Full Circle.

Bethany and her new witches take time to celebrate their first year of magic.

Bethany looked over the ocean and sighed. Hard to believe a year had passed since she first used her gift. The changes in the world were already becoming evident as crime rates dropped, politicians spoke the truth and large corporations discovered they could not manipulate determined covens of newly empowered witches and warlocks. Magic had returned to the world, in force.

Although in her local area there wasn't so much political upheaval, the local hospital and halfway houses had found the support of the local witches, invaluable. With the police now seeking magic to help solve crimes and quell trouble  makers, who knew they could face the friendly warlocks and witches in times of excitement, trouble in the district had become a rarity.

The weather for the Coffs Coven's first annual picnic was perfect. Of course.
Sunshine, blue skies and a cool breeze, courtesy of a little magic. Mark's laughter and presence added to her enjoyment. Today was a good day. Perfect day to celebrate...

Bethany stirred, the gathering's guest speaker cleared her throat and on a cue from Amber, began to speak. Forty-five newly gifted sorcerers gathered closer to hear her words. Stephanie Hillstock, wife of Daniel Hillstock, the recently deceased founder and former CEO of C.O.O.N., Clean Our Oceans Now, raised one hand. She spoke clearly, though unshed tears welled in her eyes. Stephanie, the eco-biologist and nanotech designer explained the latest breakthrough. The creation of nanites designed to break down plastic into inert, harmless molecules. The application of these new machines could clean up the islands of plastic and the soup of toxic nodules floating in the ocean's deadspots. Bethany found herself rejoicing, a flutter of excitement grew in her soul.

How could magic help? This was straight science. She listened, rapt in the idea tiny machines, guided by miniscule GPS 'pearls' could rectify the vast problem of plastic waste.

The guest speaker paused. She glanced around her audience, making eye contact. "All we need is a means of funding our research to enable a large scale manufacture and deployment of these nanites."

"How do you know they won't keep breaking down plastic that is still in use?" Amber asked.

Stephanie took a breath and began to explain. Bethany listened with interest as Stephanie explained how the GPS would limit the extent of the nanite's viability. If they floated outside the pearl's range they would become dormant. If they reentered the zone they would again become active. Simple.

As Stephanie answered several other questions, setting to rest all Bethany's queries and problems she hadn't foreseen, Bethany knew she had to help. Magic wasn't exactly what Stephanie was asking for, but funding? Bethany caught her breath. Funding? Money? Her heart raced. She knew of a charity, her favourite charity, that had come into a great deal of money recently. She knew, because a year ago she had given them a winning lotto cheque. Millions of dollars...

An email explaining Stephanie's project and need for funding, with perhaps a little spell to persuade the board of directors, and C.O.O.N. should have all the funding they could possibly need.

Bethany didn't want to wait. The charity she chose so many months ago, was perfect for Stephanie's need.  Their mission was to find and fund ways to improve life on the planet. Surely funding research and deployment of the nanites would be well within the criteria for donations.

She wanted to jump up and share her ideas, but for now she sat and  composed an email, hit send on her smart phone, breathed the warm summer air and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Tomorrow she would follow up her request with a visit. Just in case a little magic was needed.

It seemed like the coming of magic finally would make a difference to the world. Not just to the humans but to the whole planet. This was just the beginning. Bethany had discovered the limitations of magic. Curing the world's ills was more than a single coven could achieve, but a simple gift could help find an answer to Stephanie's need.

She closed her eyes, thinking how her life had changed since a stranger gave her an even stranger cube. Her choice to believe in magic changed her life and now it would change the planet. For the better.

"Bethany," Mark's voice intruded on Bethany's introspection. "Here, I brought you a gift. It isn't much, but hey, I just couldn't resist. Happy Christmas."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Bethany could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Even knowing his preference, Bethany found Mark attractive and over the year they became close friends. He probably didn't know how his innocent kiss could heat her blood.  Trying to put aside her discomfort, she grinned and opened the gift. Laughter bubbled and burst free as she revealed a Rubix cube. "Perfect." She managed to speak.

"Seemed appropriate." Mark settled beside her.

"Yes, it is." Bethany nodded. Today was the perfect way to celebrate the coming of magic.

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

Follow:  Blog,

 Website

Chronicles of Caleath Facebook 

A Gathering Of Fantasy Readers and Writers Facebook group

Back to School

Facing a new challenge three newby witches return to school.

Bethany scowled, pacing the school corridor. The smell of male teenage sweat, old socks, stale deodorant, ancient bananas, old socks and ink filtered through the overpowering layers of alien musk and singed hair. Bethany counted the years since she trudged similar corridors and halls, sweated through classes and suffered the angst of young love.

Stella, her guide and close friend, sat in a huddle. Knees clutched against her chest, chalk smudged on her clothes, her skin and through her hair. Her eyes were closed, her fingers crushing a small wedge of chalk. At her feet an ornate pattern of runes and flourishing scroll work stretched across the worn linoleum.

