Dennis McKiernan in his forward to Into the Fire says, “Throughout my lifetime various tales I’ve read are about people with special <powers> or abilities , or about people who believe they are ordinary, yet they are really sons or daughters of royalty…and are hidden away in some obscure place….

“These are not tales about common people thrust into uncommon situations and struggling to meet the challenge; instead they are about uncommon people with <powers> and heritages and abilities, and you know darn well they will meet the challenge and crush it. 

“This tale is about … two “common” Warrows caught up in events not of their doing. They are not hidden royalty, not mages, not folk with extraordinary abilities, extraordinary powers, extraordinary brains and wit; instead they are mere common soldiers, assuming of course there is such a thing … common people caught up in uncommon events struggling to soldier through.

“Oh, perhaps they do have an extraordinary thing going for them … and that is uncommon heart. …

“Yet is there such a thing as a common soldier?”

His goal is mine. To write about common people in uncommon situations. But with a twist. For the truth of the matter is, ordinary people have the opportunity to be princes and princesses. All of us who follow the King are His sons and daughters, made royalty with the Prince of Peace, seated on His throne beside him. We are each a chosen one. To succeed in the task before us, we need to remember who we are and where we are going, and discover what this actually means for our lives, the conflicts we face, internal and external, and the broader war. Knowing our identity does not just give a character depth, it reaches out to touch us. If we are separated from who we are, we essentially are rootless and purposeless.

Remember who you are. Remember Who your Father is. Remember the One Who chose you before the foundation of the world.

This remembering and the ways it drives our decisions and our fight, leads to deeper and higher discovery of who we are. In that sense, no one is common.

For the world and its conflicts to be fixed, it must be fixed at the level of the heart. The real story is at the heart level, because the heart level creates the details, and forms the moving pieces of the larger story in the wide war. Conflict starts and ends in the heart.

By heart I mean not feelings alone, but our minds where we think through things, our will where we decide on them, and the feelings that spring from good decisions or help drive them. All these make up a true heart in the middle of change.

When we became sons of the royal line, we were destined for a future and a home beyond our greatest dreams. Between us and home is a war. The battles and the fight are fierce. He transforms us, and gives us a new heart, and reminds us. Through the external conflict, by the internal struggle.

May we help others realize who they are, and who they may become. Give them that weapon of knowledge, give them roots and purpose as we fight in the broader war for goodness and holiness and truth. 

Remember.

Azalea
Crossover – Find the Eternal, the Adventure

But How to Save the West brought together the rumors, fears, and facts plaguing our society, and more than that – what we can do about it. 

It gave me a clear picture of how people in history faced the same issues (philosophers I should have read – I plan to remedy that,) and Spencer Klavan brings to bear what God says about our culture ills toward the end. At first I wasn’t sure what point the author was after, as he played Devil’s advocate at times. But he brought the truth together superbly well in a book it does not take more than a day to read.

I took two days, as I wanted to re-read some and digest it. I bought my own so I can read it again and make notes. I was curbing my itching fingers and my recurrent urge to mark the book!

In a nutshell it was truthful, clear, concise, enlightening, and very encouraging. It is so worth reading. You can get your book How to Save the West here if you are interested. It’s already got over 200 reviews, and it’s only $16.42 for a hardcover.

On a side note, as an author I need to study these things because reality and how I deal with it, the things I believe and put into action, deeply affect what I write. Will my stories portray despair or hope, truth or a muddled picture of reality through my characters’ thoughts and actions?
This book gave me clarity, determination, and great ideas to work with. I pray it does the same for you. 


Happy reading and have a great day,
Azalea
Crossover – Find the Eternal, the Adventure

On Mithgar, among the races of Elves, Trolls, Dwarves, Baeron, Men, Mages, Pysks, and Warrows, beliefs can be very different, or interestingly similar. It is what we would expect if there was one central truth they all [in every culture], consciously or unconsciously, saw with varying degrees of muddled sight.

