Fantasy Romance
Lorik stared at the bottom of his third ale.
The memories still haunted him. He’d need something stronger tonight.
Before he could call over the barkeep, an old man and a hunchback stumbled into the bar.
A whisper of magic brushed over him. Strong magic.
Holy magic.
What in the seven hells were they doing here?
“At least I didn’t set Mom on fire.”
Dylan threw up his hands. “I was two years old! Nobody brings up the fact that you pooped on Mom when you were two.”
“Did not. And you were three when you set her on fire.”
“Two, three, whatever. It’s not like I had control of the magic. Not like I meant to do it.”
Lucas inspected the joints on his armor. “Doesn’t matter. You still set her on fire.”
“And I’ve tried to make-up for it every mother’s day since. But no matter what I do, Dad still gives me this look like, ‘That’s it? That’s all you could get your mother after setting her on fire?’ I could magic her up a solid diamond horse and carriage, a fleet of solid diamond horse and carriages, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“A diamond horse and carriage wouldn’t move very fast.”
Dylan glared at his brother. “What about the time I tracked down three golden unicorns, captured them, brought them back here and taught them to dance for Mom. Dad still gave me the look because it wasn’t all five. But the other two were so freaking fast.”
“Should move faster.”
“You fast enough to outrun a fireball?” A glowing sphere of flame appeared in Dylan’s hand.
Lucas grinned. “What are you going to get me for my birthday if you set me on fire? The last two golden unicorns?”
“Go to the seventh hell.”
“Speaking of the hells, Dad must like you at least a little. He allowed an Oskelesian mage into Tamryn just to teach you to control your magic.”
“An Oskelesian mage that Sir Marcus, slayer of liches and all around hero, married. You may be a prince, but Sir Marcus would still kick your ass if he heard you say anything bad about her.”
Lucas crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow.
“By Dracor’s left fang, you were engaged to their daughter. How bad can her mother be, Oskelesian or not?”
“You had to bring that up.”
“You were engaged last month. On purpose. I accidentally burned Mom over twenty years ago.”
Lucas strapped on his sword. “But Mom didn’t bargain her life to save Tamryn.”
“Not that we know of, anyway.” Dylan snorted. “Shouldn’t you go slay the dragon or something and bring your betrothed back?”
Lucas’s jaw twitched. “She made the bargain voluntarily, and he lived up to his half.”
“Hasn’t stopped other men.”
“I’m bound by the code of Dracor and the Dragon Church.”
“Sounds like an excuse to me.” Dylan leaned against the door frame.
“Then why don’t you go slay the dragon? Oh wait, if you’re not fast enough to catch the last two golden unicorns, you wouldn’t stand a chance against a dragon.”
“Who says I’d want to? Though better a dragon than Mom and Dad marrying me off. At least that’s a fast death.”
“If you want a fast death, piss Dad off again.” Lucas hefted his shield engraved with the twin dragon crest of the royal family. “Speaking of Dad, we have three minutes until we’re late.”
Both princes bolted down the hall toward the throne room.
Andromeda kicked the dirt and crossed her arms over her thin chest.
It wasn’t fair.
She was bored and lonely. A dog would fix both.
Of course her grandmother didn’t want her to have one. She never wanted Andromeda to have anything nice. Laverra was still mad Andromeda had survived being born and angrier yet Andromeda’s father protected his daughter.
Andromeda glanced back at the upper windows of the gothic manor house looming behind her. It blocked out the faint trickle of sunlight that escaped the overcast sky and shrouded the grounds in gloom. The wards around the compound protected Andromeda from the outside evil, but they did nothing to protect her from what was inside.
She’d seen only six summers, but she already knew one day soon she’d have to protect herself.
Another reason for her to have a dog.
Her grandmother would be resting now, preferring to sleep during the day when her magic was weakest.
Andromeda snorted. Magic didn’t care if it was day or night, but her grandmother’s magic was fading. Laverra had deviated too far from Uzakiel’s path, and Rashalee had snared her in a web of lies, greed, and envy. The old woman would soon need a powerful blood sacrifice to appease Uzakiel.
She’d go after Andromeda’s father.
Andromeda wouldn’t let that happen, nor would her dog once she got one. Her father was the only one ever kind to her even if his studies absorbed so much of his time that he didn’t notice her most days.
She kicked the dirt again.
One of the human guards spotted her and hurried away, pretending he hadn’t noticed her.