Leaning against the row of lockers Mark, the group’s protector, swung a baseball bat, as though practising for sword play.

Bethany could see the riffle of air as the wood moved. The organic energy flowed, where Mark poured his spells. Still new to the whole scope of magic, Stella and Mark completed her ‘team’.

Three familiars waited outside. Bethany watched the sea eagle rise on thermals. She tore her focus away from the bird, her familiar. A doberman bitch sat erect, watching the wall where Stella sat, as though able to see the witch through the brickwork. Mark's familiar, a huge carpet snake wasn't visible, but Bethany knew the cold blooded reptile would be close by, waiting for Mark's return, or contact.

Three new sorcerers. Each still finding their way through a learning maze of magic. 

They now faced a challenge well beyond their limited knowledge of dimensions and other worlds.

“It’s not Dave’s fault.” Mark balanced the baseball bat, come wizard’s staff, between his hands. His brow scrunched tight, marring his stunning looks. His wrist twisted slightly, refracting light caught on a woven metal band clasped around his arm. Bethany tore her eyes away from the muscles flexing in Mark’s forearm and biceps.

She needed to concentrate. Not on his scent, nor his piercing eyes, but on the danger lurking beyond the closed doors of the science lab.

“Doesn’t matter whose fault it is.” She said, trying to keep her voice controlled. Being the first to receive her gift, the newly formed sorcerers looked to her for leadership. Mark and Stella, as her team, shared the responsibility. Dave’s mistake needed to be fixed, before the problem hurt more people.

“He just wanted to open his grandmother’s window. You know he cares for her. The window was jammed, so he tried to use his magic.”

“And he opened a portal to another world… and allowed a creature access to this one.” Stella muttered. She raked chalk powdered fingers through her hair. Bethany didn’t comment. If they survived, Stella’s disarray would be overlooked.

“Dave’s on his way to hospital. Grace, (his guide), is with him. When he regains consciousness, she will try to find out exactly what spell he used, so we can un do it.” Mark spoke with confidence that seemed far removed from their present situation. Bethany admired his stoic acceptance of his role as protector, leader and support person. She struggled to control the panic forcing blood through her veins and sucking air into her lungs. Mark’s logic and presence kept her focussed, proving the success of her choice in bestowing magic on him.

A rumble and a roar set the air in the corridor vibrating.

Stella grabbed the bracelet circling her wrist. “The other teams have managed to set confining spells around the school’s perimeter.” Stella said, looking up. “While they are working as a group the creature should be trapped within the school grounds. They will try to close in, keep it in this building… if possible.”

“It’s moving…” Mark warned, turning toward the science lab doors, looming like a threat at the far end of the corridor. “Bethany…”

“I know…” She swallowed. “I am ready. Even if I don’t look like I am.” She lifted the rapier she had chosen as her weapon. Borrowed, on a permanent loan from her brother, the blade now carried her most potent spells. Spells of defence, accuracy, damage and stamina all wrapped like spider web around the steel. 

Still it didn’t feel like enough. She didn’t want to be close enough to the creature beyond the doors, to need the blade.

“Stella, as soon as Grace knows what spell Dave used, let us know.” Bethany shook her head. “No, when you work out what we need to send the creature back where it came from… then let us know. We will need everyone to join us when we work our magic. Newbies as we are.”

A screech, the sound of breaking glass and the yowl of a frightened animal reached them.

Mark shrugged. “Come on Beth, our friend is getting restless. We need to keep it contained, while we can.”

Beth nodded. “Stella, tell Grace not to waste time. Please.”

Mark rolled his shoulders, cricked his neck and flashed a grin toward Bethany. “Come on. First time in combat isn’t fun, but you’ll do okay. I’ll take point. You keep casting spells.”

Bethany clutched the sword in her hand. She prayed it was stronger than the ornamental replicas she had seen on ebay.

Time would tell.

Together they approached the closed doors. Through the small glass inserts Bethany saw movement. She wanted to turn and run, sprint toward the clear night, race across the field and leap the school yard fence. Instead she took another step. Beside her an emergency fire extinguisher, axe and fire blanket leered at her through a glass panel.

BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.

Glancing toward Mark, she smashed the pommel of her sword through the glass and grabbed the axe. Mark snatched up the fire extinguisher. Bethany tore open the blanket. If the creature could burn Dave, the blanket might be useful.

“Nigel did turn off the gas and electricity to the lab, didn’t he?” She waited for Mark to nod before she took her next step. The crunch of glass under her feet made her feel reckless, brave, ready for the conflict. Her adrenaline rushed and she grinned again. Even if the whole bravado was an illusion, it felt better than the dreadful fear consuming her moments before. The feeling seemed magical.

