R.E. Sheahan's Blog

Is there such a thing as a 'good' rejection letter? Well, no. They always cause your heart to drop and self doubts about your writing to rear up, at least for me. But how many times have you received no response, or a form letter with the phrase "Not a good fit for us right now."? Pretty much sums it up.
Yesterday I got a rejection letter from a publisher, and yes I was disappointed. But it was a 'good' rejection.
How can this be good you ask?
They read what I sent them, the synopsis and first three chapters. They told me what they liked, what they didn't like and offered suggestions.
Wow!
Maybe this has happened for you, but never for me.
So even though my hopes were dashed once again, and that little spark diminished, I appreciate the time and effort on the publisher's part.
It meant a lot.
The following is my first 'good' rejection.

Robynn,
Thank you for your patience while we deliberated long and hard about Storm of Arranon. I really enjoyed the world-building, the invented language, and especially the character of Erynn Yager (great name for a pilot). She’s strong, interesting, and likeable. But, with regret, I’m afraid we're going to decline this series. Ultimately it comes down to the unfortunate fact that we receive more good manuscripts than we have the time and staff to publish.
I can at least offer one small suggestion. The action grabbed me right away in the opening chapters of both books: the murder in book one and the well-described act of possession in book two. In fact, the action was so engaging in these scenes that I felt the brief snippets of exposition were a bit of a distraction. I wonder if some of these plot points could me moved later, so as to keep the reader “in the moment.” For example, in book one:

Birk’s smile widened and his stomach churned with an anticipation of pleasure. By tomorrow morning, General Cale Athru of Arranon would be dead and the invasion of this world, Korin, will have begun. The abundant resources of Korin and Arranon would soon be unprotected and accessible.
I was so caught up in the action and Birk’s response to the kill he had just made that this brief, sudden shift to “tomorrow morning” and the mention of person we hadn’t met yet felt like an interruption. Better, I think, to go directly from the smile and Birk’s stomach churning with pleasure to “Rennek’s body toppled to the left.” The plot points about the General can be worked in later—perhaps even not all that much later. A few paragraphs down, Birk’s henchman appears and their conversation includes this sentence:
“Starting tomorrow there’ll be no need for disguises, for a tactful approach. If we have questions, we’ll get answers.”
The words “starting tomorrow” provide a nice segue. You could fit the exposition about “By tomorrow morning, General Cale...” right there after Birk’s spoken line.
I had a similar thought about some of the set-up details in the first chapter of book two. The whole process of the possession, and the host’s body struggling against it, was so fascinating that I wanted to keep focusing on that as a reader. Some of the information about Dhoran’s past (and his true shape) and the politics with Tourani’s daughter felt like it could be worked in later in the chapter, or perhaps even a later chapter. It felt like a bit too much at once, before I’d gotten my bearings as a reader. Having Dhoran possess someone and then be staking the corridors for an unknown yet clearly menacing purpose—that might be enough for an opening “tease.” That’s what really hooked me about this chapter.
The fast pace and the point of view of Erynn in the second chapters of both books are both excellent and reminded me a bit of Poul Anderson’s Orion Shall Rise. You may want to check out SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators) if you’re not already a member. They have annual conferences with opportunities to pitch YA books to editors and agents. You definitely have a sympathetic and likeable main character.
I'm sorry I can't offer you better news, but I hope those suggestions are helpful and hope you find a good home for this novel. We'd be glad to look at any future manuscripts you care to send our way.
Eric Pinder
Evolved Publishing