Andromeda was used to it. She’d always been an ugly child with her too-big blue eyes and golden ringlets. But her father loved her, and people were nice to her because they didn’t want to anger Lord Wrakar.
One day, they’d be nice to her because they didn’t want to anger her.
The thought cheered her as she skipped down to the crypts. Dysentery had killed two human servants earlier in the week, and her father’s apprentices had laid out the bodies in the prepatory chambers with the flesh-eating beetles. Her father had no work for zombies at the moment, and after another week or so, one of her father’s apprentices would raise them for kitchen duties.
Fresh skeletons made the best house staff, and the apprentices needed the practice.
Andromeda liked the skeleton staff better than the human one. The skeletons never called her ugly, her father awful, or her dead mother stupid. And they always did what she told them.
Her grandmother wished Andromeda would be as well-behaved as the skeletons. Laverra could keep wishing.
Sitting on the edge of the mausoleum, Andromeda swung her legs. The crypts were quiet, like they always were. Like the manor house was. And the courtyards. And the workrooms.
She blew a golden curl from her eyes. Sometimes, she wished people would laugh. Smile. Even yelling would be better than the constant silence.
She wanted a dog. Needed it.
The crypts were situated in the most ancient parts of the family compound, and their family was one of the oldest in Oskelez. Andromeda wondered how old the bones moldering in the crypt were.
A smile teased over her lips as she thought of a way to ease her boredom.
Magic filled her, and she sunk it into the ground. It filtered over the bones of servants, then past the dust of her ancestors. Their presence intensified her own magic, and she giggled as a surge of power washed through her.
Harnessing it, Andromeda pushed the magic deeper. Burial sites from long forgotten wars lay further beneath the crypt. Deeper yet were the bones of peasants from a failed uprising.
Sweat beaded on Andromeda’s brow as she gathered the power of the dead to her, bolstering her magic and delving deeper.
Past the bones of noble knights and valiant priests who served gods she didn’t know. Deeper yet to the dust of slaves who’d built Oskelez and the bones of their masters.
The masters.
What is the seven hells were these creatures?
Things of nightmare. Things of…
Wait. Were those the bones of a dog?
A smile lit Andromeda’s face as she ripped the magic from the ancient dead surrounding the dog and funneled it into the beast.
Sweat trickled down her cheek as the dead fought her, resisted her.
She balled her tiny fists and locked her jaw. She was a necromancer of clan Xyrenia.
The. Dead. Would. Obey!
She tore the magic from them and slammed it into the dog. Her dog.
The ground beneath the crypt shook, the dry earth cracking and tearing as a howl ripped through the silent afternoon and echoed off the magic wards.
Bone paws the size of caldrons punched through the ground, followed by two large heads and a massive body. The creature of nightmare stood taller than a man, and it tossed back both heads and howled.
Red pinpricks flickered in its eye sockets as it turned toward Andromeda.
She crossed her arms and waited.
The abomination studied her then lowered both of its heads to the ground at her feet.
Andromeda clapped her hands together in delight.
“I’ll name you Orthul, and we’re going to be the best of friends.”
She skipped back to the house, her new companion at her heels.
If you liked this story, you might like to check out a free copy of my debut novel, To Love a Prince.
Book: Promise of Fire
Author: Amanda Bouchet
Recommendation: Buy this book when you have time to read it in one sitting.
You know I don’t always give glowing reviews, so when I do, the book deserves it.
I will start out with I was a little turned off that the author wrote in first person present tense. It’s jarring, but after the first few pages, I didn’t care.
This is also a trilogy. I didn’t read the first book until the whole set was out.
KINGDOMS WILL RISE AND FALL FOR HER…
BUT NOT IF SHE CAN HELP IT
Catalia “Cat” Fisa lives disguised as a soothsayer in a traveling circus. She is perfectly content avoiding the danger and destiny the Gods-and her homicidal mother-have saddled her with. That is, until Griffin, an ambitious warlord from the magic-deprived south, fixes her with his steely gaze and upsets her illusion of safety forever.
Griffin knows Cat is the Kingmaker, the woman who divines the truth through lies. He wants her as a powerful weapon for his newly conquered realm-until he realizes he wants her for much more than her magic. Cat fights him at every turn, but Griffin’s fairness, loyalty, and smoldering advances make him increasingly hard to resist and leave her wondering if life really does have to be short, and lived alone.
Cat, the main character, makes the story. She’s strong yet vulnerable in all the right ways. Looking for family. Looking for happiness, and not sure she can have either after a horrible childhood. Her camaraderie with the other characters really shines through as the story progresses.
