Adriana Kraft

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Guest Post – Character Interview with The Shadowdancer @Libraryoferana #Fantasycharacter #darkfantasy #Fantasy #Meetacharacter

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INTERVIEW

CHARACTER NAME: You can call me The Shadowdancer

  • Tell us a little about yourself.

How do you know I’ll tell you the truth? In fact how do you know what is the truth? It’s such a fluidic term.

I am the shadows, they obey me. I am he who walks unseen, unheard. I am he who brings swift death and then is gone. I am he who serves none but the Oncoming Storm.

  • Tell us why you’re embarking on this adventure?

My master the Oncoming Storm wishes it and so I wish it to be so.

We help those who cannot help themselves, we bring a freedom, of sorts in a land where freedom is sold to those who have the gold to buy it. We remove monsters, and those who inconvenience our plans.

We free elves – for they have no freedom, we rescue where we can and avenge where we cannot rescue.

  • Do you have a moral code? If so, what might it be?

*Laughs. I have killed more people than I can remember – men, women, even children once or twice for mercy, I have slain monsters and I have brought death to the highborn and the lowborn alike. There is no lock, cell or door in the whole of Erana that can keep out the Shadowdancer if he wants ingress. The laws of Erana mean nothing to me, I am beyond the law for I have no law.

Those who are my allies have my unwavering loyalty and the sharpness of my blades. Those who are my enemies – fear the shadows – for there I may be.

  • Do you believe in magic and the gods?

I am an adept – I use a magic of sorts although I am not a spellcaster.

Magic in Erana is complex, it goes where it will and shows itself in many forms. I am fast, faster than most, I can use the darkness and the shadows to cloak myself. If I do not wish to be seen, then I am not seen unless the looker is another adept or already knows someone is there.

I am not pious, I’m far too cynical to be a zealot but I pay homage to the gods if I need to. Do they exist? Yes, of course but whether they bother with the lives of mortals is another matter.

  • Are you a good man? What do ‘good and evil’ mean to you.

*Laughs again. Have you not been listening?

But good and evil are such relative terms in this land. The Witch-Hunters claim they are the force of good – they ‘protect’ the population against the mages and the elves, they keep order, they ensure the roads can be travelled safely….

It’s all bullshit – they oppress the elves – elves and half-elves and anyone not human has no rights, no regress to law. If an elf is attacked in the street – the Order of Witch-Hunters will not intervene, in fact they may even arrest the elf for being an elf. Magic is illegal – sorcerers such as my master should not exist. The only good mage is a dead mage, and all that nonsense. But of course they use magic for their own devices. The best healers are magical, the best weaponsmiths and blacksmiths are magical, and the Order knows it.

My master’s lady was taken, raped and beaten almost to death because she was an elven mage. She was kept as a slave and past around her Keeper’s friends because she had no right to law, no rights as a woman to her own safety or body, and no property.

The Order rule by fear, the dissemination of lies and propaganda; they take a cut from the slavers – who kidnap elves, and sometimes humans.

And for the record – the roads are lousy. There are bandits all over Erana – outlawed men and women who either are living that way because they have no choice or who choose a modicum of freedom – at the risk of capture and death.

I kill, I steal, but I’ve never lain with a woman without her consent, I’ve never killed a mage simply because they are a mage, or dragged someone off to be a slave because it’s a lucrative business.

I’ve risked my life to save strangers, to return something which was taken from an elf widow who had nothing but a worthless trinket from her husband, I’ve poisoned lords, and slit the throats of young men barely old enough to shave because of bad choices they made.

You tell me – am I a good man or a bad one? And either way, I do not care.

  • Who is your greatest friend?

The Oncoming Storm – he is my friend, my master, my mentor and the closest person to a father I have ever known or shall know. He saved my life, educated me, brought me freedom of a sort and wealth beyond that of any other elf in this land. He is kind to those worthy of it, and deadly to those who deserve it.

I would die for him.

  • Do you believe you will be successful in your quest?

I hope so. If we fail someone will pay for that.

  • What do you do on your days off?