Of course, the gestalt of new sorcerers were combining their strength and covering her fear with their courage. Good for them. Only they didn’t have to come face to face with the creature.

A crash brought her out of her musing.

The doors splintered and disintegrated in an explosion of enraged creature.

Mark lunged forward. Bethany lifted her sword in one hand, the axe in the other.

She stood her ground as Mark flung himself past the creature’s bulk.

More like a crocodile than a dragon. 

Marked leapt over protruding legs and slammed his weapon hard onto the reptilian tail.

As the beast swung to retaliate, Bethany lurched forward. Her sword thrust in front of her. She aimed at the moving bulk beneath the creature’s jaw. There a dull red glow showed the heat source for the beast’s flame throwing talent.

Mark’s actions caused the beast to turn, spewing forth flame. Bethany’s sword lunge struck soft flesh, tearing the skin as the reptile turned. Not enough to do much damage, but the beast flung its head back toward her. Flames followed. Smoke and fire spilled across the wall and rolled along the floor. Lino tiles bubbled. Paint peeled and the glass in the corridor windows cracked.

Bethany stepped back as her crocodilian foe turned yellow eyes in her direction. Lumbering toward her, flames flowing freely along the narrow hall.

She used the fire blanket as a shield. Mark shouted and his baseball bat again smashed onto the spiked tail. The crocodile screamed and turned. Its huge body blocked the limited space and for a moment Mark had time to retreat.

Bethany tried to get closer, swinging the axe, chopping at the hind quarters before the tail came slashing toward her.

Stella’s voice echoed in her head. “Dave’s spell…”

“Go on!” Bethany watched Mark lift the fire extinguisher, training foam at the creature’s flames.

Billowing clouds of steam, smoke and scorched wood work blocked her vision. Mark’s voice carried through the yowling conflagration.

“By the light of Orion’s sword, open, orfacemywrath.”

“Gather the others, we need to do this together.” Bethany touched her bracelet. 

“Mark, I will open the portal. Hang in there for a moment more.”

“Hurry.” One word. Unnecessary.

Releasing the axe, Bethany clutched the bracelet. The energy of shared power flowed through Bethany, warming her, inspiring confidence.

She lifted a hand, described a circle as she repeated Dave’s spell.

A flickering blue halo formed. Vision through the circle appeared distorted, as though she looked through a layer of water.

“Right… here we go. Mark… it’s time.”

Bethany grabbed the axe and hurled it with all her strength. The spinning weapon slewed passed the glowing portal. Bethany added a spell of accuracy and power to her throw. The axe tumbled through the air.

The creature’s focus on Mark broke when the axe struck home. Although the damage to thick scales seemed minor, the crocodile spun. Massive bulk negotiated the narrow hall with amazing speed.

“Come on!” Bethany taunted. Waving the silver fire blanket and flourishing her sword. “Come and get me!”

She stepped forward, close to the portal, tempting the beast to attack her.

A flurry of flame spewed toward her. The orange tongue didn’t touch her.

The portal worked. All she needed to do was to persuade the creature to step through the circle.

She waved her arms, using the blanket as a flag. The sword as a distraction. The creature paused.

“Come on!” Desperation crept into her tone. The portal took too much energy to hold open.

  Flames licked at the floor, the walls and the ceiling. Still the beast remained where it stood, thrashing its head from side to side. Not stepping forward.

Mark’s figure emerged through the smoke screen. He leapt onto the creature’s scaled back, running along its spine. When he reached its neck he jumped clear and sprinted passed its snapping jaws. Dodging the portal, he joined Bethany in front of the beast.

Enraged the crocodile charged forward. Straight through the portal.

“Close.” Bethany shouted, although sudden quiet filled the hallway.

Only smoke, debris and three bedraggled sorcerers remained in the wreckage.

“We did it.” Mark offered Bethany a high five. Stella scrambled to her feet, brushing chalk off her hands.

“Yea team. Teams…” Bethany clutched her bracelet. “We did it. Relax. Now to clear up the mess and get out of here before people start asking questions.”

“I vote for coffee and debrief at the Coffee Bean.” Stella sighed.

“Coffee… or something stronger. Coffee to begin with.” Mark agreed.

“Grace says Dave is recovering.” Stella scrambled to her feet. “Her healing spells are working well. They will meet us when he gets signed out of emergency.” 

Together the three newly chosen sorcerers trudged clear of the wreckage, turning their back on the looming school building. They greeted their strange assortment of familiars with relief.

The teams of human magic wielders gathered around them. Today's success filled them with renewed enthusiasm for their new talents. Pride blossomed within Bethany, each team would need to 'get schooled' in magic, but for now she was eager to leave the bricks and mortar of school behind.

***

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

Follow:  Blog,

 Website

Chronicles of Caleath Facebook 

A Gathering Of Fantasy Readers and Writers Facebook group

The Arrival of Magic

Bethany faces a changing world.