But, some may say, aren’t we all muddled in our view of truth to some extent? Yes. Thankfully, our less than perfect perception does not negate the truth we do see. Far less him who is truth, the Creator of all, who brings us to ever clearer sight as we follow the light.

Though sometimes we try to create our own reality, our own truths, real truth constantly intrudes, disproving our false beliefs. Truth is absolutely real.

But, someone may say, everything we call reality is a figment of our imaginations. I would not agree, but I could respect such an honest person, if to prove their point they never ate again, since food is not real.

That is an example of the end result of that person’s thinking; truth has most uncomfortable ways of getting past our false fantasies.

People growing up around central beliefs in Mithgar, including truth, half-truth, and untruth, act on what they believe, and those actions spread through every area of life until they solidify into what we call culture. But culture is not truth, rather an amalgamation of beliefs, from true to false. Culture must be challenged and measured against truth, whether in Mithgar or our own world.

Before we are reconciled with our Creator and pass from spiritual death to life, at any point in our earthly life we are either acknowledging what we do see of truth, or going our own way. And until the fateful moment when all choice is gone, if we see bright glimmers of truth in the dark sea of partial truth and lies in our own culture, and struggle toward it, we are also testing the minds and hearts of others and what they call true. This does not end when we begin to live in our Creator’s love of truth. Our blade is merely honed and sharpened for a battlefield we see ever clearer.

Small people like Warrows who are drawn into battle in their culture contain just as great or withered a heart as those of larger stature. The degree of withering or greatness depends on the amount of truth each of them holds to, and whether they are seeking more truth or denying it. [Quote from Dennis McKiernan’s epic fantasy duology, Hel’s Crucible.]

‘Rael turned up a hand. “The pith of the debate was that Adon argued for the right of all peoples to freely choose the paths they would follow, whereas Gyphon spoke for the domination and control of those he named ‘inferior beings.’”

Beau now stood and stepped to a different portion of the tapestry and climbed upon a chair, and Tipperton said, “I take it then that these Black Mages side with Gyphon, for as you have said, they seek dominion, control, power over others.”

All the Lian nodded in agreement, and Loric said, “They have become allies of Gyphon, yet should Gyphon himself gain the upper hand, he will utterly dominate them as well, much to their everlasting sorrow, though they believe it not.”

Beau, standing on the seat, peered at the figure representing Gyphon. “Why, he isn’t a pure single color at all, but instead shimmers like oil on water.”

“Aye,” responded Talarin. “’Tis because he is the Great Deceiver, showing a given person or people whatever face need be until he has them in his grasp. Then and only then will his true nature show, and it is monstrous.”

Hurriedly, Beau drew back from the tapestry, clambering down and resuming his chair.

“And this Modru in Gron, the Black Mage fighting against High King Blaine, he’s been deceived by Gyphon?” asked Tip.’

–Into the Forge*  by Dennis McKiernan, pg. 105  

This fantasy duology has a couple mentions of immorality [without graphic description] and a mixed view of truth, which I’ve overlooked. [Because] This story has much to recommend it. We would be the poorer for not reading this tale.

In Mithgar, Gyphon and Modru’s deception led to worldwide war and the testing of many comrades in friendship and love and the crucible of life-and-death loyalty. And those decisions withered the heart or made it greater, truer than it had been before.

The testing of the Warrows’ beliefs lead to their greater knowledge, and to our own. Honest, logical questions about why we exist, even in fantasy, need answered. The next most important question is whether the knowledge we gain progresses to understanding—do we rightly act upon the knowledge we wrest from the war-ground of culture? Truth supersedes culture. Will we follow truth?

-Fantastic Journey: The Soul of Speculative Fiction and Fantasy Adventure, pg. 67

Until next time,

Azalea

Crossover – Find the Eternal, the Adventure

“I would learn the sword from you.” Seldon’s voice was stiff, young.

Stubborn whelp. The broom anchored Rolf’s trembling hands and gave space for his harsh breath. His spear had taken lives enough in defense of right; that did not pain him. But he went out that last morn in a hellish anger, to prove by burning cold murder that he could wield a blade as well as Dugar.