Death’s black cape billowed.
A thick blanket of darkness folded over the surreal scene.
Jaer knew Death would claim him one day. A final battle fought with courage and honor against a deserving enemy. But there had been no warning to this assault—and no fight. The tactical approach of a coward.
The cloaked adversary waited, hidden in a crevice of the tunnel’s rock wall. He delivered a single lightning-quick strike, and then disappeared swiftly into the gloom.
Jaer had registered the flash of a blade in the muted-yellow light a fraction too late. He reeled back in shock and disbelief, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain. His mind screamed for his body to respond, to pursue and destroy the unknown assailant. Instead he crumpled to the cold stone floor. Anger surged. His vision cleared. He raised his head to survey the immediate area. A dark pool spread in an increasing expanse beneath him. Deep shadows swooped over Jaer, stealing his sight, but not before he knew he was alone in the dim corridor. His head dropped back to the hard stone, and his thoughts drained from him like the blood from the wound in his chest. Frosty numbness spread from the tips of his fingers, up his arms and legs, and into his core. Memories of his life swirled through his mind, and he struggled to pull his consciousness back to the present.
An ambush. Who would dare? Am I not Fayn of the Anbas Warriors. How is it my attacker does not lay dead beside me?
Jaer winced at the piercing burn in his lungs and coughed. “I . . . failed to . . . protect myself.” The words were a muted whisper slipping between trembling lips. Warm blood dribbled down the neatly trimmed hair of his beard. His fingers twitched, then lifted. He didn’t have the strength to raise his arm and wipe at his chin. Jaer’s hand stilled and he fought the urge to cough.
His battle was now with Death itself.
And Death meant to win.
***
Captain Erynn Yager turned from the setting sun dipping below the snow-covered scramble pad. She stepped into the massive hangar through one of the open bay doors. An excruciating pain tore into her ribs, and struck a deep sharp blow just below her solar plexus, seizing the breath from her lungs. She staggered and clutched at the thick flight coat over her chest. Her vision dimmed. Heat drained from her body. Her cheeks grew icy and a cold sweat enveloped her.
I’ve . . . been shot?
Erynn unclenched her fist and drew a shaking hand forward, believing her fingertips would be smeared with warm blood, the white of her coat blossoming red. The scent of this life-giving force, coppery and sharp, filled her nostrils.
But there was no blood.
Not here. Not on me.
In fact, any pain she had experienced was gone, leaving behind only a fading sensation of the burning, tearing ache that had stabbed into her.
Stabbed?
***
Jaer groaned and a shallow breath shuddered into his chest with a slow rattle. He no longer felt connected to the floor beneath him. “Just . . . let . . . go.” He exhaled, believing he had taken his last breath.
No! I will not die. Not like this. I cannot leave . . . her. I have . . . I have found . . . what? Who? I do not fear Death.
A fierce love wrapped around him. Jaer’s heart warmed with this sudden crash of intense emotion, tethering him to life. He settled back to the cold hard stone, and labored to pull in a breath so thin it scarcely raised his chest.
Who can I not leave? Whose love is so powerful it holds my spirit in this body?
A brilliant white beam of light opened before him. There was no pain, no cold, nothing. Only that vague sensation of floating again.
Ah. Here it is. I am ready. I will join my ancestors.
***
Whill, the transport bay chief, appeared in Erynn’s peripheral vision, and stopped next to her. “Captain, I have those coordinates . . . Captain? Are you all right?” He quickly faced Erynn, and his gray eyes widened in alarm. “Erynn! What’s wrong? What’s happened? You’re as white as new snow.” Whill reached out to steady her with one hand while tapping the COM behind his ear with the other. “General, get down here! I’m in the hangar bay. It’s Erynn.” His long gray hair fanned over his shoulders as he swung his head right, left, and then back to Erynn. “Yes, General. The area is secure, and I’m not leaving her.”
Is there blood after all? Is he searching for an assailant? I wasn’t attacked. It was something else—no, not something—someone?
Erynn wiped sweat from her face, her hand steadying, and shook her head. “Please don’t call Cale. I don’t want him to worry.” She took in a deep breath and straightened. “Really. I’m fine, Whill. Just umm . . . it was just—” She frowned.
Just what? Another vision? Or a prophecy? Is this happening now, or will it happen in the near future? Knowing could mean the difference between life and death for . . . for—who? I need to think.
“Let’s let the General decide if he should be worried or not.” Whill placed strength behind the words, but his tone wavered with concern.
Whill’s strong emotions flowed over Erynn, interrupting her thoughts as she tried to concentrate. She sensed Cale’s approach. His apprehension surged ahead of him like a giant wave, crashing down on her. Cale’s anxiety united with Whill’s in a barrage against Erynn’s attempt to focus.
With Cale nearly here, Jaer must have been informed and was rushing to the hangar bay. Together they would sort out this strangely vivid vision.
***
An apparition shimmering with a bright blue radiance walked toward Jaer from the far end of the blinding tunnel of light. Long brown hair cascaded over his shoulder as he knelt down on one knee. “It’s not your time yet, Jaer. You have more to do. Both of you have more to accomplish before Arranon is finally safe.” He glanced at Jaer’s wound, and his shining face darkened with concern. “A poisoned blade,” he whispered, and pressed his ethereal hand over the deep puncture. “There is only so much I can do. This time, she must save you.”
Jaer felt the pressure of the spectral being’s touch. More warmth flowed into him, chasing the numbness from his body. “The light . . . so beautiful . . . warm . . . I will go.”
The spirit smiled. Sympathy in his brown eyes shone through a profound sadness. “She is your light, and your warmth, Jaer. And you are hers.” His visage faded.
“Wait. Who is she? Who are you?” Jaer whispered, his voice less substantial than the ghostly specter.
Words drifted from out of the dark. “I am Zander, her father.”
The blinding light faded and the dim corridor came into focus around Jaer.
Death’s black cloak whipped and snapped in an angry retreat.
***
Erynn’s heart hammered in her chest.
I sense Cale presence, but not Jaer’s. Where is Jaer? Where is he?
Her knees again threatened to buckle under her weight. Her heart, her soul, her life—Jaer. The pain she’d felt was his. The attack had happened to him.
Who would dare attack Jaer, Fayn of the Anbas? Dhoran would.
Dhoran, with a parent from each realm—the surface and the underworld—possessed great power, and an obsession to rule all of Arranon.
This must be his doing. But Dhoran is locked in a heavily guarded cell, and kept in a drug induced coma. Then someone—or something—else has acted against Jaer on Dhoran’s behalf. Could Dhoran have followers here on the base?
Erynn stiffened, eyes narrowing, her hands curling into tight fists. Heat fueled by rage flared into a fire that melted the cold encasing her. She turned and pulled from Whill’s grasp.
General Cale Athru, the base commander, rushed from the outer corridor and through the main access. Long coppery-brown hair heavily streaked with gray swung with each jarring step, the colors a vivid contrast to his white flightsuit.