Light escaped through a crack in the closed curtains. Bats hunted overhead. Strains of music carried on the crisp winter air. Occasional lyrics describing hazy, lazy days of summer seemed out of place beneath the canopy of stars.

Above, a clear sky offered a breathtaking display of the Milky Way. Bethany and Mark both peered into their own piece of precious equipment. Intense focus isolated them from the world. Beth’s camera clicked and her intake of breath drew a grunt from Mark. Hunched over the eye piece of a telescope he didn’t lift his head, but angled it slightly, as though waiting for her to elaborate.

“Fantastic.” Her warm breath formed into mist.

“You get a good image?” Mark muttered. “I have the most amazing view here, too.”

 Venus and Jupiter shone as a single entity. The clear night and distance from civilization enabled perfect viewing of the phenomena. Bethany turned her focus to Sirius, taking a long exposure of the dog star. It seemed fitting to include Orion’s dog in her night’s images. The Northern Hemisphere was enjoying their ‘dog days’, named after the bright star. Her internet contacts complained about the heat of their sultry summer, while she shivered through winter. 

“Thank goodness we could book the cabin. What a great idea. I can’t believe the others are more interested in keeping warm.” Bethany grinned. “They have no sense of adventure.”

“Wine, cards, the open fire. They just don’t understand the awesomeness of the moment.” Mark shifted the stool he perched on. “Their loss.”

“It makes such a difference not having the lights of town to interfere with my photos.”

“Ditto.”

Bethany changed the aperture setting and adjusted her tripod. Silence fell. Only the quiet strains of music disturbed the perfect night. Sharing a passion with Mark cemented their growing friendship.

Friendship, not relationship. Her initial disappointment faded as she discovered Mark’s interest in keeping her company came from his wanting to meet her colleague, Ethan. Mark though, proved to be a trusted friend and Bethany felt comfortable confiding in him.

A shower of bright lights flickered across her line of sight. Snapping the camera’s shutter, she scowled. What sort of shooting star, satellite, or UFO would cause such a display?

She glanced across to see if Mark noticed the strange event. His head remained low over the telescope. His shoulders appeared slumped, as though he had fallen asleep. 

Unlikely. Not when the stars provided such a magic display.

Background music slowed, as though running on failing batteries. The lower tones sounded like a whale song, gone wrong.

“Don’t panic.”

Bethany turned toward the voice. Normal speed. Normal tone. Sudden fear gripped her. The voice seemed to come from a cloud of soft light. A spiderweb of luminescence swirled slowly in the darkness beneath the cottage’s garden hedge. She breathed in. The scent of honeysuckle surprised her. Odd scent for winter. Terror filled her heart. Panic rose to choke her.

“Bethany, tonight you must make a choice.”

Bethany resisted the urge to scream, run, or laugh aloud. Wondering how she overcame her initial horror she remained standing, stock still. The whirling light took the shape of a human figure. No details, but obviously once human. Bethany bit her cheek. Did insanity ran in her family? What weird herbs did Stella mix into the stew she had consumed for dinner? Were they to blame for this hallucination? 

The figure seemed oblivious to her dismay.

“You have been tested.” The earnest voice continued. “You have proved your ability to withstand temptation, your soul is pure. You are exactly what we need.”

Bethany nearly choked.  “Need? Need for what?”

“Tonight magic is returning to this world. If you choose to accept your role in this momentous occasion, you will be one of the first diviners.”

“Whoa.” Bethany trembled. Not from the cold, though she became aware of the biting air entering her lungs. Fear didn’t make her shake, but the tone the voice used bordered on melodramatic. The cloudy figure shimmered. Bethany shook her head, trying to find a logical explaination for the voice and her vision. “Who are you? Better still, what are you? And why have you been testing me?”

“Fair enough. I suppose an explanation is warranted, though there isn’t much time for chit chat.”

“So, explain. I am all ears.” Trying to remain calm took most of her concentration. Above her the night sky stretched, clear and crisp. The cottage light still filtered through the cold air. Mark appeared unharmed, relaxed where he slumped over his telescope. No bats crossed the sky, and the strains of music still sounded strained and odd. The scent of blossom remained. Bethany steeled herself and focused on the voice and the words it spoke.

“You can call me Warlock." 

The voice paused, as though assessing the name. 

"Warlock is a title fitting my skills." The moment of introspection passed and the tone returned to businesslike and efficient.  "You have the ability to be a diviner. As magic spreads we need diviners who can assess souls to offer the gift of magic to. Your job will be finding and evaluating candidates, and allocating the types of skills each recipient will receive.”

“Magic? Skills?” Bethany's breathing returned to normal. Her pulse settled. Almost as though she fell under the spell of the warlock's words. 

“Healing, telepathy, energy conversion, seeing into the future and the past, controlling the elements. You know the sort of thing… what you don’t know, you will learn. If you accept the role of diviner you will be equipped with the power you need for your task.”