But Dugar was not here. His nemesis was. Rolf could hardly get the words out, every muscle drawn tight as a bow. “My weapons are laid down before our Lord on account of him.” Fixing his gaze on Seldon, who stood straighter, if that were possible, Rolf said sternly, “I will not wield steel or iron. So, what is it to be, whelp? Why have you truly come?” …

Lester cleared his throat. “We came fer’ yer skill in more than blades, Rolf, if ye truly wilna’ take yer own. We’re in sore need of ye, and that’s God’s truth. Seldon doesna’ replace ye as a ten, though his tongue does fly quicker than yers. You’ve led us through tryin’ times before.” He grinned briefly. “None of us can fill the hole ye left. Ye kept us together, despite yer ill sword work. Ye made us more than we thought, somehow. If ye go before us, we fight to good purpose. Others would ‘ave us split to the winds. Indeed, folk hereabouts is right distrustful. Though if ye ask me, they’d be better watchin’ them men of the bishop of Richmond’s. Sword or no, we would stay with ye.” His face wrinkled, and his brown eyes looked pained.

Rolf stared at him, heart thundering. “Tempt me not, as you love me. I cannot touch the iron and trust myself. As for coming here, better that Cierheld stronghold welcomes your strong hands and loyal hearts, even the whelp’s.”

Seldon stepped forward, close to Rolf as a breath. “I am no whelp! My name is Seldon. And your men,” he looked uncertainly at Kilden, “they deserve more.” He stared into Rolf’s eyes. “When you fought me, you had a fire within. A fire I would follow.”

Rolf stared back. “That man is dead, never to live more on this earth. It is well he died.”

Rolf felt his smile breaking before them all, sharp and jagged. I near murdered you, for jealousy of another. His squad would join Cierheld’s armsmen. It was the only way. There, Seldon would not trouble him. Cierheld had armsmasters in plenty to train the whelp. His defeat at the Wall at Rolf’s hands would fade from his mind, with any thoughts of revenge or evil purpose. Mayhap he would find a use for his voice. The squad would find useful employment. They would forgive him.

Seldon looked at him, incredulous. “You waste yourself on moldy books and passing out bread when you could be securing grain for many, defending their lives far better with steel? You cannot be the man we were told to find.” Seldon searched his face. “No. I will not believe we have come all this way for nothing!” – Falcon Dagger, pg. 27

Some of Rolf’s motives were apparent to me from the first: his desire to save the people of Britannia, his desire for his old squad to think well of him, and his overriding desire to keep his word not to bear metal arms and to remain at the abbey where he is safe from temptation. But it became clearer as I wrote that Rolf’s determination to rule himself and determine his destiny by himself alone held the seeds of his destruction.

To achieve his goal and find the meaning he sought, and the mastery of his life, he would have to let go. Seldon’s secret motive, one of the reasons Rolf suspects him of foul play, is revealed near the end. Built to a point of tension, of course, on the interplay of all the motives that come before. Other characters’ conflicting motives show themselves interspersed throughout. Many threads of motive, meaning, and mastery I had to go back and strengthen after the rough draft was complete. What I believe about motive, meaning, and mastery finds its way into my writing, as this quote above shows, and the below excerpt from Fantastic Journey describes.

“The will—how delicate and how tough—at times a desert flower in bloom or an unbreakable Damascus blade.

The will can transform from one into the other as needed, especially with training. For sometimes it is good to be a flower, yielding to another the sweet perfume of friendship or love. At other times any yielding is perilous, and we must hold our purpose as strong as steel.

The testing of our motive to do right, of our will and our spirit is the toughest training, a hard course in how to truly live. Such testing pushes us beyond the mere motions of living—which is the coward’s way—to living with vigorous purpose, in steady knowledge that what we do makes a difference.

Maybe that is another reason we love the adventure of voyaging in the fantasy realm. For the magic and mystery of discovery, where choices matter and we impact everything we touch….