Whill touched Erynn’s arm. “Wait. Cale’s here, Erynn. Just . . . wait.”
Erynn watched Cale’s approach, wanting to run toward him, away from the hangar bay, out into the heart of the base and begin the search for Jaer. Her calmer, more logical side prevailed. She locked eyes with Cale as he stopped in front of her. Her voice relayed the urgency ready to explode from deep inside her. “We have to find Jaer. Right now! He’s been attacked—stabbed!”
A few weeks ago, Shifters had begun stealing onto the base, carrying out random attacks on personnel on Dhoran’s—their master’s command. Erynn had foreseen these attacks in visions, alerting Jaer and Cale, preventing the Shifters from inflicting more harm.
Cale tapped behind his ear, his expression tense, deepening the lines around his eyes. “Aven, alert the Anbas and Security. Begin a search through every tunnel, every warren, all quarters and holds.” He was silent a moment, listening, his lips drawing into a thin line. His answer to Aven’s unheard question came out in a low growl. “Your brother.”
***
Erynn hurried down steep steps into long, dim corridors. Concern and mounting dread threatened to consume her. But this rush of feelings wasn’t originating from her own anxiety. They came from the security team following her and Cale. Erynn reduced her exposure, her empathic ability to these sensations by visualizing a broad beam of light, spiraling into a pinpoint. As always, this technique reduced the flood of emotions from others that often bombarded her. She spared a glance at Cale, the man running beside her. She sensed nothing under his tight expression—he kept his mind clear—concentrating on finding Jaer.
Cale had taken Erynn in after the murder of her much-loved adoptive father by alien invaders. Even after the invasion ended with the alien enemy defeated, Erynn chose to remain on Arranon instead of returning to her home world of Korin. There was little there for her with her father gone. Cale provided a home—a sense of family, of belonging, and an acceptance she had never before experienced. Jaer was here. She belonged on Arranon now.
Erynn believed she knew where to find Jaer—alive. Level ten—the deepest site on the base. Cale was unable to contact the guards stationed there—another reason to suspect that was Jaer’s location.
An alcove on level ten had held a magical hidden opening that led into the underworld. Because of Erynn’s time spent in this domain, only she could see this doorway and perceive the realm beyond. Mere days ago, she’d discovered the passage to find Cace, a boy taken as a hostage to this realm by the Shifters in an attempt to draw Erynn to them. Erynn had accepted the challenge, taking on this rescue mission alone. She’d hidden, watching, helpless as several Shifters taunted and tortured Cace. By using her unique connection to the heart of the living Arranon, Erynn managed to get Cace away from his captors and back to the alcove. There, with help, she’d protected a badly injured Cace, fighting off what seemed an unending stream of furious Shifters pouring through the access from their world and into hers. When additional assistance finally arrived to drive the Shifters back, Erynn’s energy was nearly depleted. She and Cace were taken to the Medical Unit and placed under the care of the unit’s skilled technicians.
Cale had ordered the doorway sealed. Did the Shifters re-open the passage? Is that what has happened to Jaer? Shifters?
Erynn shuddered, her step faltering. Shifters—tall and thin, but incredibly strong, with razor teeth and black oily skin, their foul breath tainted by the raw putrid flesh they ate.
Cale shook his head and whispered, “It can’t be Shifters, not from the alcove anyway. We would have known if they were attempting to re-open the passage.”
Erynn and Cale shared a special connection—a link that made it possible for them to understand each other’s thoughts. They shared this link with two others on the base, brothers Tiar and Sean.
The reason for this connection between them—their forbidden births. They each had one parent from the two worlds of Korin and Arranon. In Erynn’s case, her mother was from Korin, and Zander—her biological father was from Arranon.
Generations ago, the governments of each planet banned relationships between the people of Korin and the people of Arranon. They claimed the children of this mixed parentage were born with hideous defects, and always died. This cruel lie of infant deformities and mortality created tension, a separation of the two worlds. The intent was to stop further births, and not for altruistic reason, but because these children exhibited remarkable abilities. Abilities the governments believed could have made these extraordinary individuals masters of their worlds.
Cale held his hand up and stopped, slowing their headlong rush from the last landing before the alcove. His tone remained quiet, hardly a whisper. “I don’t sense Jaer’s presence, Erynn. There are guards stationed here at all times. They would have warned—”
“Maybe they weren’t able to.” Erynn’s attention snapped to Cale, her voice low and uneven with worry. “Why don’t they answer the COM? Why didn’t they respond to the base-wide alert?”
Muted light from the niche crept only as far as the lowest step. An ominous silence drifted up from the shadows.
Cale pressed his back against the stone wall at the third step from the bottom. He glanced back and nodded at the six-security team members clustered on the landing, weapons drawn, lining up behind Erynn.
Cale stepped cautiously to the bottom step, his staser raised, and peered around the corner. He relaxed his shooting stance and entered the alcove.
Erynn followed. There were no Shifters escaping through a mysterious cleft in the rock, no Jaer laying crumpled and bleeding on the cold stone floor. Nothing but the two guards stationed there.
“Why didn’t you respond to the alert?” Cale’s roaring voice echoed in the small alcove.
The guards glanced at each other. “General. Sir. There was no alert, no communication of any kind since we came on duty.”
Cale tapped behind his ear. “Dispatch, COM check. I repeat, COM check. Hangar Control, do you copy? Transport bay. Do. You. Copy.” He waited a heartbeat. “Nothing,” he growled. Cale turned to the security team leader. “Send someone to communications control. Try to find out what is wrong.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, sir.” She wheeled on a young man and ordered, “Stanik, go!”
Stanik was up the stairs and around the landing before she finished the order.
Erynn raked curls from her forehead with a shaking hand. “This is taking too long. The base is too large, and without reliable communication . . . we’re wasting time. We have to find Jaer before—”
“Then think, Erynn,” Cale demanded. “Use the same connection with Jaer that showed you his attack. That’s the only way we’ll find him in time.”
She needed to embrace her abilities—and find Jaer. Erynn closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath. The air around her buzzed with prickling electricity. Static crackled inside Erynn’s chest, running down her arms to her hands, building, ready to explode from her fingertips in a churning mass of snapping, popping currents of pure energy.
Breath rushed from Erynn’s lungs. “Level four, behind the dining hall.” Her eyes opened and as one, the group hurried back up the steps.
Cale got through to Aven on the COM when they passed level six. Aven was on level two and would reach Jaer in moments.

