Tower of Bones and Forbidden Road

Connie Jasperson loves everything to do with fantasy - music, games, and especially books. Not only does she read and review them, she writes meticulously crafted novels of epic fantasy that include very real, very likable characters. 

I'm showcasing two of her books today on Fresh Pot of Tea, Tower of Bones and Forbidden Road.

Tower of Bones

…“But here, I have not told you the special thing - My childhood nurse, a woman with, shall we say an ‘earthy’ past, long ago told me a small secret gate lies hidden in the garden wall beneath the Rose Tower, which some now call the Tower of Bones.” Edwin started on hearing the tower which figured so prominently in his dreams named. “It is a very dark garden when there is no moon and once this gate was quite useful for ‘private trysts’.

“Consider this - If a maid’s clandestine lover could find the gate useful for secret trysting, why then a thief could easily enter or leave, should they wish - but only on a moon-dark night. You will see why when you get there.” He looked over at a table full of traveling merchants and their guards, and then leaned forward as if talking to his closest friends. “I tell you this knowing it is safe with you, and you will carry it either to the grave or to his Holiness, which ever you see first!”

Jaxon leaned back and tossed a money pouch to Friedr, who accepted it with some confusion. The huge warrior’s face cleared up as he felt the contents of the pouch, and he tucked it into his shirt with a knowing smile.

“I will take the horse, and thank you for offering it to me,” Jaxon said as he stood up, automatically casting a wary eye around the room. “It is good to do business with you. The Mercenaries of Arlen stand ready in case of need, at the usual price of course. The Temple has only to call.” With that said he flipped a coin to the bartender and walked out into the night, followed by his guards.

“What was that all about?” asked Edwin, speaking in a whisper. “I don’t remember us having a horse to sell. We need our pack-ponies.”

“Don’t be so wool-headed, farm-boy,” whispered Aeolyn, who only caught the last of the conversation. “There are others, not of Arlen in this room tonight. It was a cover for what is really in the little money pouch. Come on Friedr, what is in the little bag?”

“I would guess it is a key of some sort,” suggested Christoph quietly, smiling faintly. “Perhaps it is the key to a gate beneath a certain tower?”

ForbiddenRoad

“Why does the land change so radically here?” Zan finally asked Edwin. “This is the worst road I’ve ever seen!”

“Tauron’s poison is nearly at the door,” replied Edwin, wondering what was bothering Zan. “It’s a mere fifty leagues away from the gap now. I thought you understood. We’ll be in Tauron’s Mal Evol in three days.”

“I knew it on one level, but I guess I didn’t understand what it meant,” replied Zan, feeling temporarily dismayed by the grim reality of the landscape. “I guess I was thinking of the adventure, not the reality. I was thinking it’d be like Aelfrid Firesword, all fun and adventure, with no worry.”

 “Actually, Aelfrid Firesword’s life must’ve been terribly difficult,” said Edwin, walking next to Zan. “Think about it. He was forced to kill his closest friend who’d become a rogue mage and gone over to Tauron. Can you imagine how you’d feel if, say, I went over to Tauron? How would you protect the people of Neveyah from me? What would you do?”

“I never thought about that aspect of the story,” Zan admitted. “Making those sorts of decisions, having to kill someone you love in order to protect others you love, I can’t imagine what that was like for Aelfrid.” He sighed. “But I’d do it, if I was forced to. I think it’d kill me, though.”

“I know.” Edwin clasped Zan’s shoulder. “Daryk was the most famous of the Dark-Mages, but most people don’t know he fought desperately against Tauron’s minions at Aelfrid’s side when the two of them first came into their powers. He worshipped Aeos, and loved Neveyah with all his heart. It never occurred to either Aelfrid or Daryk he would ever fall to Tauron, but there was no Temple, and no vows to protect him from Tauron’s blandishments. There was no college to teach young mages how to use their magic, so they had to learn how to control the build-up of chi and avoid the madness by gaining apprenticeships to older mages. Daryk was lured away from their kind master by a mindbender who was under Tauron’s spell. It was because of Aelfrid’s grief over the loss of the man who’d been closer than a brother, and his struggle to save the other mages still loyal to Aeos that Aeoven and the Temple exist today. Without Aelfrid we wouldn’t have the augmentations allowing us access to greater chi reserves, nor would we bind ourselves to the Goddess with the vows. It must’ve been a terribly hard time to live through.”

“I see what you mean,” admitted Zan. “As a kid I read all the stories, and just thought it was all good against evil, romance and happy endings. But maybe it’s just the way the bards tell it.”

Edwin laughed. “It wouldn’t be a good story if it was all dirt, bug bites and poor sanitary conditions now, would it?”

