Easier the Second Time Around? (Part 2) #mfrwhooks

 

 

Part 2 of the behind the scenes with the Dragshi Chronicles. The series chronicles the tales of the dragshi, beings who are more than just a man or woman, but two identities—one a dragon, the other a human. And like its characters, the romance-laden fantasy has a dual nature.

When I started writing, telling a good tale was sufficient. Nowadays, readers expect more--that characters change in some way, whether for the good or the bad. Ensuring the necessary depth of characters challenges me. And here is the other reason for the post’s title. Anastasia was a young girl in the short story. However, the second time around, to be the heroine in the novel I had to age her from a young woman to a vibrant adult to be a suitable love interest for Lord Branin. This presented a difficult task. The real Anastasia was still a child and that was how she lived in my mind. But, I knew if she was not presented well, her mother and grandmother (both of whom are several inches taller than me) might express their displeasure with a strategically placed size nine shoe. Of course, having to rise to the task took the work to a higher level.  

Now that I’ve revealed some of the behind the scenes tales of Dragon Destiny, here’s a taste of the story itself. Oh yes, one last thing. Lord Branin and Llewlyn still soar the skies about Cloud Eyrie. Four more books have been transcribed from the Ceoltier Guild tales of the dragshi. The full series is listed at The Dragshi Chronicles page or each individual book by clicking on the title in the banner.

Excerpt:

“Sorry, mistress,” an excited servant called. The door slammed open from the force of his blow. “The lightning is almost upon us. Even though the winter squalls were explained to them, all the true horses are panicking, and most of the seidheirn yearlings. Of the seidheirn, only Marsainn and his sons retain control of their emotions. Even they can’t calm the others. The grooms need help. Every dragshi is summoned to the stable.” 

 “Branin, I will get Ranald and organize the others. You have a special talent with both the seidheirn and the horses. Go,” Eirwen ordered. “We don’t need that crazy stallion of yours doing something stupid. Help Marsainn control his kin. Now, go.” 

Spurred on by the groom’s urgent look, Branin set down his cup, gave Eirwen a quick bow and sprinted from the room. Deafening cracks assaulted his ears before he covered more than ten paces. He had not realized how much the magic in the walls of Eirwen’s office had muted the sound of the weather’s fury. 

Rolls of thunder drowned out his running footsteps. The farther he and the servant raced from Eirwen’s private refuge, the louder the lightning cracked. Considering the severity of a storm so early in the season, Branin feared the tempests still to come. Minutes later, the winded servant in tow, Branin reached the stairwell closest to the stable. 

“So much for not getting wet,” he muttered. Even the short distance across the lawn meant a thorough soaking. “Stay here and close the door behind me.” He hid a smile at the servant’s hastily suppressed look of relief. 

 A mental count to three and Branin wrenched open the door. The raging wind forced him back a step. With a growl, he tucked his head against the stinging blasts and charged into the storm. Long strides carried him past the protective shelter of the wall. Water splashed with each step. Fighting the gusts, he finally reached the dark shape of the stable. 

 Half-blinded, he felt his way along the rough stone wall in search of the entrance until rain-slicked wood greeted his exploring fingers. Strong vibrations, as if a crazed animal threw itself against the door, rattled the planks.

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