2025 E : Event in St. Louis

   

Next in the challenge is E for events. In this case, I am referring to Books by the Arch, a reader event being held October 11, 2025 at the Drury Plaza Hotel, St. Louis, Missouri.

If you are in the area, I hope you will stop by. The authors would love to meet you. And if you would like to pre-order a book, either mine or another authors, their forms can be found here as the authors add their forms. So be sure to check back.

I hope you will check out my books. Reviews, excepts, buy links and a free read of first chapters can be found in the pull-down menus at the top of the page.

 ~till next time, Helen 

If you're following other blogs in the challenge, here's the master list of the other participants.

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2025 D : Disguise

 Next in the challenge is "D" for disguise. Disguises can be achieved in various ways. Trellier used magic in the Tear Stone Collectors to hide his dragon form. Unless he chose to reveal his true self, all anyone saw was tall, thin man, a scholar who was totally unskilled in the handling of weapons. In reality, his abilities wish a sword were impressive, more so when supplemented by dragon strength.

In Dragon Destiny, Anastasia donned the physical disguise of a teen-age boy so that she could attend the Ceoltier Guild. The disguise was necessary because only men could study there. Both masters and students knew Anastasia's true gender, but didn't care. Anastasia, or Stosh, her cover identity, was one of them.

From Windmaster,another type of disguise, misdirection both physical and mental.

Captain Ellspeth and Lord Dal are out of supplies. The storekeep couldn't get their order ready until morning and a decision had to be made whether to spend the night or continue on. The inn meant shelter for the night, a hot meal, and respite from the frantic run across the countryside. As part of their disguise, Dal dressed in the armor of his mercenary days, while Ellspeth wore the clothes and slave chain of his captured concubine. Dal's physical presence precluded any of the tavern's patrons from asking too many questions. Until the fanatic cleric who wanted to kill them strode into the room and arrogantly demanded to hire Dal. And have the services of his woman for the night.

In between sips of caffa, Ellspeth continued her inspection of the tavern’s other patrons. The sense of being stared at was overwhelming. Eyes seemed to claw at her clothes. She steeled herself to endure it. Despite the fact the low-cut blue dress she had changed into at their last meal break did not reveal much more than her usual garb of breeches and vest, she could not fight the feeling of being exposed. Her skin crawled at a sudden realization. As Dal’s slave, she could not refuse any man’s advances.

I hope Dal’s right, that no sane person would test the mercenary he appears to be.

But an armed drunk might, came the insidious answer from her fear.

Her eyes still downcast as appropriate to her station, Ellspeth opened her eyelids just enough to scrutinize the other occupants. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Danger! Instinct drew her eyes to the staircase on the far wall. There! He is the source. A cleric in the long brown robes of the Oracle of Givneh plodded down the steps into her line of vision. Ellspeth’s breath caught in her throat. He was the same man who had tried to take Sea Falcon—to kill her crew.

“Dal,” she hissed, “he’s the one from the dock.”

Ellspeth’s thoughts raced. If she stayed, the cleric would recognize her. If she tried to leave, it would bring his attention to her even faster.

Dal’s strong arms wrapped around her waist. Ellspeth’s squeal as he pulled her onto his lap pierced the buzz of conversation and bounced off the rafters. His strength rendered her struggles useless. One of the men with his arms around a disheveled woman called out encouragement. Before she could object, Dal’s mouth covered hers. His right hand held the back of her head in a steel grip. Before her lungs were depleted of air, he released her just enough to catch a breath. The whiff of oxygen helped clear Ellspeth’s mind—and focus her thoughts. The cleric couldn’t recognize her if he couldn’t see her face.

Ellspeth tightened her leg muscles so her weight was supported by the edge of the bench rather than Dal’s knees. His exhalation was warm on her neck when he whispered, “Good girl,” into her hair.

She entwined her fingers into his thick curls. A pull signaled her cooperation, and she threw herself into the deception. Three quick tugs loosened the laces of his shirt exposing his chest. With a shrug, she inched her gown further down her shoulders. The iron links of Dal’s vest were cold on her skin as her caresses moved down his back.