For in fantasy the lie is not so often told that everything is relative, and so of no real effect.

In fantasyland things of no effect find it very hard to breathe, ephemeral as mist, while the ground of choice, watered by acts of will, produce all manner of living things that stretch our spirits toward understanding, knowledge, and power. In fantasy you can, in fact you will, save a kingdom or lose it by what you believe, which drives what you do. And when you return to our world, what you did there touches here, the sphere we breathe in. – Fantastic Journey, pg. 74.

Every character in your story, in my story, will master or be mastered by various things. Driven by motive, etched in mastery and defeat, the meaning of Rolf’s story remains to be seen.

If you have read Falcon Dagger, you can trace Rolf’s path to meaning. If you have not, you can presently find the book on Amazon.

But we cannot neglect my favorite scene in Falcon Dagger. This one I loved. If you haven’t read the rest of the series, you may not see all the threads gathered in this scene, from past and present conflicts across the series. Still, I think you will get a sense of the stakes for Celine, the rise of old troubles, the loyalty of fast friendships, the pain of sharp misunderstandings, and the courage to face the future together. That is why I love this scene.

Celine swallowed. She would be worthy to walk between two first daughters. Even Esther would have to admit she was strong, no matter that she no longer spoke to her, except with a look of indifference that could reach across a room like a slap. Now that it came to it, it was hard. But she must show her, and Berd, and Kyrin, show everyone that she was worthy. Celine looked Myrna in the eye. “Will you keep Kyrin’s back while I am gone?”

“What?” Myrna gripped her sewing hard. “Celine, what foolishness do you mean to get yourself into now?”

Celine’s shoulders drooped. “Berd thinks little enough of me, and so much of his swords.” The bitterness in her words surprised her. “He says I’m not as strong as he. So, I am going to find the sword.” She looked up. “I’ll find it first.”

Myrna’s brow furrowed. “But why? You need prove nothing to him.”

“I am strong. I will not be defenseless again. Ever.” Celine yanked a thread from the edge of her apron. From Esther to those at court, their enemies would also learn she was to be reckoned with. “I am not to be left in the shadows. I am not sorry I chose Kyrin’s company instead of Esther’s.” As Berd said, Kyrin was kind, kinder than she deserved. A true friend, and so strong herself, though forced to walk gently for a time.

“But you are strong,” Myrna protested. “With a staff you are the match of most men—”

“Not like Kyrin.”

“Well, no.” Myrna sat back. “Of course not. No one is equal to Kyrin. But she’s had more training.”

Celine smiled. “You are generous, Myrna, and I love you for it. You keep me from becoming as wolfish as Esther, I think.”

Myrna shrugged, and her face colored. “Well, I will do what I can for Kyrin, though there are others far more suited to defend this house. But what did Berd say that made you think he does not esteem you?”

 “He told me to use my head, and that Cieri has enemies, among other things.” Find your gifts, or finding the sword will destroy you.

Myrna swallowed. “He is right. Not about you; you most always use your head. But about our enemies.”

“Concerning them, Myrna, if any came for Kyrin, you would have an advantage. Your seeming frailty hides a will of steel. Rather like Kyrin’s falcon blade.”

“Go on, flatterer!” Myrna said with a smile and a shooing motion.

“I do not jest, Myrna, or not entirely.” Celine drew a breath. “I trust you. I do not trust Esther. Never again. And now that she is so much above me, she’s taken up with Thain Mornoth. We saw them at court, do you remember? He has a hard mouth, though his words can be sweet enough when he wishes. Mayhap they are alike in that. She suits him, I think.”

Myrna grimaced, then sighed. “I know. You may have a point. But I would not see you hurt again. And Berd? What else did he say?”

“He said we must all do what we can.”

“Oh, Celine—”

“He did not mean it ill, I think.” But he had meant she was not a worthy blade companion. That she could not forgive. Though now she felt a little ashamed. You mean Kyrin’s heir will need an armsman who knows what he is about? He had winced at her words.