I like good food, good books, walking in the hills. I am an alchemist as well, so I like to make things that go boom, or make other people regret meeting me. *Grins.

  • Do you have a lover?

Are you offering?

I have Ozena, a forest elf we assisted. She’s brave, and resourceful and her unworldliness is charming. For some reason I don’t understand she thinks I’m a good man.

EXCERPT

Excerpt from The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book I

“I trust you are the chief of this band, sir, for you seem confident enough to sit apart from your fellows?”

The bandit spun around, sword drawn, to see the figure standing at ease near to him yet beyond sword reach, cloaked with the shadows swirling around his feet. “Who are you, that you come here? You yourself are confident sir considering I am armed and you do not appear to be.”

Olek laughed and somersaulted with lightning speed over the bandit’s head, kicking the sword from the fellow’s hand, toppling him in the dirt and landing with his own sword against the man’s throat.

“Appearances may be deceptive, my friend, but I do not come here as an enemy, for if it was so, you would now be in pieces.”

The other bandits formed a circle, weapons drawn, as Olek sheathed his own sword and held his hand out to help the man up. “As for who I am and why I am here, I will discuss that with you at the fire, as a friend and not surrounded by a ring of swords. Believe me in what I say when I tell you that a good deal of you would fall to my blades before I lay slain and those who did not would feel the wrath of him whom I serve. But as I say, I come here in friendship.”

The chief nodded reluctantly and the bandits sheathed their blades. “You have balls, sir, I give you that. Now perhaps you would care to join me and my companions in a beer from the barrel.” The man gestured to the fire, walked to the barrel and fetched some beer.

He sat and motioned Olek down. “You know I have killed men for less than you just did.”

Olek smiled and took the beer, saying, “I do not doubt it, but if I wanted you dead you would be now lying in the dirt with your head removed, or simply you would not wake to see the dawn. I am not honourable enough to feel remorse for killing a man in his sleep should it suit my purpose. I am known, amongst other names, as the Shadowdancer, and I come from my master with a business opportunity.” As he sat, the cowl of the cloak fell enough to reveal his pointed elven ears.

The bandit chief smiled and held out a hand. “I am honoured to meet you, your reputation precedes you. My name is Tholin. I lead this band, but what could the Shadowdancer want with a band of rogues and outcasts such as us?”

Olek waited until the man was sipping his beer before drinking his own. “Ah, well, that is a good question. I have…other business to deal with and not even I can be everywhere, thus I find it useful to have contacts…eyes and ears around that I may use. Shadows in the shadows, you might say.”

One of the other bandits approached. “How do we know this elf speaks the truth, Tholin? He uses the name of the Shadowdancer yet it could be a lie. Elves lie.”

“Well, perhaps you should take it on faith, unless you want a personal exhibition of my skills…human,” Olek said with a smile like a cat.

The man drew his sword. “Sure, I have not shed blood for a few days, and yours will do nicely, elf.”

Olek simply laughed at the man and as he charged, side stepped and drew both his swords. The bandit charged again and Olek stepped back and disappeared into a patch of shadow beneath the trees to reappear behind the man, bringing his swords down a millimetre from the fellow’s face and a lock of the bandit’s hair fell past his eyes. He kicked the hand holding the sword and the weapon spun away. “Move one hair’s breadth and you are a dead man, bandit. I am the Shadowdancer, if you doubt me further perhaps we can continue this…entertainment, and after I leave you scattered for the wolves, I will take my business elsewhere.”

The bandit paled and held his breath until the swords were removed. “Apologies, sir, for the insult,” he managed with a squeak.

Olek nodded and shrugged, pulling the cowl back to shield his face. “It is best to be cautious in your dealings. Now after so much dawdling, perhaps we may talk business, my time is short. Witch-Hunters pass these roads. It would please my master if they were to be delayed…removed…inconvenienced. The Witch-Hunters seek not only users of magic but those of us who, through choice or necessity, live apart from what they term as law. If you are caught, you will hang, if not worse. The ‘hospitality’ of the Order is well known for its brutality. Now do you not think it would suit us all for them to be inconvenienced?”