“I will be able to do magic?” Bethany grinned. If she was dreaming, she didn't want to wake, until she learnt more. Magic. Cool. “So, is there a downside?”

“Sadly, yes. You show wisdom asking this. Diviners have the ability to give the gift of magic, but where they choose a damaged soul or mis-assess a recipient, they also have the obligation to rescind the gift.”

“Fair enough.” She didn't really want to know. The  responsibility sounded pretty intense.

“Think about it, Bethany. Those who are chosen must be pure of spirit. Should a diviner’s assessment be clouded; by emotion or magic, the sorcerer with the damaged soul is not going to give up power willingly. Diviners need protection. There is no guarantee every witch or wizard they create will be perfect. The human race sadly has proven over the ages to be deceptive. Your task comes with a certain  amount of risk.”

“But I will have the skills necessary to perform it?" Doubt eroded her confidence. "You said as much.”

“Allowing for my choice being correct and you passing the tests… you didn’t fail the test of temptation with the cube. Your handling of a change in luck has shown your true colours. Forgive my clichés, but we don’t have much time to elaborate. Your innate skills should suffice, with the added ability of perception you will receive. I will also leave you with a talisman.”

Around Bethany's wrist a delicate silver bracelet curled. It spread warmth and calm through her body. She caressed it. The surface tingled beneath her fingertips. Confidence returned.

“So my mission, should I accept it…is to find other people to share the magic. I get to give them power? But my choice could backfire if I choose the wrong person, with the wrong outlook. Good vs evil type thing?” 

The bracelet vibrated and Bethany could hear the warlock's voice in her mind, rather than through the chill night air. The smell of spring blossom filled her. Warmth spread through her body. Words flowed through her mind. “Basically, in a nutshell.”

“Right.” Bethany shivered and chewed her bottom lip. After a moment she continued. “How do I get training?”

“Training. Yes. Time is important. First thing to do is find a guide and a protector. These must be souls you trust… with your life. Give them a bracelet, you will know how, when the need arises. They can shape them to suit their taste. The bracelet will allow communication between you and your team.  You can’t waste time choosing your team, either. This task must be accomplished as soon as possible. Second, you should choose a familiar. You do know what they are?”

“I’ve read a few fantasies." Bethany frowned. "Where I live is not pet friendly.”

“Think outside the box then. Your choice. Your familiar will be vital to your growth, so choose well.”

“What about you?" Bethany lifted her hand to peer at the silver bracelet twinkling in the warlock's light. "Will you be around to answer questions? Can I contact you?”

“If you need to contact me, each team member needs to be involved in the summoning." The vibrations paused. Bethany waited. After a heartbeat the warlock continued,  "Don't call unless you have dire need. It is my task to find and deliver magic to diviners. You are not alone. I doubt we will meet again, unless you make a mess of things. Trust yourself and the magic. I have done my research.” The figure shimmered. The scent of blossom grew stronger. Bethany struggled not to sneeze.

"Can I contact other diviners?" Bethany asked in an urgent breath. The thought of the warlock leaving left her feeling nervous and confidence eroded again.

"They will most likely be looking for you. You are the first to be given their gift, Bethany. At least in this region. Others will look to you for guidance."

"No stress then?" Bethany sagged beneath the perceived burden. 

"Don't doubt yourself. Or my choices. Trust the magic, be yourself and trust your instinct." The warlock seemed to gather his light form. 

 “Now, time is passing, even though I have slowed it down.” The warlock’s image tightened. Bethany could recognise human features within the light. For a moment he appeared dressed in a tailored coat, high collar, cravat, double breasted and ornate cuffs. His face appeared younger than Bethany expected. Almost handsome, bright friendly expression, a neat goatee. An even smile revealed crooked teeth. He raised a translucent hand to adjust the broad brimmed hat, complete with flourishing feather. His outfit could have been lifted from a picture book of the Musketeers. Warlock's smile evaporated. “You must consider well before sharing this new role with your friends. Do you trust any of them?" His expression matched his earnest tone. "Don’t let physical attraction overshadow common sense and gut instinct. Find your protector and guide as soon as you can. This is vital. You must be protected and guided. Is everything clear? You accept your role?”

Bethany nodded. “I do.” She grinned. “I can’t believe I am saying this. It will be disappointing when I wake tomorrow morning with just a headache and no talent.”

The figure of light swirled and the warlock’s illumination began to fade. “Sorry, Bethany, I must be on my way. Use your powers sparingly until you have mastered them. Trust your heart.”

Bethany shivered again. Despite the band of warmth around her wrist cold seeped into her bones. The night closed in around her, darker and less inspiring than previously. 

Mark roused, snuffled and coughed. “Well that’s odd,” he said scratching his forehead beneath his beanie. “I feel as though I have been asleep. My fingers are numb, I am freezing. I wasn’t cold a moment ago.”