The hero, Griffin, is a lot more your generic alpha male lead, but the story isn’t about him. We always see him through Cat’s eyes, so I think that makes it much tougher to develop him. This doesn’t mean he’s cardboard flat, he’s just not as awesome as Cat.
As this is a trilogy, I have a feeling the plot will get more developed in the next books. At the moment, the plot was simply for Griffin to round up some Magoi to help him and his family that have recently staged a coup and taken the throne from a tyrant. They’re now trying to figure out how to lead a nation after leading warrior tribes.
This is pretty spectacular. The world is based on the Greek mythology. Basically, Zeus makes the world for one of his children. That child is then murdered by his three children, and the world is divided into three kingdoms.
You have the traditional pantheon of the gods, Zeus, Poseidon, Hades etc. and a few more interesting characters. Magic has a huge role in the world, with the magic and the magic users being strongest in the frozen north, closest to Mt. Olympus.
All in, this book was so good that once I started it, I got yelled at by my family to put it down because I had tuned all of them out as I read. I also found the characters doing cartwheels through my own thoughts and making it difficult for me to write my own stuff. That’s a good book.
We train them, we fear them, and we mother them. Dragons have captured our imaginations.
We all know the real reasons we all love Daenerys Targaryen: Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion.
So why do we love dragons so much? Here are six reasons.
Yes, you get to ride them. They might be as large as a house or the size of a mountain. Doesn’t matter. I can’t think of a cooler ride.
Dragons are frequently depicted as strong and powerful, much like the alpha male trope, just scalier. If you’re writing a D&D adventure, the dragon is always the final encounter. If you’re playing a video game, the dragon is that unbeatable end boss that an NPC can call a false deity with a straight face.
A dragon promises an epic story. Little things like armies do not slow them. They are the ultimate ally or the greatest foe. You can’t introduce a dragon into a story in a small way. There is nothing mightier than being the Dragonborn, or the Mother of Dragons, or the Dragon Rider.
Whether casting spells, deflecting them, or breathing fire, dragons are inherently creatures of magic. This feeds back into the power of point 2 above, but it’s more than that. There is nothing mundane or boring about a dragon.
Dragons play by their own rules. They are going to achieve their ends, even if it means centuries of manipulation. They are not bound by the concepts of good and evil as mere mortals are.
They may be an ancient force for good or for evil, but they usually possess an ancient wisdom and mysticism. Not much more romantic than that.
What do you think? Do you love dragons? Why or why not? What are some of your favorite ones?
“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
― Arthur C. Clarke
Fantasy and science fiction share some elements, particularly the need to build a world for a reader. One thing that’s true for either genre, though, is that you can have so many things be true for the world depending on the level of technology.
Transporters = Teleportation Spell
Faster than light space travel = Cosmic ships following the time flow
Blasters = Wands
Seriously, if you told my great-grandmother about smartphones, netflix, and the internet, she’d have looked at you like you were crazy. Even my grandmother hasn’t gotten past basic television.
I can see how technology can very easily appear magical. As a reader, I am absolutely willing to suspend disbelief when I pick up either genre of books.
I will caveat this with some science fiction gives little lee-way for made-up science. One particular author I read years ago refused to use faster-than-light travel as it didn’t conform to what we know about space travel. Interestingly, however, the same author had cryogenics in the story to compensate for the long flight times to Jupiter where they were going to terraform moons.
Neither cryogenics or terraforming are exactly proven science, but it was a still a good story.
For me, that’s what it’s about. A good story. I want to read something and be immersed in it. I want to care about the characters and what they’re doing.
Start bogging me down in too much scientific detail or the minutia of your magic system, and I start skimming. If I can’t find the good bits again pretty quickly, I move on to the next book.
Both genres also have to be careful how they handle gender differences. I have seen too much misogyny masked in, “But that’s how it was.”
In some cases, it could be an accurate portrayal if medieval Europe, though frequently it isn’t. But here’s the thing, this is a fantasy world. The religion. The norms and mores. You can choose a Judaeo-christian society, just as you can choose to create one like the Mosuo.
Still, it’s interesting how certain themes come through both science fiction and fantasy.
It’s fun to explore the impossible, and both genres do that. I enjoy reading both. Of course, there is that one thing I see in fantasy that science fiction has yet to tackle: dragons!
You knew I was going to say that, didn’t you?
How about you? Do you see magic and technology as interchangeable? Perhaps indistinguishable? Why or why not?