But Ellspeth's disguise was more than pretending to be a concubine. There was a persona, a projection of what the world expected to see. She didn't rely on her own skills, or those she learned from her mother. Dal's mother helped with the outfit and physical appearance.

Ellspeth calculated how fast she could draw her weapon. Eilidh had showed her how to pull the narrow dagger from its leg sheath. Ellspeth prayed the hilt of the blade would not catch on the seam since she had never actually used the slit hidden in a fold of the gown’s full skirt.

“Go way,” Dal growled, “off duty.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? I am Gille Erim, Third Bishop of the Oracle.

“Don’ care. My orders are to disappear for a month. This woman is mine! Bought and paid for. And I plan on gittin’ what I paid for.”

The bishop’s indignant stutter broke off when the heavy trestle top clunked to the floor mere inches from his toes.

Ellspeth found herself hefted into the air in the same lithe movement Dal used to kick over the table. He rose and stepped around the obstruction. Fists pounded on tables and laughter resounded from the low ceiling as he draped her over his shoulder, her hair hanging down almost to the floor. Swift strides took him to the stairs. “Fearguis,” he yelled in a voice guaranteed to be heard above the clamor of a battlefield, “send our food upstairs.”

Ellspeth peered through tresses, now black at Eilidh’s suggestion, as they swung in time to Dal’s steps. What kind of woman is Dal’s mother? Not even my mother is as skilled in the arts of concealment and disguise.

I hope you enjoyed this visit to the world of Windmaster.

~till next time, Helen 

Buy Windmaster at Amazon and These Sites

If you're following other blogs in the challenge, here's the master list of the other participants.

2025 C : Caves and Caverns

   

Next in the challenge is "C" for Caves. One of the results of planning for this challenge, and from introspection with the new year, a realization crawled its way out of obscurity. Writers are often told to write what they know. Until I started looking for topics to match the A to Z, I had not realized how much of my personal experience had crept into the worlds of imagination I share with readers. An example is "Caves and Caverns." I had not realized how many caves and caverns I have toured over the years.

Image by Hans from Pixabay.

When dating my future husband, local spots such as the Lost River Caverns (Hellerstown, Pennsylvania) and Crystal Caves (Kutztown, Pennsylvania) provided a date destination. Later, we walked Howe Caverns (Howes Cave, New York) and rode a boat deep in the cave. Among our vacation destinations over the years was Lurray Caverns (Lurray, Virginia.) Although I did not know it at the time, these experiences leaked into the later written tale.

To set the stage of the excerpt, Lord Dal has ridden off to to divert an attacking force, leaving Ellspeth to find the magical talisman on her own. After fighting a carpet of living grass and the mental attacks of a rogue mage, she enters a hidden entrance in an ancient rock plateau.

From Windmaster:

The shadow of the talisman’s spirit separated from the wall. Without a break in her playing, Ellspeth bowed to the animated creature. It knelt on one knee in response, then with a kick of its heels, leaped back into the wall.

Ellspeth almost missed a note at the amazing sight, but managed to keep the song true. When she finished, she tucked the flute behind her belt. It only took four steps to reach the spot where the spirit disappeared. This time instead of hard rock, Ellspeth found the wall was not solid. A thin veneer curved from the middle of one wall to the opposite corner. Trusting the spirit to lead her, she circled behind the slab. The light from her torch cast an eerie reflection in the narrow space, but it showed her something more—a way deeper into the cave.

The floor’s slight downward slant provided a natural direction to follow. After a series of twisting turns, the last remnants of daylight trickling from the entrance disappeared. Soon the faint glow of torchlight became her sole illumination.

Deeper and deeper she walked, through chamber after chamber. In some, miniature versions of the spire rose from the floor, a trap to the unwary. A sense of unease aided by the weight of tons of earth on top of her grew stronger the further Ellspeth traveled. Each time a drop of cold water fell down from the ceiling onto her neck or some other spot of bare skin, she jumped. Her head ached from several whacks on low overhangs or one of the many plinths that hung down from the ceiling.

Time lost all meaning in the eternal shadows within the monolith.

~I hope you enjoyed this journey into my writing life (and the excerpt). till next time, Helen 

 

Buy Windmaster at Amazon and These sites.

If you're following other blogs in the challenge, here's the master list of the other participants.