Tag Archives: warrior

Tuesday Tales: Writing Crush

It’s good to be back with Tuesday Tales, after the stress and aftermath of Hurricane Irma. Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is crush. The excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy romance. Visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Realization settled like a stone in her belly. She was in the hands of the dreaded Firbolg, mortal enemies of her lineage, the Tuath. She had to figure a way out of this predicament.

Her stomach roiled from nerves and the rough trip Rhade insisted was necessary to escape the enemy. Without warning, he swung her from the mount and leapt down beside her, still clasping her arm. Shouts pierced the air. Their two escorts reacted with urgency, unsheathing their weapons and rushing toward the din.

Rhade hauled her up an incline toward a row of large rounded boulders and shoved her through a crevice and into a tight, enclosed space, landing on top of her. “They could not have seen you. You’re safe for the moment.”

Breathing was hard with his weight atop her. She pushed up at him as best she could, but her wrists were still tied together. She scrubbed the cloth from between her lips, and managed a hoarse whisper. “Damn you, barbarian. Get off. Are you trying to crush me? Who’s after you now? The Tuath?”

Grunting, he shifted his muscular form and maneuvered to the narrow crevice, peering through. “It’s the Fomor, not the Tuath, damn your eyes. Didn’t you hear their war cry? I’ve a good mind to toss you out to them.”

Her heart thudded. “You said I was safe.”

Courtesy free Pixabay

“Your wagging tongue makes me reconsider.”

“You have no reason to fear me. I’m not the priestess you think I am.”

He snarled. “I fear no one.”

“There’s no reason to hate me either.”

Blue eyes flashed. “Have you forgotten I saw you at the battle of Boyne?  Face of an angel, heart of obsidian. Your lies won’t work on me.” His voice hardened. “And don’t try any magic either, if you want to live another day.”

His words swirled around her like strums of music. He thought she would use magic on him? Human manipulation was against all she had been taught. Her lips parted, and her gaze narrowed, sorting out possibilities. Damn right she would. She just had to figure out how.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt crush. Thanks for stopping by. Make sure to visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Lake

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is lake. This week I’m leaving the vintage romance for a bit and going back to work on one of my soothing (to me) action packed fantasies. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Helle’s domain was the last place Rhade wanted to visit. When the Goddess of the Underworld summoned, you never knew whether it was for tea and scones or to scourge you bloody. Maybe you’d get out in one piece, or maybe thirteen. The pulse in his throat thudded at the sight of her grim expression.

The tautness of her face indicated disturbing emotions rippling beneath the surface. Flaxen hair framed strong cheekbones. Her wintry gray eyes glittered. In presentation she reminded him of the showcase fountain bearing secret passageway to her palace. An icy lake spurted jets of fire that rose and then crashed in startling and unpredictable abandon.

The Valkyrie's Vigil

Edward Robert Hughes [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Stern soldiers flanked her.

She extended the tips of her fingers. “Warrior.” The provocative scent of Lily of the Valley wafted into his nostrils.

He bowed his head to bestow a respectful kiss. “Divine One, how may I be of service?”

“Come with me.” She swiveled, and a bodyguard advanced beside her. She thrust out a palm. “Halt. You shall remain here.”

The uniformed man appeared bewildered. “But Divine One, your safety is my utmost responsibility. I beg you—”

Her visage turned fearsome. “Stay, I say. I will speak to the warrior in private.”

Beckoning Rhade to follow, she led him beyond the luxurious front rooms, down endless long corridors, and deep into the tunnels circling her cavernous domain. The pathways spiraled and coiled. He doubted even his well-honed sense of direction would save him if she abandoned him here.

What did she have to discuss that her own trusted guard could not hear? A surge of adrenalin sizzled through his body. He had never ventured this far inside Helle’s mysterious netherworld. She appeared to be leading him deep into her innermost sanctum.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt lake and the quick trip to the Underworld. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Fierce Snow

dec2016-possible6Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our prompt is a lovely picture. Since we are 80 degrees here in Florida, this wintry scene is especially appealing to me. I mean, give me a break! Even Hawaii is in the news for snow. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

She had never felt such bone chilling cold. The wind whipped around and through her and threatened to knock her off her feet. As the frigid temperature cut through her cloak, the world blurred.

She stumbled and called out, but he did not turn around. She called again, her voice cracking.

He swung around and gripped her elbows, concern pinching his features. “What’s the matter?”

“F-freezing,” she stammered, rubbing her gloved hands together in a frantic attempt to feel them. What good were her powers now? No doubt Kjell would have been better off with a witch from the north who could withstand the arctic’s embrace. Maybe she needed to channel one of the fearsome frost giants.

He leaned down close to her ear. “A hut lies just ahead. Can you make it a short distance further?”

A hut? With a warm fire and hot coffee? The vision swam in her head, and she nodded eagerly. The movement made her reel, and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the spinning.

Without words, Kjell swept her up into his arms.

She bit back a protest and rested her head against his chest. The thumping of his heart gentled her. Without any belabored breathing that she could detect, he carried her up the remainder of what she now realized was a steep incline.

The snow was deeper now and falling faster. Try as she might, Ursa distinguished no sign of a building ahead. A stand of evergreens was the only thing visible, boughs sagging from their icy burden.

