I am excited to announce that a prequel novella for The Chronicles of Quat is written and in the publishing process at Luthando Coeur!! The novella is entitled... Discovering the Stone. I bet you can guess what the story is about!
Discovering the Stone novella is a quick look into the far history of the world of Quat when one of the most important events to ever happen changes the world by a young, unsuspecting pair of twins finding a Stone that can speak.
Keep an eye out for more information -- Coming Soon!
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
A Quote from The Gryphon
Soon to be released!
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
The Chronicles of Quat Short Story: A Night at the Pools of Ar'Dynn
The Chronicles of Quat Short Story:
A Night at the Pools of Ar'Dynn
by Bryen O'Riley
Tad peered through the thickening fog, he couldn't see anyone. It had rolled in so quickly, taking the midnight trespassers by surprise.
“Etan?” Chet?” he called out to the others, his 12 year old voice cracking as ever, but his words were muffled by the fog that hid even the light of the full moon.
Tad held his lantern closer to his face, seeking the comfort of the small flicker as his mind inevitably considered the impossible legend of the Mists of Ar'Dynn.
The story was a favourite of the older people in Idynn, especially at the harvest festival when they liked to scare the children.
Tad forced his feet to move, he hoped, toward home. He warily watched the fog that was now swirling oddly around him. He'd never seen mist move like that before— it seemed almost alive.
No, he couldn't think like that. He knew that mist couldn't devour a person's soul— yet in that dark, solitary moment Tad believed it and even if it wasn't true he wasn't willing to risk it.
Besides, what's a soul? He thought wryly. He remembered when Vetton had asked that during the fall celebration last year. The old people didn't respond, they'd only complained that 12 year olds should be hauling wood for the bonfire not listening to children's stories.
Later Vetton had confidently assure both he and Chet that such a response proved the adults didn't know what a soul was either. Tad reminded him such a hypothesis was hardly verified. While Chet argued that it just meant it was too scary to explain, even to 12 year olds.
A scream pierced the fog, and his thoughts. Tad nearly dropped his lantern in surprise but it was only a split second before he was running at full speed toward the sound. He and Chet had finally been invited to join Etan and his friends for one of their nighttime adventures, proving they were finally growing up, but Tad hadn't seen or heard any of the others since the mist had rolled in.
As Tad ran through it, the Mists of Ar'Dynn swirled and seemed to reach for him. He was frightened by the unnatural fog and just behind that thought was the knowledge that all of their parents had warned them to leave the Pools of Ar'Dynn alone. Had they known the fog was like this? Did their warnings prove it was more than his imagination? Was it really real?
The scream came again, followed by a low moan of anguish. From his proximity, Tad knew he was close— he barrelled straight for the noise. His eyes barely distinguished branches and bushes in the dim lantern light before he needed to avoid them.
With his eyes constantly forward as he crashed through the woods, Tad did not see the ground drop away before him. His lantern dropped, the candle flame extinguished as it fell. He slid down an embankment toward what could only be one of the pools below.
Monday, January 12, 2015
The Chronicles of Quat Short Story: The Courage of a Chandar
The Chronicles of Quat Short Story:
The Courage of a Chandar
by Bryen O'Riley
Chandoon
watched the Faellyn Isles grow smaller and smaller. His boat was
pointed south at a fast clip. Speed was perhaps the most important
aspect of a successful mission for him. In fact, it was always a
large part of any activity that must be completed when one's life was
ending before the mission had even begun.
He and the four other remaining Chandar had left a note, a fabrication, for the Fae and the Blanæuthra. It claimed that the Stone had warned them of the necessity of this suicide mission. It said that the Stone told of certain disaster if anyone else attempted to join them in the rescue of the Stone. It was all lies but the Chandar couldn't allow more people to die defending their homeland.
When the powerful men in blue robes came to their island to inhabit it, the Chandar hadn't dreamed they would be forced to master the skill of fighting and killing. The Chandar remembered when the Fae had first come to their island many, many years before. They thought the men in blue would be the same, a peaceful neighbor, but the Chandar couldn't have been more wrong. The Fae had been happy to train them, they needed an ally in their fight against the blue men, and the Chandar had learned. They had become fearsome warriors. They had given everything, their very existence, to their revenge.
Chandoon looked down at the last female Chandar, Nandeeroon, who sat slumped in the bow of the boat. She had agreed to their mission but was the most reluctant. Before leaving the island she had demanded that each of the males attempt to sire a child with her. Why, was a mystery to Chandoon. Not a single Chandar woman had become with child since leaving their island two years previously. The Fae Meddyg had studied the problem and found nothing wrong with the health of any Chandar, female or male. Even if she had become with child, what good would that do? If it were a boy, he would be without a wife and if it were a girl, there would be four men, each a possible father, to choose for a husband when she was of age in nearly two decades.
And then all the children had died. One by one, without getting sick or any other explanation. The entire nation of Chandar had mourned, and then they went to their island and slaughtered any man in blue that they saw.
But the blue men kept coming. There were more and more of them, a seemingly unceasing tide, moving onto their old island home. And they were powerful. For each single man killed, more than a dozen Chandar had to die. The toll was heavy and quickly felt. Two years and only five remained.
Chandoon thought Nandeeroon just wanted some hope, something to show that they could win; that they could continue. But they couldn't win. They had already lost. But they could help the Fae, and someday, he knew, the Fae would win. He had hope— it just wasn't hope for the Chandar.
There were several theories. The first was that being away from their island was killing them. They knew that they had a special connection to it and well-traveled Chandar had previously experienced sickness if they were away from the island for too long. That was probably true in the beginning and is probably what killed the children. But after a year or so on the Faellyn Islands the remaining Chandar did begin to develop an affinity toward the new island that was so very similar to theirs. But the women still couldn't conceive and some of the best warriors began to die like the children. Another theory developed, and as their boat approached their island Chandoon could feel its truth, that the blue men were corrupting their island and any Chandar who spent very much time there came to the same end as those who had died from being away from it.
But the change was much worse now. Chandoon hadn't been to the island in almost a year and he could feel the difference plainly. The natural order had been shifted, skewed. The blue men were rearranging the make-up of the island itself to suit their purposes and the nature that the Chandar had lovingly attended was off-kilter now. It was jarring to his very essence and from the sharp tensions in the boat he knew the others felt it too. They had known this was a suicide mission but now there could be no doubt. This return to their homeland would kill them. He just hoped it wouldn't kill them too quickly, there was work to be done.
Once
they landed they had to traverse their former home into the middle of
the island. It was easy for them, even in the dark, they knew their
island so well. Finally, they came upon the city the blue men were
beginning to build in the very center of the island.
The Chandar stole through the streets unnoticed in the dark.
The Fae had been happy to receive their help but reluctant to let the Chandar do very much. The Chandar didn't have special powers as the Fae and blue men did. They bled and died like anyone on the Continent would but they were fearless. That is what the Fae leader had said about them. Chandoon could feel his chest swell with pride remembering that moment.
But they were in the city now and he couldn't afford to be distracted. This final act was their only chance to thwart the blue men's plans and to thank the Fae for equipping and allowing them to seek their revenge on the parasites in blue.
The arrogant men in blue didn't even have a guard on their only finished structure of governance. The Fae's Stone had been located within this building by one of the Fae priests. They merely had to retrieve it and return it to the Fae before they all died.
The plan was simple and made simpler by the apparent lack of guards. Get into the building by any means possible. Get the Stone. Get out of the building by any means possible. Get the Stone to the Fae. Then, die.
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