Tholin looked at him in awe. “The Shadowdancer has a master? This man must be truly great or truly to be feared. What you ask is dangerous.”

Taking a slow swig, Olek merely replied, “The man I serve is both, for he is the Oncoming Storm. Now I can easily take this request elsewhere. You are bandits; you are supposed to be tough outlaws, the menace of the highways. It seems, however, that this is not the case.”

He got up to leave and Tholin stood quickly, moving to stop him. “We accept. We patrol the roads from the edge of the Tremellic Valley to the bend in the Great River known as the Blasted Oak Crossing. I am sure the Witch-Hunters can be inconvenienced.”

“Good will payment,” Olek said, holding up a small bag of gold coins. “I can be contacted at the Sign of the Moon on the road from Eleiry to the Tremellic Valley. There is a box there, of bleached wood. You may leave a message there, and proof if needed. The message will get to me. If you please my master, there will be extra payment.”

BLURB

The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book I

In a dark world where magic is illegal, and elves are enslaved a young elven sorceress runs for her life from the house of her evil Keeper. Pursued by his men and the corrupt Order of Witch-Hunters she must find sanctuary. As the slavers roll across the lands stealing elves from what remains of their ancestral home the Witch-Hunters turn a blind eye to the tragedy and a story of power, love and a terrible revenge unfolds.

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

BUY LINK

Universal Link https://www.books2read.com/Lightbeyondstorm1

 

The Shining Citadel – The Light Beyond the Storm – Book II

Who rules in this game of intrigue where magic is forbidden, and elves enslaved? Journey where beliefs shatter like glass, truth is unwelcome, and monsters from ancient times abound: share the romance and revenge, magic and passion, and the wages of greed in a world of darkest fantasy.

 

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

https://www.books2read.com/ShiningCitadel

The Stolen Tower – The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book III

What stalks the land cannot be but is.

Where magic is outlawed a troll Shaman calls from her deathbed to her heiress, Mirandra Var, daughter of the storm. Mirandra vows to find her missing kin, sort friend from foe, and claim the dangerous secrets guarded by unthinkable creatures. If she succeeds, she will become the leader of her tribe. If she fails, there will be no tribe to lead.

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

Universal Link https://www.books2read.com/StolenTower

AUTHOR BIO

British-born A. L. Butcher is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer, a lover of science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her prose has been described as ‘dark and gritty’ and her poetry as ‘evocative’. She writes with a sure and sometimes erotic sensibility of things that might have been, never were, but could be.

Alex is the author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles and the Tales of Erana lyrical fantasy series. She also has several short stories in the fantasy, fantasy romance genres with occasional forays into gothic style horror, including the Legacy of the Mask series. With a background in politics, classical studies, ancient history and myth, her affinities bring an eclectic and unique flavour in her work, mixing reality and dream in alchemical proportions that bring her characters and worlds to life.

Alex is also proud to be a writer for Perseid Press where her work features in Heroika: Dragon Eaters, Heroika Skirmishers – where she was editor and cover designer as well as writer – as well as Lovers in Hell and Mystics in Hell – part of the acclaimed Heroes in Hell series. http://www.theperseidpress.com/

Awards:

Outside the Walls, co-written with Diana L. Wicker received a Chill with a Book Reader’s Award in 2017.

NN Light Book Heaven awards:

The Kitchen Imps and Other Dark Tales won the best fantasy for 2018

Echoes of a Song – one of her Phantom tales – won the best fantasy in 2019

Tears and Crimson Velvet won the best Short Story category in 2020

Dark Tales and Twisted Verses – won the best Short Story Category in 2021

LINKS

Blog https://libraryoferana.wordpress.com/about-a-l-butcher-fantasy-author-poet-author-promotion/

Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/LightBeyondtheStorm/

Twitter https://twitter.com/libraryoferana/

Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/2hK33OM

BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/a-l-butcher

Goodreads http://bit.ly/GR2iqokvK

Linked In https://www.linkedin.com/in/alex-butcher-8342ab13b/

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/libraryoferana/

Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/libraryoferana

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.co.uk/abmonkey/

Books2Read newsletter sign up

https://books2read.com/author/a-l-butcher/subscribe/1/97541/

Independent Author Network https://www.independentauthornetwork.com/a-l-butcher.html

Google Play https://play.google.com/store/books/author?id=A.+L.+Butcher

Smashwords Author Page https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ALB123

Apple Author Page https://books.apple.com/gb/author/a-l-butcher/id895849667

Apple Audiopage https://books.apple.com/us/author/a-l-butcher/id895849667#see-all/audio-books

Kobo Author Page https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/search?query=a+l+butcher

Perseid Press Author Page http://www.theperseidpress.com/?page_id=523

Barnes and Noble Author Page  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22A.%20L.%20Butcher

 

Blog tour organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

The Huguenot Chronicles, by Paul C. R. Monk @pcrmonk: Review and Reflections #Huguenot #HistoricalFiction #KU

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Both my husband and I have French Huguenot ancestors. Each of our mothers carried the original immigrant’s Huguenot surname, though anglicized. Not long after the 1685 revocation of the Edict of Nantes, his mother’s ancestor emigrated from Normandy, France, to the Northern Neck of Virginia. He arrived sometime between 1687 and 1693. It is thought he may have come through England, possibly via Jersey in the Channel Islands. We have no family stories about this trip.

My mother’s ancestor arrived somewhat later. Along with his two brothers, he landed in Philadelphia in 1752, having set sail from Antwerp, Belgium. The story we have is that the boys’ mother had fled France with her family many years earlier and settled in Geneva, Switzerland. After her death, the three sons, by then adults, chose to come to the Colonies.

We have no records of the financial situation of either family at the time they left France or arrived in the Colonies. My mother’s ancestors, like many Huguenots, were well educated and quickly found jobs teaching in the Pennsylvania Dutch region west of Philadelphia. My husband’s ancestor must have come with resources. Though he had previously married in France, he fairly quickly married a Virginia woman. By the time he died some 35 years later, he had become the owner of a vast tobacco plantation in Westmoreland County, which he purchased from from Catherine Culpeper and her husband, Thomas Fairfax, 5th Lord Fairfax. His neighbors included the Washingtons, the Monroes, and the Lees.

So it was with great personal interest that each of us read a fairly recent release, The Huguenot Chronicles, by Paul C.R. Monk. The fictional story is, according to its description, “based on true events.” I do not know if this means it is true of a particular family, or more generally true. I certainly believe that every event reported in the series actually happened, over and over, to countless Protestants of conscience during the years preceding and following the edict’s revocation.

This series is a chilling story about a treacherous and hazardous period of history. Thousands of French Protestants did not survive the harsh turnabout that took place in 1685. Thousands more converted to Roman Catholicism to save their lives and those of their families.

As I read these books, I was constantly imagining the experience and journey of my ancestor. Did that family, like the heroine, have a long trek on foot through France to reach the refuge offered by Switzerland? Did they, like her, travel with a small band of refugees, walking by night, hiding by day? Since I do not know when my ancestor’s mother fled with her three sons or how old they were then, I wonder how much her experience paralleled the travails so vividly brought forth in Monk’s work.

My husband’s ancestor likely travelled a different route; much of Normandy is not far from England. Perhaps he, along with other refugees, was able to cross the channel furtively and proceed with less threat from there. It is not clear from existing records whether his first wife had died in France, or whether he left her behind. Records do show that three children of that union reached adulthood in France. Perhaps, as with some of the families in Monk’s story, his wife was unwilling to make the sacrifice and chose instead to remain in France with her children and convert.

Can the fictional family in Monk’s series possibly have a happy ending? Odds are definitely against them; but so were the odds against safe and successful flight from persecution in France for my ancestor and my husband’s. Were this not true for thousands more, the early colonies and our infant nation would not have benefitted so greatly from the significant contributions of Huguenot immigrants.

