Damien's Destiny comes out this week, and is the first of a series called Songs of the Mages. Four are now written, and I hope for eight. Naturally I'm thrilled and want to share. The trailer link is on myspace and just type in my name or Damien's Destiny.. Here's the opening chapter. Forgive me for being so blatant, but I've got my hands full with a sick husband and not much time for anything original.
Mage, synonyms from Webster’s Collegiate Thesaurus: Magician, charmer, conjurer, enchanter, magian, magus, necromancer, sorcerer, warlock, wizard.
Damien, the Earl of Sinclair, had always known he was a mage. A wizard, an enchanter when he chose. He’d never harbored a doubt. His parents had laughed and recognized him as his true father’s son when they found him chortling in his crib, re-arranging colors from the spectrum in the air. He still found it relaxing to form the colors of light into beautiful patterns. He enjoyed his sorcerer’s power, although he seldom resorted to magic. Never to black magic. He occasionally bewitched someone but only if necessary. Mostly his powers were not needed. A strong man in his own right, he relied heavily on himself. His father had been just as powerful. The blood of Merlin and the Lady of the Lake ran strongly through the veins of his ancestors and in him.
And he never forgot that with his powers came the obligation of deep rooted responsibility. In no way would he ever use his powers just to prove himself, or to harm anyone. His abilities were a blessing, a gift, and at times a curse. Sometimes he’d really rather not see the future.
Although even his powers didn’t make stones any softer. Maybe he should turn this one into a bale of cotton. Damien grinned as he shifted a little, trying to find an easier location on the hard rock he’d chosen to lean against. No matter, he sat in the shade and positioned so he could watch the ocean. The sound and the pattern of the ever-surging waves always fascinated him. Gulls swayed and swooped close to the rocky shore seeking a little nourishment, flying nearer to the water than the few lapwings overhead. His stallion, Araby, munched on some tufts of dried beach grass sticking up through the scree. A dragon fly flittered around his rump, and Araby flicked it away with his tail. Araby seemed contented here but his own hay might be tastier. Damien looked toward the horizon, where the sea met the sky and a small boat completed the perfect view. A beautiful day, and one likely to remain scorching hot.
Still, he’d better get Araby home to proper food and some true shade for them both.
Just as he rose to his feet, he noticed a girl walk into view from around the craggy prominence to the west. Her long skirts touched the sand as she hesitated at the shore line where the white-crested waves were crashing after each other. She came far too close to the water. Her slippers must be soaked.
Then she unexpectedly walked straight into the water.
Didn’t the little fool realize this beautiful stretch of beach could be treacherous? Maybe not since she’d invaded on his private property. His very private property.
She marched as if on parade, her chin high. Her long skirts were soon soaked and doubtless dragging on her. He jumped to his feet to run toward her, shouting as he ran.
“Turn back, miss. Turn back at once. This water is treacherous.”