“Yeah, me too.” Bethany closed the lens cap on her camera. “Wanna go inside and get warm?”

“Reckon. It’s been a brilliant night’s viewing, Beth.” Mark proceeded to disassemble his telescope. "Magic."

“Magic.” Bethany repeated the word, wondering how her life would change as the stars rolled through the heavens and magic became part of her world.

***

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

Follow:  Blog,

 Website

Chronicles of Caleath Facebook 

A Gathering Of Fantasy Readers and Writers Facebook group

The Message by Eric Price

I feel like I owe an explanation here. When I first agreed to be a part of LQR, and I read the list of topics, I did some quick brainstorming of possible story ideas. For freedom I thought of a great story about a Jew barely surviving in Auschwitz. As the months have passed, I discovered by second book, The Squire and the Slave Master, would come out in August, so I decided to use a freedom excerpt from the book instead of the Auschwitz story. I never wrote the other story, but if you are more in the mood for historical fiction than fantasy, I apologize. I assure you it would have been the best concentration camp story since Elie Wiesel's Night. Who knows? Maybe I'll have an opportunity to write it in the future.

“Sir, the third ship has arrived.”

Casimir didn’t turn from the window. “Yes, Bronislaw, I’ve seen it. Prepare your men for battle. Hold a few back as guards. If any of the slaves turn against us, execute them.”

The sound of Bronislaw’s footsteps faded as he exited the chamber.

A bird flew past the upper chamber and caught Casimir’s attention. I thought I killed all the birds. Oh well, I’ll get rid of this one too.

He raised his staff but lowered it when the bird redirected for the temple. A scroll of parchment dangled from its ankle. The bird landed on the altar in the center of the room. Casimir approached it with caution. It held up a leg, and he removed and unrolled the scroll. The letter didn’t have a signature, but it didn’t need one. He recognized the handwriting from years of correspondence.

I’m free. I understand what you plan to do, but it must stop. You aren’t powerful enough with magic. The temple will open a portal to the underworld, but you’ll never manage to close it and whose body do you think he’ll take? Someone so powerful won’t survive in a body with no magical experience. He will exhaust it in less than a day. Surrender your plan and join me in the swamp in the Southern Domain. Argnam already built the necessary accommodations there.

The paper flashed into flames on his palm. “You had your chance. I have a plan and a reasonable backup plan, which is more than you’ve ever had.”

The bird pecked at a pair of tiny beetles scurrying along the wall. With the flick of his staff, a green orb of light shot and hit the bird. A singed smell and a few feathers were all that remained.

From the window, he could see troops following the path from the beach to the temple. He watched the ships for the sign. A few flashes of light came in quick succession from the southernmost ship.

“Damn!” He thought back to the note. “It’s all right. I can still do this even though he doesn’t have the magician.” He held his staff high and returned a message in flashing lights. “Change of plans. We have to capture Mansfield. Alive.”

Three lines of slaves faced east in anticipation of the troops coming through the woods. Perfect.

Casimir closed the towering double doors as he exited the chamber. With his staff and a brief incantation, he placed an invisible barrier on the room. He took a piece of stone from a pile of rubble in a corner and tossed it at the door. In a flash, it became dust and smoke. Smiling, he left in search of Bronislaw.

Outside the door of the temple, the slaves waited for the pending battle. Bronislaw had taken a spot on high ground where he could overlook the battle soon to unfurl.

Casimir strolled up to him. “We have a new arrangement. They lost the magician. I need Mansfield alive. If you find him, bring him to me.”

Bronislaw nodded and signaled to his lieutenants.

He returned to the entrance of the temple and watched the battle unfold. The first troops emerged from the forest to an onslaught from the slaves. They had probably expected to hit them with a surprise attack, but the slaves had known. Casimir had known. Casimir always knew.

The second group emerged with their swords and shields at the ready. The slaves matched them well in strength but outlasted them in stamina. Most of the fishermen from Beroe had little or no battle training.

Mansfield’s men had one major disadvantage that greatly outweighed even their lower endurance or their lack of training. Twice Casimir noticed the soldiers relinquish an opportunity to slay their opponents.

They don’t want to kill. They see my slaves as innocent victims.

Another group emerged from the trees. They almost exclusively donned long beards and, barring their sunburns, looked a lot like many of the more recently acquired slaves. Some of the slaves hesitated; others dropped their weapons.

Now we’ll identify my dedicated servants, those who recognize what they have gained by coming here.

Several slaves, most of them having significantly different appearances to the men from Beroe—taller, more muscular, darker skin, some thin with scraggly beards—turned their attention to the traitors. With their weapons lowered, they had no defense. A distant voice shouted, “No!” Heads and limbs splashed into pools of blood as men turned on each other, betraying their former lives for the promises of their master.