Atlas Truck Filled with Treasure

In 1968, we had just moved to Pennsylvania. My mother was interested in antiques, and a distant relative caught wind of this. The old lady had no children, so she willed us the contents of her apartment when she passed away.

Imagine this, if you will: a rental ranch-style home, late 60's. An huge Atlas truck pulls up. Two red-faced guys proceed to unload boxes and boxes of furniture, old toys, glass, and books. Everything is taken down to our very musty basement.

I will never forget the weeks that followed - unpacking those boxes was like a walk through time to a different era. Some objects showcased the wonders of the past, like the series of cigarette cards produced for the World's Fair. Others whispered of a bad side, such as an old Amos 'n'Andy map.

There were random treasures, too. I was enthralled by a Fortune Telling Device, a packet of cards "Guaranteed to Answer any Questions You May Have" with the picture of a very unlikely-looking gypsy lass on the cover. We all loved an old Imp's Coin collector book, complete with old nickels and dimes, enough to make up the princely sum of two dollars.

The furniture included an old bust of Schiller, a large pair of portraits of the old lady's parents (and didn't the father look a real fright, with his dark muttonchops and piercing eyes! He used to give me nightmares) and a marble Oriental table with devil's faces carved into the dark wooden legs.

Our favorite things, however, were the albums of old Post Cards. The old lady collected them and put them into huge, dark, Victorian books. They spanned the late 1800's, with faded-looking pictures of Niagara Falls and bright cartoons from the seaside, some of them VERY rude.

There were cards of cityscapes, with windows and moons cut out. When you held them up to the light, the cut-outs glowed yellow, and the card came alive.

Some had pictures of motion picture beauties of the era, with long ringlets past their waists and huge feathered hats.

I distinctly remember one card from the 1940's with the picture of a Horn and Hardart Automat. Obviously, someone had gone there and was so impressed they had to buy a souvenir. 

That delivery was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It was like Aladdin's cave had been packed up, stored in an old moving van, and sent to our tiny rancher. The contents were the result of several lives, now long gone, and I will never forget it.

The Pipe Woman Chronicles

Release Day Blitz for the 5th and Final Book in The Pipe Woman Chronicles by Lynne Cantwell

Naomi Witherspoon lives in interesting times. At the winter solstice, she was Seized by a  goddess to mediate a power-sharing agreement between all the pagan gods. Then, as her relationship with her new boyfriend Fissured, she Tapped a wellspring of strength from her Native American heritage.

Now, Gravid and due any day, she must conduct the mediation of her life. Will she succeed? Or will it all go up in smoke?

The answers to those questions, and more, can be found in Annealed, the final installment in the Pipe Woman Chronicles, an urban fantasy series by Lynne Cantwell.

It began at the winter solstice

And it ends

Now.

It's zero hour...

Naomi has just two weeks to find a new home for Joseph's grandfather. The old Ute shaman is fighting for his life against a mysterious injection of toxin he received at the hands of the Norse Trickster god Loki. If Naomi is to defeat Loki once and for all, she must learn what it is he seeks under the old man's wickiup.†

She has just one week before she must mediate between the Earth's pagan gods and goddesses and the Christian God. If her efforts fail, all of humankind will suffer the consequences.

And her baby is due any day.

In this, the fifth and final book of the Pipe Woman Chronicles, Naomi is in a race against the clock to balance the demands of her body, her family, and her friends ñ and she must do it while the whole world is watching.

A taste of chapter 10: 

 Jehovah sighed. "White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman, I concede that much of what You have said here is true. Humanity wrestles still with its baser impulses, even as it reaches for the pinnacle of its potential. Math, the sciences, engineering. I never thought they would figure out fractal theory."†He chuckled. "I love My children dearly. Soon they will reach the stars. They are ever a surprise and a delight to Me."

Lynne Cantwell's take on the excerpt: "Naomi has finally reached the Big Mediation -- the one between the Christian God and all the pagan gods and goddesses that the whole series has been driving toward.In this scene, White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman has just outlined all the ways humanity has trashed God's Creation: ruining the environment,†using Scripture as an†excuse to treat†other human races like animals, and so on. God acknowledges all of that.†But it's also clear that He takes great delight in what He has created -- and He has a sense of humor, too."

About the Author: Lynne Cantwell

Lynne Cantwell has been writing fiction since the second grade, when the kid who sat in front of her showed her a book he had written, and she thought, "I could do that." The result was†Susie and the Talking Doll, a picture book, illustrated by the author, about a girl who owned a doll that not only could talk, but could carry on conversations. The book had dialogue but no paragraph breaks. Today, after a twenty-year career in broadcast journalism and a master's degree in fiction writing from Johns Hopkins University (or perhaps despite the master's degree), Lynne is still writing fantasy. In addition, she is a contributing author at Indies Unlimited and writes a monthly post for The Indie Exchange.

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