As the hill crested, she made out an area that looked darker than the white surroundings. When they grew closer, a tremulous sigh escaped straight from her bones. A tiny hut nestled smack in the midst of the evergreens. In relief she melted against the warrior.

Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!Tuesday Tales
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Ghost

Tuesday TalesTuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our Halloween appropriate word is ghost. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Damn, he could devour a feast of oxen with no help at all. A smile creased his face at the thought of his father’s elaborate banquets, plentiful cattle and fowl covering the long table, juices dripping from their succulent flesh. His mouth watered. Banging his fists together, he rejoiced in the desire for food after all the dim eons in an aimless world—unseen by the humans he observed, ignored by other ghosts, confronted by the occasional demon.

His brow furrowed, and he wondered at his increased vitality. Was the curse fading? The possibility of becoming a man again caused his heart to thunder in his chest.

The demon serpent-lion he had fought and killed must have rekindled his warrior’s appetite. He smeared the red liquid across his chest. The first blood he had spilled in over a thousand years. He sucked blessed air into his lungs. The beast deserved a thousand deaths. It had dared bare its teeth at the woman.

In his mind’s eye, he saw her as she danced beneath the moonlight. Small of stature, but strong looking, she resembled a queen or goddess. Dark silken hair haloed an enraptured face as she lifted her arms to the sky. It seemed to him she was calling down the moon, in the same kind of secretive ritual he had learned of from his mother, concubine to the king. Women in such a stance took on the power of fabled times, and the one called Ivy was no exception.

Still, at the same time, she had looked all woman. Ritual over, she had appeared startled by his presence, for a moment only. Then she had stood firm and taken his measure. His loins twitched at the memory of her eyes on him.

His stomach rumbled. First things first. He must fill his belly. Then he would search out the woman.

Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Mythic Monday: 9 Things You Need to Know About the Warrior Hector

Karl Friedrich Deckler, The Farewell of Hector to Andromaque and Astyanax

Carl Friedrich Deckler [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

We all know Hector, Prince of Troy, for at least two key actions:

1) Like a good older brother, Hector took up for Paris when the unthinking rapscallion became besotted with Menelaus’ wife, Helen of Sparta, and stowed her away in the Trojan ship heading back to Troy.
2) As the Prince of Troy and in line for the throne, Hector fought with bold ferocity to protect his homeland from the invading Greeks.

But what else can we learn about Hector, the great champion of the Trojans and one of the most memorable warriors of all time? Much of our intel about him, of course, comes from Homer’s The Iliad (quotes below).

Friends and enemies alike only had good things to say about the noble Hector. He was admired for his fairness, determination, and integrity.

His parents were Priam, honorable King of Troy, and the lovely Hecuba.

Despite being heir to the throne with access to all the sumptuous luxury that Troy had to offer, Hector displayed noble behavior as the devoted husband of Andromache. His wife loved him dearly: “Nay, Hector, you who to me are father, mother, brother, and dear husband, have mercy upon me; stay here upon this wall; make not your child fatherless, and your wife a widow.”

Golden shining Apollo especially favored Hector, and Ares also stood on the side of the Trojans. Unfortunately for the Trojans, flashing eyed Athena, Zeus, and others lent their powers to the Greeks. Apollo said: “Let us rouse the valiant spirit of horse-taming Hector.” And later: “Trojans, rush on the foe, and do not let yourselves be thus beaten.”

During the war, Hector used various weapons to fight off the Greek aggressors, including swords, spears, and head bashing. He urged: “Trojans and allies, be men, my friends, and fight with might and main.” Greek warriors, including Agamemnon, prayed to Zeus to defeat Hector: “Grant that my sword may pierce the shirt of Hector about his heart, and that full many of his comrades may bite the dust as they fall dying round him.”

When Achilles’ best friend Patroclus donned Achilles’ armor, forged by Hephaestus, and joined the fray, finally confronting Hector, Hector defeated him tout suite and confiscated Achilles’ armor. This proved to be a turning point in the war, because it propelled a fury-filled Achilles, who had been sulking in his tent over some girl, to enter the battle. Now the two would face off, the most ferocious Greek warrior—Achilles, and Troy’s most valiant warrior—Hector.

Knowing of a weakness in the armor Hephaestus had forged for him, Achilles was able to pierce Hector in the neck. Afterward, Hector’s dead body was treated with ignominy by Achilles—dragged around on the ground behind a chariot and, for a time, denied a proper burial. Without Hector, the Trojans were pretty much doomed.

One of the most heartbreaking occurrences is the tradition of Hector’s small son Astyanax being thrown from the city walls so that he could not grow up to seek revenge on the Greeks. An interesting alternative tradition, however, has Astyanax survive and go on to found the Merovingian line of the Franks, leading up to the great Charlemagne. Obviously, I like the second idea much better than the first. That would be a fascinating story!

Hector’s half-brother Aeneas, a survivor of the Trojan War, went on to establish the great city of Rome. Despite defeat, cultures shift, merge, and re-emerge. Small trickles of the past continue into the present and future.

What are your thoughts about Hector? Achilles? The Trojan War? Have you enjoyed the Greek plays by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides? I confess I really love those plays.

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Fantasy Romances  Heaven or hell? Dream or nightmare? Where passion is concerned, the veils are thin.