****

Eric Price lives with his wife and two sons in northwest Iowa. He began publishing in 2008 when he started writing a quarterly column for a local newspaper. Later that same year he published his first work of fiction, a spooky children’s story called Ghost Bed and Ghoul Breakfast. Since then, he has written stories for children, young adults, and adults. Three of his science fiction stories have won honorable mention from the CrossTime Annual Science Fiction Contest. His first YA fantasy novel, Unveiling the Wizards’ Shroud, received the Children’s Literary Classics Seal of Approval and the Literary Classics Award for Best First Novel. His second novel, The Squire and the Slave Master, continues the Saga of the Wizards. It is scheduled for an August 4, 2015 release. Find him online at authorericprice.com, Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.

Does Magic Exist?

Continued from THE CUBE...What happens when the numbers fall into place and Bethany holds a multi-million dollar winning ticket.

Unbelievable.

I checked and rechecked the numbers for the millionth time. At least once for every dollar the ticket might, no, would win. Even if there were several lucky winners the numbers meant I could donate millions to my favourite charity. Anonymously of course, and there I stumbled on another problem.

Not that holding the winning ticket to a mammoth lotto win was a problem. No. My problem stemmed from the undermining of my faith in the world where I lived.

Magic didn’t exist here. Fair enough, there were magicians. Clever illusionists. I give them credit for their skills, but that’s not the magic I refer to. Nor were the ‘miracles’ performed by saints what I considered ‘magic’, though they ,too, left me wondering and hoping they were real.

If I credited my choice of winning numbers to the strange cube given to me by a total stranger, then I must by default, admit to believing in something very similar to magic. Fate? Destiny? They didn’t quite cover the apprehension and fear I saw in the stranger’s dying eyes. Had he been cynical, when he stood at the crossroad on which I now stood? Did disbelief lead him to a lethal miscalculation? Did I believe in coincidence?

If magic didn’t exist and I ignored the stranger’s warnings, the outcome of not following his precise instructions would leave me with a magical figure in my bank account. Would it also leave me to share his fate, fading away with a lethal disease?

At this stage I can’t even rely on following the choice my character might make. Being an author gives me multiple personalities to run ideas through. Only this was too important to leave to a flawed heroine, hero type or villain.

If I carried on with my plan, donating the winning ticket to a charity of my choice without touching a penny of the windfall, my actions would prove I do believe in magic. Do I? Is this my world, where science rules and logic defies even the most wonderful mysteries? Does God exist? Are we alone? Why do I need to debate these deep topics? My life has flowed from one day to the next, without much drama. Life, love, work and recreation, holidays and chillaxing with my peeps. Nothing to complain about. Mundane but exactly as I envisage things. Of course, I am still waiting, dreaming of meeting ‘Mr Right’ but in the meantime I enjoy each relationship I enter into.

I run my fingers over the winning ticket. The paper is cheap, the print will probably fade. Hardly a million dollars’ worth of paper and ink. It could change my life. Don’t think I haven’t lain awake all night spending every dollar, again and again… The things I could do, the people I could help. Would setting up my own charity count as ‘giving’ the money to charity? Or would that break the cube’s rules. Would I dare try to trick the magic? If I believed in it?

I unfolded a printed sheet of paper and re read the wording I had penned. Anonymous donation. There were more rules though. My rules. Listed in point form. I placed the ticket on the paper and refolded the letter with care. Once satisfied the ticket was safe I slipped the paper into an envelope and sealed it. Taking care, I applied a strip of tape over each end and across the seal. For added security. On the front of the envelope I had printed the words ‘Only to be Opened in the Presence of a Quorum of Members’.

I didn’t want the ticket to tempt an over-worked volunteer. The unregistered winning ticket although on cheap paper and printed with poor ink was worth millions to anyone who handed it in. I wanted to ensure it found its way into the coffers of the charity and not the pocket of one person.

I had also printed a covering letter to explain the need to only open the sealed envelope  where enough working members of the charity were gathered. Feeling confident I had taken enough precaution against temptation I closed the brown business envelope, already addressed to the charity in question, and headed to the post office.

The early morning rush crowded the mall. I strode passed the Magic Bean Café, resisting the aroma. My purpose drove me to dodge the scurrying workers. I would join them soon. For now though I had time to spare. I needed it. My hands were sweaty, my knees shaking though I walked determinedly toward the Post office. Joining the queue I needed to remind myself to breathe. I clutched the envelope in one hand, the other strangled the straps of my handbag. Finally, gasping for air as though I had run a marathon I approached the counter.

“How can I help you?” The sales girl addressed me. This was the moment of truth. No return from here.

It took me a moment to calm my racing heart and ask for the envelope to be sent registered mail. Yes, signature required. Yes, tracking. Or should that be ‘no’? I didn’t want the charity to trace the donation back to me. Could I leave a multi-million dollar ticket to find its way through the post?

