I do hope everyone is having a marvelous spring! I know here in Feyron the unicornkin have been busily visiting each farmhold and field setting each garden ablaze with new flowers and dainty fairies. I've seen quite a few curious wisps playing in the morning mists as well. No doubt they are enjoying all of the bustle this time of year.
I am quite excited to be invited back for another blog hop with the IndieBRAG folks. This time they have asked me to play a little game. They tell me there is a holiday set aside specifically for jesting and joking, and that it was once common for storytellers to participate by offering up a tale and allowing the audience to guess if the tale might be true or false.
Now, I love a good tale, and I love to share my tales with you. It was the third tale set during the Age of Awakenings which was honored with a BRAG Medallion, Legacy of Mist and Shadow. May I present to you, a brief snippet of a tale. You are then invited to tell me - Is this a part of the Legacy or not?
Shyamal sat cross-legged beneath the canopy of the great oak not three paces from the gifting shrine, arms crossed and coal black eyes smoldering. Arwyn sat on the cool, hard-packed earth beside Shyamal, legs curled to the side. Leaning against his shoulder, she wrapped her arm through his and patted his hand.
“Don’t feel put out with Neria. This isn’t exactly the place for us to be tiring ourselves out, and she’s already projected two large visions today. I’m surprised Master Scholar didn’t make her drink a restorative and nap after the first one.” With a sigh and a nod, Shyamal relaxed and they watched as Neria and Zilya began to concentrate.
Orabelle leaned against the mountainside near the archway, watching with excitement. She always enjoyed watching the visions form when Neria worked. Orabelle thought the scholars could really benefit by having more members from Vocare, especially with all of the lovely antiquities coming to the Crystal Hall. She closed her eyes and wondered what the scholars could learn from the other relics, if this one music box had so much to teach them.
The alcove suddenly grew darker as the wisps flickered out, vanishing back into the realm from whence they came. A soft mist began to roll out from the darkened alcove as Shyamal closed his eyes and sighed, letting the mists call to him. Orabelle stepped away from the archway as the mist began to gather about her feet. She stumbled, sliding down the smooth, sloped wall of crystal into a mossy depression. As her hand brushed over the odd, milky crystal of this area during her fall, a small trickle of water began to flow down the face of the mountain. A pool gathered beneath her, oddly warm, not the usual chill from an underground spring. She closed her eyes, hands glowing blue as her magic sought the long forgotten spring that seemed to call out to her, asking to remember the sun.
A vision slowly formed in the mists. A small figure crawled from the forest pool as the waters bubbled up from below, her once smoky grey clothing now darkened from being soaked through during her travel, and her red-gold hair streamed rivulets of water. Although the deep river was as warm as a new drawn bath, it provided no pause as it flowed ever onwards, and the girl emerged, choking and retching as she gasped for breath.
Through blurred vision, the exhausted girl could just make out the soft glow of the white marble within the jewel-toned alcove. She crawled across the forest floor, every breath a searing pain as she forced herself to move when all she wanted was to drift away, to forget the horror of this day, and rest. She pulled herself up the cold stone, hardly even able to balance on her knees, until she could just reach across the flat top. Slowly she pulled the cloth bound around her chest and pushed a parcel onto the pedestal, the twisted cloth falling away to reveal a pale, wooden box.
Orabelle sat in the growing pool, the water spreading ever farther from the once forgotten spring. Her eyes were misty white and the blue of her water magic nearly reached her elbows as she continued to call the water forth as though she were the little naiad in the vision Neria had called before. Shyamal and Arwyn sat, arms still linked, nearly engulfed by the mists. Neither of them noticed the water beneath the mists creeping towards the alcove, the pool slowly covering Zilya’s feet...
So, what do you think? Excerpt from the book, or a tall tale written in jest?
IndieBRAG Blog Hop Prize & Giveaway
Each author is presenting a scene that may, or may not, be from their book. Follow the wisp to light your way from blog to blog as you read today. Take a good guess, make a careful choice, and decide for yourself if you hear the author's voice.
Comment on each post if the excerpt is real, or an April Fools jest. There are ten (10) other authors participating in the blog hop. Be sure to visit the indieBRAG Event Page to see their passages and enter for the Grand Prize - a $50.00 Amazon Gift Card!
Grand Prize and book giveaways start April 1st. The winner of the $50.00 Amazon Gift Card will be announced on April 5th on the indieBRAG Event Page. Each author will announce the winner for their giveaways on their sites at the date of their choosing.
The chance to enter for the prize and giveaways ends April 4th. The winner will for the Amazon prize will be announced on the indieBRAG Website on April 5th. And each author will announce the winner for their giveaways on their sites at the date they choose.
You must be 18 years or older to participate in the prize & giveaway.
Giveaway is open internationally.
Winner has 48 hours to claim prize and giveaway or a new winner is chosen.