M. K. Theodoratus, Fantasy Writer
Blurb: The uneasy truce with the enemies surrounding the Far Isles Half-Elven is collapsing. An unprovoked attack, that kills her granddaughter and almost kills her daughter, is evidence enough for Mariah. But, will the fierce warrior and her ring-mate, Ashton, be able to convince Linden, Lord High Commander of the Marches, that their people are in danger?
With attacks coming from the Trestemontans from over the eastern sea, hints of magic among the magic-hating Suthron Hounds, and Drummer Shamans using Spirit drums made from the skins of live human sacrifices, the Half-Elven warriors have reason to worry.
Praise for Vengeance:
“A magical novel that takes you into the world of half-elves.”
“A great mix of fantasy and humour.”
“A well-written novel packed with vivid imagery, strong world-building, characters that resonate with the reader and a single thread of taking vengeance for the death of a loved one.”
Black Tail, Lady Renna's Pig
All about ghosts, demons, elves, mages, and
other preternatural beings
The Newest Andor Novelette:
Young Dumdie Swartz has always hated seeing ghosts, but the teen learns there’s something worse than spirits when a demon decides it wants to possess her.
A story about Dumdie Swartz, of The Ghost in the Closet,
coming to grips with her ability to see ghosts.
"A thoroughly enjoyable read!"
"interesting and highly compelling"
Visit the dedicated Far Isles page for back story and history about Mariah and Renna. Mariah was the catalyst for this stage of my writing career when I imagined her standing on a cliff over the ocean with her long reddish hair blowing behind her. While I have novel-length wips in my computer, my published work takes the form of fantasy short stories.
Welcome to My Supernatural Fantasy Worldsl My Supernatural Fantasy Worlds
Eighth Sample: On the Run
19 September 2015
Read a Snippet of My Current Work-in-Progress:
A couple times a month I post a sample of the book I'm spend the most time with. You can find previous postings at the page "Fantasy Story In Progress".
In spite of her foster mother’s high hopes her magical talents are late in blooming, Pillar Beccon graduates from high school a null, with a bare trace of magic. Pillar has resigned herself to leaving her Freemage communityto become a Kingscourt flunky. But when an unexpected chance to learn more about her mysterious birth family appears, Pillar grabs the opportunity. Only to learn her beginnings are more complicated than she ever dreamed. The demon chasing her across Andor is a minor complication.
An everlasting, tense and silent journey into the forested mountains followed the anger- flavored lunch after her rescue. Pillar’s teeth set for mayhem. The rigid woman beside her didn’t speak once, not even to comment on something stupid like the weather. When she glanced Pillar’s way to check the traffic, her lip nose curled as if she smelled something bad. Only Delia’s training prevented the snide commentary running in Pillar’s head from reaching her lips.
Okay. So, I got caught like a dumbass. Get over it, bitch.
The car climbed deeper and higher into hills furrowed by rivers and streams. Here and there meadows opened up only to disappear as Thelma drove. Pillar found herself missing the bare crags and narrow valleys she grew up in. Here, mile after mile of broad-leafed trees crowded with green undergrowth grew so thick she could see little of the wider landscape from the road. The trees fenced her in as much as Cousin Thelma’s animosity. To amuse herself, she memorized the few landmarks along the road.
I may need an escape route. Pillar grew angrier. Why do Freemages have to live so far away from everything?
The charged silence between them tired her more than her bouncing night on the bus. Her closing eyes fought against the jolts from the potholes, keeping her awake. Clenching her teeth, Pillar endured the wordless trip. She willed herself not to cry but swallowed tears, nonetheless.
Oh, Delia. You were so right. People should always think before they jump.
Wishing she could cut and run back to the world she knew, Pillar hunkered deeper into the seat. Memories of doing clean up along the roads as punishment for class infractions added to Pillar’s dejection. She could never remember being so quiet for so long. Just as Pillar noticed a small platform contained four milk cans, Thelma slowed down for a turnout cut into the broad-leaved trees and shrubs lining the road.
Turning off the paved road onto a graveled surface, Thelma parked. “Almost there. I have to gather the empty milk cans.”
“You run a farm as well as the school?” asked Pillar, reaching for something innocuous, even polite, to say.
Thelma looked down her long nose at her as if Pillar were an absolute idiot. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I’ve read some mage communities concentrate on crafts and small manufactories.”
Pillar’s attempt to be friendly dropped like a rock in a sludge pond. Thelma sniffed as she got out to perform the chore. Pillar crossed her arms and ignored her first impulse to get out of the car and help.
See if I care if you break a sweat.