***
Distant shouts echoed down the murky corridor. Hurried boot steps reverberated on stone. Hands fumbled over Jaer, opening his jacket to reveal the extent of his injury. The pressure and warmth of Zander’s touch remained.
“Jaer! Can you hear me? Jaer! You’re going to be alright. You have to stay with me!” The strident demand filtered down to Jaer as if from a great height.
Aven. My little brother. I recognize his voice, but it is different. The timbre of a man, not a boy. Why is he here? Where is here? Think. You know these answers.
Jaer’s thoughts became difficult to keep in order. Memories as a young boy mingled with his Anbas training.
I am an Anbas Warrior.
A sense of pride at this accomplishment rushed through him. Being an Anbas Warrior was all he ever wanted, all he needed.
An image formed in his mind—a young woman with long curly red hair, a fair complexion, and startling ice blue eyes. His heart ached at the sight of her. She smiled and the darkness surrounding him was eclipsed with a brilliant light. The vision vanished with Jaer’s tumbling thoughts. Wings of unconsciousness spirited him away, and Jaer forgot . . .
Everything.

I know, it's Thursday. But I've had no internet, or phone, for two days!

In the last back story excerpt, Cale had a family, a wife and daughter. In the current Storm of Arranon series, Cale has no real family. He considers Erynn, Sean, and Tiar his extended family. But this is back story, ideas, plots, and scenes that didn’t make it into the final draft.