“What do you mean, he did not mean it ill? When he knows what Esther did to you! What those men did to us? He ought to know how you would take it! Do what you can, my foot!” Myrna stood, her mouth a thin line. “You will find the sword first. We will count it a test of sorts. And he will learn our mettle.” She lifted her head, determined. “I know just the armsman who can help.” – Falcon Dagger, pg. 230

What is your favorite scene? Or if there’s anything else you’d like me to know about the book, please let us know in a review or a reply to my newsletter. Thank you!

And until next time, have a great week,

Azalea – Crossover – Find the Eternal, the Adventure

This is what I search for in fantasy, the beauty of good. I have found it in many great books. From Jonathan Renshaw’s Dawn of Wonder, to writers past and present, and my fellow authors in our Advance Review and Noblebright Collective, where we band together in different ways to bring you new releases throughout the year. From our Creator, and such a cloud of witnesses, the love of goodness flows into my own writing. In Falcon Dagger, the power of truth brings beauty to relationships. Every person who wrote a great book I have read has a part in what I write. How great a debt do we owe to the writers who came before us, and those who are our contemporaries? I think more than we know.

Here is a sneak snippet of Falcon Dagger on the philosophical side, a gem set amid the far-ranging adventure. It took me a fair bit of time to decide what to include – I didn’t want to give away big spoilers!

Rolf shook his head. His eyes stung. “Do you say my heart is not true to you and to my brothers? That I would not die for our Lord, for my oath?” His voice shook. He could not give in. It was all he had left.
“No. No, my son.” Alton laid down the blade on the desk behind him and gripped Rolf’s shoulders, his old hands strong. “I think no such thing.” His face creased in a smile. “It is because your heart yearns to be true, that I pray you may understand.
“I mean ‘the letter’ may reach to our sacraments, even to the ‘grace’ of salvation we thought we began to earn at our baptismal font. But his gift of faith, it appears to conquer everything. Our work cannot. I must search it out further. And so must you. His very Word,” he touched the Vulgate gently, “compels me. I think it likely nothing should be added to his grace, nor truly can be. We have deluded ourselves. We only ever earn ourselves death.” He paused. “Is he not sufficient? That is the question.” He stared at Rolf, burning with quiet fierceness. “Is his love not sufficient? The price he paid? How does any man dare think to add to God’s work on the tree? I dare not.”
Then he sighed. “Now the stakes are greater than you and I alone. Are we to let the innocent die, for lack of a warding hand? Do not let your oath drive you to evil. Will you strain out a gnat and swallow a camel?”
“No.”
He took up the sword and laid it in Rolf’s hands. “Our Lord said, ‘It is finished.’ We love because he loved us. You must go and do the same. Love with heart and head and hand.”
Rolf stared at the abbot, aghast, then at the weapon across his palms. He did not question God’s love or law, but his abbot’s fitness this moment, and his own weakness. Both weakness of the heart, and his hand that had barely begun to heal.
The abbot turned, muttering, “It matters less whether you bear a blade, and much more why you bear it, or do not.”
Rolf wondered at his abbot’s resolve. Nothing would surprise him after this. But was what he said true?
Alton’s voice was a rustling whisper. “Our righteousness is as filthy rags. That point we have got right in the church, though we negate it on the other hand so often. But his sufficiency we deny. Both salt water and fresh from the same spring, when it ought to be faith working by love.” His voice trailed away, and he shook his head suddenly and urged Rolf toward the door. “Come, my son, we will speak of this again, but you must go with all Godspeed. More lives than ours are at risk.” – Falcon Dagger pg. 142-143

I am thankful for all the men and women who have given me their words in stories that will never die, that live in my heart and inspire me to live true. They are a gift. That gift has led to this, the publication and release of the last book in the Falcon Chronicle January 18th.
Though a sad day in a way (I’m sorry to leave Kyrin and Cierheld) this leaves the road of the coming year open for new beginnings. I’ll update you about coming plans soon.

Until then,

Azalea Dabill

Crossover – Find the Eternal, the Adventure