunity to get the hell out of there, taking a job with the Conglomerate for Gaea’s Greater Good. They run the Lenscape Online Game and took me on a probational role as a game moderator, within the Lenscape, looking for hackers. I didn’t trust them at first, still not sure about them, but I’m sick and they’ve promised a cure by cultivating (channeling life force) to purify my body from within Lenscape.

What can you tell us about hunting hackers?

These “hackers”, they’re not hackers. Something else is going on. How does cultivating inside a game like a Kungfu master heal my body in the real world? I’m not sure how I’m supposed to find the hacker or hackers, but I’m enjoying the ride—battling random monsters and a whole mess of ice-age creatures. That’s right up my alley: exploring the ancient Earth during the twilight years of Atlantis. Megaliths and standing stones, ley energy and mythic creatures are a passion of mine—I’ve got tons of books on it, brought home by my mom from her trips.

Continue reading “David Grey (of the Battle Avatars series, by Ed White)” →
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Hemlock Connal and Morgan Burns (of Another Dead Intern, by Joel Spriggs)

Dear readers, tonight with me is a preternatural investigator (a private investigator specialising in the supernatural), and her latest intern.

Hemlock: Hi, I’m Hemlock Connal, Preternatural Investigator.

Morgan: I’m Morgan Burns, Professional Intern.

Hemlock: We first work together in Another Dead Intern, hopefully no spoilers, but also working together in a short Holiday ditty called Little Drummer Boy.

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

Hemlock: My mother is Queen Fand, of the Sidhe Shadow Court. So I grew up in the castle, training with the court. That is up until I was thirteen, when I played a trick on an Earl of the Summer Court at a party. I put an enchantment on him to make him fall in love with a pine tree. It was funny at first, until he started cramming pine cones up his rectum. They said he got six, but I counted seven!

Anyway, rather than have me executed, the Queen had mercy and I was banished for 13 years, stripped of most powers, and lost my beautiful voice. They basically made sure I was cursed to sound like I’d been gargling acid and broken glass for a lifetime. After that, I lived with dad. Old Man Connal was the private investigator, but he was an independent practitioner of the magical arts, so he dealt with investigations in the magical community. When he died a year or so ago, I took over the family business.

Morgan:  I grew up in an Indiana town, had a good lookin’ mama who never was around. I but I grew up tall, and I grew up right, with them Indiana Girls on them Indiana Nights

Hemlock: Damnit Burns, that’s the lyrics to Mary Jane’s Last Dance by Tom Petty.

Morgan: … it’s mostly accurate.

Hemlock: Fair enough.

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

Hemlock: I had a Curious George doll. Got it from my dad one time when I visited him before I got banished. I kept it with me after, which seemed dumb, but it was a comfort thing. Unfortunately, I had it with me when dad dragged me along on a job. A monastery was having an issue with a yokai that followed some new monks over from Japan. One thing led to another, and he had to trap the spirit in the Curious George doll. I still have it, but now it has a vengeful spirit bound to it. He does help with tasting blood for quick analysis when I need random facts about something.

Morgan: My dad didn’t believe in furthering the capitalist ideals of major toy corporations. So, I had to make the toys I had in his woodshop. I wasn’t really good at making action figures or most things like that, but I did have a knack for furniture. Honestly, the thing I loved most was this one old fashioned wood plane he had in the shop. That thing could take a see through layer of wood off the surface, oh so smooth.

Hemlock: Burns?

Morgan: Yeah?

Hemlock: You are a complete and utter dork.

What do you do now?

Hemlock: We are Preternatural Investigators. Well, I am, Burns is just an intern.

Morgan: C’mon, I’m a bit better than that.

Hemlock: That doesn’t mean we go around killing vampires for people or looking for ghosts in resold haunted houses. It just means we do private investigations for the preternatural community. Which means doing a lot of the same stuff a PI would do, a lot of cheating spouse cases, insurance fraud, white collar crime discovery, that sort of stuff. Just, with, y’know, vampires, witches, warlocks, mages, werewolves, sometimes the Sidhe, and other various species and members of the preternatural community of Boston.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Hemlock: There were stolen memories that led us to the murders, the murders led us to the drugs, and more drugs led us to the nightmares.

Morgan: Ah, don’t forget, it was me taking more drugs that led us to the nightmares.

Hemlock: Semantics, don’t try to be a glory hog, Burns.

Continue reading “Hemlock Connal and Morgan Burns (of Another Dead Intern, by Joel Spriggs)” →
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