Amara stood at a short, clean white counter, a shattered dish at her feet. Worry sharpened the creases around her narrowed green eyes as she glared at the open cupboard.
Cale slipped his arms around her slim waist, buried his nose in her shiny silver hair, and inhaled her sweet scent. “What’s wrong?” he whispered into her ear.
Turning in his grasp, Amara threw her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. “I miss you already,” she whispered, her soft voice further muffled by the thick flight suit.
Cale leaned back, cupping her cherished face in his hands. She gazed up at him, and for a moment, the anxiety was gone from her expression. His breath caught just as it had the first time he saw her.
So beautiful.
He smoothed her soft hair with his fingertips, and smiled.
Amara’s light green eyes glistened, and her brow furrowed. “Promise me you’ll be careful, that you’ll come back to me.” Apprehension returned, descending like clouds pressed from a storm, masking her light.
His voice came out low, husky. “I’ll be back. I always come back.”
***
A young man hurried to catch Cale as he strode through the hangar bay. Heavy boots and a thick jumpsuit made the man’s tall form appear awkward and lumbering as he approached. “General Athru, your ship is ready on the pad.”
Cale slowed. “Was my request approved?”
“We received confirmation from Korin this morning, General. You’re to meet with Captain Erynn Yager tomorrow, fifteen hundred Korin time. Your conference with Commanding General Damon Yager will be scheduled after you arrive.”
Cale smiled and nodded.
Good, I’ll soon know about Erynn Yager, and if she is like me—special.
“Thank you, Stanik.”
The young man stopped, his attention drawn to a technician refitting a fighter with a new strut support. “No, adjust the tension before you set the pressure.” His voice drifted away as he hurried over to point out the tech’s error.
A cold wind whistled through the one open hangar door, the sun’s intensity doing little to warm the chilling gusts.
Cale stepped from the cavernous bay to the open, windswept landing pad nature had carved out of the gray granite mountainside. Air, biting and sharp, greeted him. It mingled with the sweet, spicy scent of the expansive forest. Brilliant sunshine from a clear blue sky reflected off a fresh dusting of snow. He gazed out over the majestic beauty of the gentle inclines below the niche, squinting against the glare.
Cale turned from the view and performed a quick external examination of the small, angular craft, his helmet dangling by a strap held in a gloved hand. Inside, he began the familiar pre-flight inspection. The wind buffeted the ship. Gusts swirled, changing directions after slamming against the cliff face.
The changes he’d noticed, sensed, coming from Arranon and Korin were more serious than variations in the weather, or the season. New faces filled positions of power, including posts advising top authority figures.
Not as many on Arranon. Korin seems to be the focal point of this influx.
Arranon warned him of a very real threat. Nightmares troubled his sleep. In the dreams, forests burned. Smoke covered immense areas pushed by the wind. Animals huddled in the few remaining habitable woods, their food sources nearly depleted. Strange, alien machines tore at the ground, ripping massive holes, gutting Arranon. His people were dying. He would wake, sweating, a scream caught in his throat, the rest of the night lost to his frantic thoughts.
Premonitions with images of Arranon in ruins plagued his days. He saw Korin as well, used up, an empty hulk cast aside—dead. A legion of immense power was taking control, hidden in plain sight, spreading, contaminating the purity of his world, of both worlds. But no cry of alarm came from Korin. He knew he must act, no matter the consequences. He would take his insights to Korin and hope someone would listen, someone in power, someone like Commanding General Yager.
Will Damon’s daughter understand the danger and join me in this cause?
Alerted to the troubling changes the people of Arranon believed in the danger. Plans began—strategies took form, the momentum picking up. But without solid proof, Cale could only warn those on Korin without accusing and calling unwanted attention to himself, increasing his risk.
It is my responsibility to try to unite those uncorrupted against this anonymous enemy.
Arranon cried out to him.
I will not refuse.
A voice resonated through the confines of the ship. “You’re cleared for take-off, General.”
“Copy.” Cale closed his eyes. Bright points of purple, blue, and green firelight danced beneath his lids. Musical voices sang through his mind and filled the cabin with a sweet, spicy aroma. “I’ll do my best,” he whispered, and opened his eyes. He powered the engines, the whine building into a roar. Electric blue tendrils raced down his arms, tingled, swirled around his gloved hands and disappeared into the fabric. He pulled back on the throttle. Power defied the strength of Arranon’s gravity, and the craft lifted. With a smooth acceleration, the small ship shot into the bright blue sky.

In one of my first works of Storm of Arranon, Cale was married and had a daughter of his own. Part of the reason for this was my critique group felt Cale seemed more like a love interest for Erynn than her mentor.
So . . . I gave him a family. In the end, it didn’t work for me—or for Cale. (I have other plans for him!) But here is a section of back-story with Cale as a husband and father.