I chewed my bottom lip, wondering how I could have overlooked researching this aspect of the project. The patient sales attendant became less patient. I dithered and decided.

“Just register the envelope to get to its destination. They don’t need to know it is from me.”

“Seven dollars eighty, thanks.”

She didn’t even raise an eyebrow as she stamped the envelope, initialled the corner and tossed the whole thing behind her into a huge burlap bag.

Done.

I believe in magic. I must, why else would I cast aside a multi-million dollar windfall. I was either the world's most gullible idiot or in line to have a change of luck. Good luck.

I turned from the counter and bumped into one of the scurrying workers.

Blake, the ‘oh so hot’ bachelor who worked upstairs and who my colleagues voted “Mr Most Eligible”, caught my arm and steadied me.

“Sorry…” I muttered, still trying to stop shaking. I wanted him to keep holding me. His hand didn’t shake and his strength helped my heart and head focus on something other than the likelihood magic existed.

“Listen, you look a little flustered. Why don’t we grab a coffee, and I will walk you to work.”

“You? What? We, I mean me… would I?” My tongue refused to be associated with further embarrassment and my mutterings faded. I took a deep breath and forced real words into being. “That would be great. I am a little rattled.”

“Great. You aren’t usually in this early. You’re Bethany, right? I have seen you so often yet we haven’t met properly. I’m Blake. I work…”

“Upstairs. I know.” Damn, why couldn’t I say something clever, witty or even keep my mouth shut. Did it sound as if he was a regular topic in our staff room? 

He grinned. “Come on. The Magic Bean Café had a spare table a moment ago. I will shout you a drink this time, but next time it’s your turn, okay?”

Next time… Okay, I needed to sit down and re assess my world. What luck, good luck, to have Blake not only ask me to have coffee with him, but to ensure we met again, for a drink.

Unbelievable. I was beginning to believe in magic. 
***

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

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New Beginning by Dianne Hartsock

~A love so Familiar

"Stop fussing."

"It itches."

With an exasperated breath, Maxim stepped closer and straightened Camron's collar. Camron gripped his chin, forcing the man to meet his gaze. The beautiful half of Maxim's face flushed at his stare.

"It's you the prince should be honoring," Camron said with heat.

Maxim's laugh was painful. "I'd frighten the children."

Camron cupped the ravaged cheek, scarred by fire that had nearly taken Maxim's life in infancy. He held his blue gaze, his heart full of sorrow. "I see you in there, Maxim, more precious than any jewel."

"You are the exception. Now, let us go in. It's spring, Camron! A time of rebirth and growth, and our young prince must be given his chance to help his people prosper. Lord Fenton promises to raze this city to the ground. We must do what we can to stop him." Maxim's lips twisted in a wry smile. "Even if that means first sitting through an insufferable dinner party given in your honor."

Camron ground his teeth. "With you at my feet, eating scraps."

"Wonder what he'll be serving?" Maxim looked up from unbuttoning his blouse. "Close your eyes."

Camron set his lips, but obeyed the pleading tone. He'd never been allowed to see, though he longed to know every inch of the man's body, take some of his pain and loneliness away. But what did he have to offer the powerful mage? Besides the dubious ability to make others believe the magic came from him. They never looked past Maxim's tortured shell.

Maxim's indrawn breath grew ragged and pain clutched Camron's heart. He knew the agony it cost him to change. Camron's hair lifted at the sudden charge in the air, skin prickling as if anticipating a lightning strike.  Breathing grew difficult, and then his ears popped in a release of energy. Eyes still tightly closed, he couldn't control a shudder as the small creature leaped on his back, climbing onto his shoulder.

"I hate this," he muttered through clenched teeth. A tiny claw touched his face and Camron opened his eyes, turning his head to meet Maxim's intense gaze. Maxim couldn't speak in this guise, but he didn't need to. Camron knew what was expected of him. He'd played his part many times, ever since Maxim had pulled him from near death in a back alley and given him a life, someone to follow and serve.

And love, though Maxim would have none of it. Camron firmed his lips. One day soon he'd tell Maxim his heart, though the man sent him away for it.

Camron adjusted his cloak and swept into the chamber to face the court, a wizard and his Familiar, come to save the besieged kingdom for their prince. But first there was dinner to get through. He paused in the doorway as all eyes swept to him, a room full of handsome uniformed men and woman in pretty gowns and glittering jewels. A long table bright with candles and crystal and more food than he'd seen in a year ran down its center.

Maxim made a soft sound and rubbed his furred head against Camron's neck, and the tension eased from him. He took a step forward, a practiced smile plastered on his face, assuming his role. He could do this.

-Artwork by Marcel Stevahn -One Good Eye Photography 

Dianne lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play.

Dianne is the author of m/m erotic romances, both contemporary and fantasy, the psychological thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. Oh, and a floral designer. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.  Blog   FB   Twitter