General Cale Athru finished fastening the buttons outside the sturdy zipper of his heavy, faded-blue flightsuit. Bright morning light from Arranon’s sun poured in the one large window, warming the cozy space.
Hard to believe a storm is coming.
He tried to pull his hair from under the padded collar, only causing a tangled jumble. His cocha, a traditional hair clasp, had caught in a tear.
Illiyan walked into the snug sitting area. “Let me help. You need a new flight suit, Father.” She removed the clasp at the back of his neck and after freeing his hair, refastened it.
He turned and smiled at her. “This one’s fine.” Her blue eyes mirrored his, along with their similar hair color, although thick strands of grey now dominated his once coppery-brown shade. “Where’s your mother?
Illiyan smiled “Fixing you something to eat before you go.”
“I don’t have time.” He glanced out the window at a clear blue sky. “The weather’s about to change and I want to leave before it does.” Illiyan’s concern enveloped him, wrapping him in a tight burst of energy. A brief struggle gripped his heart.
I have a duty to Arranon. I also have a commitment to my family. Don’t the two responsibilities intertwine?
“Do you really have to go? Korin is unstable, dangerous. You said so yourself.”
Cale sighed. “That’s why I need to go. We can’t ignore what’s happening here on Arranon, or on Korin. Besides, I want to meet Erynn Yager. If she’s what I believe, she could transform the fragile alliance between our two worlds into a powerful association. We need to strengthen our connection to Korin.” Anxious expectation danced along his nerves.
Could she be like me, gifted with extraordinary abilities by the inadvertent happenstance of one parent from Arranon and one parent from Korin?
Illiyan’s mouth turned down. “You shouldn’t be going alone.”
Her unease slid over him. Cale took her chin between his thumb and first finger. He smiled with a confidence he didn’t feel. “I’ll be fine. I’d rather go alone.” His smile faltered. His intuition told him otherwise. Recent premonitions had him reconsidering his plans.
This will be dangerous.
Cale recovered his cheery façade and placed his hands on Illiyan’s shoulders. “I know Commanding General Tara. He’s an honorable man.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Illiyan grumbled. The shattering of breaking glass from the kitchen startled Illiyan and she flinched.
Cale released his daughter, grateful for the distraction. He didn’t want her sensing his uncertainty. “I need to see to your mother.”

The books have been shipped! Those of you in the US should have them in a few days. The international winners will probably be a bit longer. But they are coming!

The giveaway for Fire and Ice has ended. 797 people entered. Wow!
Congratulations to Marty, Rhianna, Kirsty, Patricia, and Bradley!! Woo Hoo!

Storm of Arranon will be free on Smashwords March 1st thru the 3rd.
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...

Enter Coupon Code: UB73J and download the format of your choice!

Okay, no more excuses. The holidays are over.

Fire and Ice is published!!!

So here goes.

Erynn replaced her smile with what she felt was an adequate expression of contrition. She walked out of the warm sunshine, through the big bay door, and into the cool air of the control tower.
The OIC, Major Kendal, stood at the front of the space. A small man with cropped gray hair and small eyes made smaller by his sour expression glared at her. He gestured, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
Her eyes scanned the large, busy room. All twelve monitors were in operation against the curved outer wall displaying the global and system response areas for Korin, and its neighboring planet, Arranon. Technicians sat at computer-filled desks encircling the immense screens stacked double and extending into the second story. Open skywalks ringed the next three levels giving access to generators, power units, and data storage.
General Brayton stood near one of the monitors. He looked over at her. His brown eyes narrowed and he smoothed back his short dark hair. He brusquely tossed his head, indicating she wait outside, and turned his attention back to the monitor.
Erynn walked to the rear of the room, out a door to a short hall, and leaned against the cool white wall, her eyes closed.
What has him so tight?
She considered her wing commander’s usual controlled manner.
This obviously isn’t about my evaluation, or the reprimand.
She didn’t have long to wait. Straightening, her eyes popped open, alerted to General Brayton’s approach by his tense air. It preceded him as thick black clouds precede rain. In the uniform of the day, sharply pressed dark brown pants and bright white shirt, he joined her. She held a crisp salute until Castell returned one. Erynn felt his apprehension before he said a word.
“At ease, Captain.” General Brayton stood erect, his voice tense.
With just the suggestion of her posture relaxing, Erynn made eye contact.
He barked an abrupt order. “Tomorrow, fifteen hundred. Report to the hangar bay, in full dress. Be prepared to give the VIP Tour to visiting dignitaries.”
“Sir? You know I’m not good at these presentations.” Erynn began, surprised by his request.
“Believe me, Captain Yager, you’re not my first choice. You’re not my choice at all. Something about you . . .” He glanced down the short hall. “You somehow manage to intimidate those around you.” He turned back to her, his gaze penetrating. “I’m no happier about this than you are, Captain.”
“I understand, Sir, and I agree. Couldn’t someone else, someone more
appropriate—
“No,” he snapped. “You have been personally requested for this detail. Just do it Captain. That was the order, for both of us.” His commanding tone gave her no choice. With a brief salute, he turned and left.
Who requested me, and why?
The question drove the last vestiges of the disturbing vision, the attacking alien fighters, and the ruined airfield, from her mind. Erynn even forgot about her forthcoming lecture from the OIC, Major Kendal. She would find out who made this request tomorrow, and it better be good.

With NaNoWriMo over it's time to continue Back Story Wednesday.

Erynn has been in a combat training exercise with her squadron. She was caught up in a powerful vision of destruction and was nearly tagged by Sean before she recovered and turned the battle.

The training session ended and as in the past, Erynn was the last Interceptor still up and flying. “Time to land and critique the exercise,” she whispered with a plaintive sigh. Erynn would’ve preferred to stay in the sky, sensing the life, the energy bursting forth from the surface of the world below. The powerful essence of this force flowed over her, joining in a frenzied dance with the charged air streaming around the fighter. The heightened sensations made her feel so . . . alive.
I love flying and I’m good . . . no, not just good, gifted.
She treasured the freedom and power it gave her. Her slight build wasn’t an issue to being an accomplished Interceptor pilot. It was something she could do independently and still gain acceptance as part of an elite group.
Acceptance. Well, as much as I can ever expect.
“Captain Yager, you’re cleared for final approach,” the control tower tech advised. His voice was metallic through the speakers in the small space of the cockpit. “Cut it a little close back there, Captain. Just a heads up, the OIC might have a few words for you. He didn’t look very happy when he left the control room.”
“Affirmative, tower control.”
Who is the OIC today?
She groaned quietly. “Major Kendal.” The name pushed past her lips in an unhappy whisper. This could be unpleasant. Nothing had happened. She knew her limitations.
Just take his reprimand and go on.
Her approaching Interceptor hovered over the scramble pad. “You’d think he’d be used to it by now,” she said into the COM.
“You’d think. But he’s the one accountable if anything happened to any of you or the fighters. I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell Commanding General Yager his daughter destroyed an Interceptor.”
Guilt rolled through her. Her quick reflexes often surpassed the capabilities of the fighter. In a low voice she said, “You’re right. I’ll tone it down.”
Erynn pushed gently on the thrust control with one hand. She adjusted the stabilizers with the other, initiated her descent, and landed her Interceptor feather light on the scramble pad. She cut the power to her fighter. The roaring engines whined into silence, mimicking her evaporating exhilaration.
Crew members rolled stairs into position next to the cockpit as the canopy glided open with a muted hum.
Erynn pushed the sun guard of her helmet up and loosened the chinstrap. Sensations from outside rushed over her, the day bright and warm. A balmy, gentle breeze swirled around her. Sharp scents of heated electronics and the sun baked tarmac blended with a sweet, spicy fragrance from aruke trees lining the airstrip. She closed her eyes, turning her face into the white heat of the sun. The quick tick, tick, tick of hot metal as it cooled beat a staccato cadence. Erynn sighed. Pulled back by the boot falls of the approaching ground crew, she opened her eyes.
“Captain Yager, General Castell orders you are to report to him, ASAP,” the same voice that had cautioned her from the COM in her helmet speaker now called over an outside intercom.
“I’ll be right there,” she answered before shutting down the voice activated COM inside the fighter. She shook her head.
This must be about my upcoming performance evaluations. Castell wouldn’t bother himself with a reprimand Major Kendal could adequately handle.
Unconcerned about either, she removed her helmet and climbed from the cockpit. After loosening the high collar of her heavy tan flight suit and tucking her helmet under her arm, she waved to the others in the squadron.
“What did you do now?” Mikal yelled as he approached from his Interceptor. He narrowed his blue eyes accusingly, then smiled, showing perfect white teeth.
The outside speaker blared again. “Team eight, report to mechanics bay.”
Koz took a swing at Mikal with a powerful arm, pulling the punch at the last minute. “Castell probably wants to know why Erynn continues to put up with you, Mikal.”
Mikal put his hands up in a bring-it-on gesture to Koz. Both men exchanged large smiles along with their missed hits.
Kyle walked up. “I’ll bet on Mikal. He cheats.”
Mikal straightened, his attention on Kyle. “What?”
Koz wrapped a meaty arm around Mikal’s neck.
Mikal pretended to choke, grasping at Koz.
Tam walked past the good-natured play, her graceful stride elegant even in the bulky flight suit. “Break it up, boys.” She rolled her golden brown eyes and shook her head. Shiny dark hair cut just below her chin swayed back and forth with the movement.
Sean, quiet as usual, stood watching. A slight smile turned the corners of his lips.
“This won’t take long,” Erynn called with a laugh. They had made plans to go to Dalthar, the city just below the base, and the Capitol of Korin for a night out. A first for Erynn, but she looked forward to this new adventure. Her friends would be there, a comforting safety net.

From last week . . .
Erynn is flying in a combat exercise. Distracted by a powerful vision from the Anim Blath, her fighter is ‘tagged’ by one of the other pilots.


Erynn sensed the disruption as laser fire raced toward her.
A bolt displaced the air. Energy split the surrounding electro-magnetic field. The Interceptor shuddered as a blast surged across the nose of the fighter.
“Two hits. Well, there won’t be a third,” she grumbled. Tendrils of blue static snapped around her fingers. Her hands tingled and tightened around the controls. Currents of electricity swirled inside the cockpit. Her attention fully recovered, she searched the sky. She stared out the canopy and scanned the immense open plain to her left. “Come on, come on,” she cajoled.
Nothing.
Her head jerked to the right. She glared up at tall mountain peaks. Erynn’s gaze tracked down the craggy slopes and into crevices. “Feel him,” she demanded through gritted teeth. “I can redeem myself. Just turn the battle. Maybe Dad won’t say anything.” Below her the fighter was a vague dark mark hidden in long shadows cast from the mountains. “Found you, Sean! Yes. I know it’s you,” she whispered, relief in her voice.
Twin laser bolts arced toward her. Their white-hot energy rocketed through the empty space.
“I’m ready this time.” She grasped the controls and banked left in a downward angle.
Bright laser bolts shot behind her, a clear miss.
The fighter cut through open sky. Erynn embraced the resistance. She pressed the aircraft to its limits. Wind whooshed passed the Interceptor’s gleaming white hull. Gravity pulled at her. The ground rushed forward. The controls shook, vibrating through her entire body.
Alarms blared. “PULL UP PULL UP” a flat mechanical warning chanted in a male voice.
“Not yet,” she whispered in a slow escape of air from her lungs.
Time slowed to a measured beat.
Now!
Adrenaline surged. Erynn exerted pressure on the controls. She turned hard, pulled back and came out of the reckless dive. Her right wingtip was less than a meter above the ground. She exhaled. Her breath rushed in a tremble through pursed lips. “That was close.”
Maybe too close.
Continuing to climb, her speed increased. She was forced against the rigid seatback. Harness buckles dug into her shoulders. Sunlight glinted off the target above her. She smiled and aimed.
Her targeting screen lit up. A steady glowed green against the yellow grid. The image of a fighter flashed, blinking red.
“I’ve got you, Sean.”
A calm melodic female voice chimed from the acquisitioning system. “Target acquired.” A slight pause followed. “Target locked.”
Erynn fired.
The voice continued. “Target destroyed.”
Erynn switched on her voice activated COM. “You’re done, Sean. I tagged you in a kill zone.” She pushed forward on the controls and leveled her rising fighter. Her respirations and heart rate slowed. The high ebbed.
“Yea, I can hear. But I almost had you this time.” Sean’s voice resonated in Erynn’s ears, satisfaction in his tone.
“‘Almost’ doesn’t count.” She eased off the throttle and decreased the fighter’s speed. Her mood improved. The damage undone from the . . .
Premonition? No. I refuse to accept that inference.
“Erynn, you were a little slow today. Sean had the drop on you for oh . . . half a heart beat before you turned on him.” Mikal’s chuckle carried eerily through her headset. “Someday he might just tag you.”
Erynn’s stomach fluttered and she frowned.
Why would his statement bother me? Not his words. Something else. What?
Recognition flitted at the edge of her awareness.
“Betrayal.” The whispered word rasped like a breeze through dry leaves in her mind. The source was gone before she could catch the speaker or grasp the significance.
No. Not going to happen. Just after effects of that strange . . . vision?
“No one will ever tag you, Erynn.” Tam’s silky voice only slightly distorted through the speakers interrupted Erynn’s thoughts.
Erynn shook off her inattention. “Wait. I want you to tag me. All of you.” A harsh edge fixed her words.
Ease up. They’re not like me. No one is.
Erynn smiled. “Who’s buying the first round of drinks tonight?” A bright tone slipped into her voice.
“That would be Koz,” Kyle volunteered elated. “He got tagged first.”
“I was set up. Sean’s my witness.” Koz’s deep rich voice brought an impression of a powerful man.
The image fit.