In short, I found this trilogy of books to be well-told, gripping, and realistic. I highly recommend it, especially to anyone with Huguenot ancestry. More generally, it offers a vivid picture of prejudice, hatred, and power in a tumultuous period of history that many Americans know little about.

Five Stars.

Buy Link:

https://www.amazon.com/Huguenot-Chronicles-Merchants-historical-fiction-ebook/dp/B09J3RYL5G/

Read for Free on Kindle Unlimited

 

Full Circle ~ Erotic Menage Romance #Excerpt

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BLURB

The Three of Cups:
Bounty, abundance, celebration, fruition…
all have come full circle

Exotic dancer Barbra Atkins has spent ten years carefully choreographing every step of her meteoric rise to success on the private club circuit. Now it’s payback time for the two college roommates who didn’t have time for their nerdy classmate ~ add three strapping spectacular hunks to the mix, and revenge can be so sweet!

EXCERPT

The sheer shock on the faces of her former college roommates proved more satisfying than Barbra Atkins had even dared hope. Tingling, she blew kisses at the rest of her audience, mainly men but with a nice smattering of women present.

Her fans began chanting Tam-my, Tam-my, Tam-my—her stage name. She stretched to her full height, rising on the toes of her high heels, lifting her long curls off her shoulders, knowing full well how that simple gesture accentuated her breasts. Without checking, she knew her nipples had swollen to nearly twice their normal size and jutted against the sheer peignoir top, suggesting a little mystery. Many of her fans didn’t care about mystery. Barb blew another series of kisses and rotated her hips. A little mystery fed the fantasies, bringing her customers back for more, encouraging larger tips, and generating more lap dance opportunities than she could fit in between dance numbers.

She’d honed every move of the body, every glint of the eye, every twist of the smile to enhance the fantasy. She’d studied hours and hours of tapes of her routines and had rearranged them with a critical eye. Grinning at a beefy man waving a fist full of bills, she danced confidently toward him, knowing that she’d left little if anything to chance.

It was her attention to detail, her work ethic, and her desire that had made her one of most highly sought-after exotic dancers on the national private club circuit. She peered out through the haze at her former roommates, Ruth Nelson and Desiree Rogers, who clearly remained thunderstruck to see their former shy and somewhat nerdy roommate confidently turning on a room full of men and women.

BUY LINK:

https://books2read.com/u/baok6a

 

“…does that make this a date?” #MFRWhooks #RomanticSuspense #Romance

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A desperate espresso café owner, a determined coffee franchise rep, a quiet Midwestern town, anonymous threats out of the blue—where does the true danger lie?

Welcome to Book Hooks, a Wednesday offering by members of Marketing For Romance Writers to share a little taste of our work and entice you into wanting more! Click on the links at the end to travel to other Book Hook posts, and enjoy!

EXCERPT

Kevin curled his fingers around the car door latch and turned back to Nadja. “Hmm, kissing me on the cheeks—does that make this a date?”

She broke into a large smile. “I’m not positive. Don’t misread a European custom.” She hesitated, then leaned across the space separating them to brush her lips lightly across his. She settled back in her seat and quietly watched his eyes sparkling.

“That’s an American custom,” he said, “for ending a date.”

“Don’t be so narrow-minded,” she teased. “I believe that custom is fairly common worldwide for ending a first date. Good night,” she added quickly. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“You bet you will,” Kevin said, opening the door.

She watched him until he entered the motel. She hadn’t planned on their evening turning into a date. But it had. How? When? Why?

It had seemed like such a natural thing to kiss him. It had only been a kiss, and not much of one at that.

So why did her lips still tingle?

BUY LINKS

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09L7WQH12/
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/1140503297
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/i-am-not-for-sale
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1115419
https://www.extasybooks.com/I-am-Not-for-Sale

REVIEW

Five Stars from N. N. Light

“The romance is so hot, you may have to call the fire department. But it’s the character development throughout I am Not for Sale which makes this such an incredible story.”

BLURB

It’s nothing personal…

It all seems simple enough—Ukrainian immigrant Nadja Petrov is determined to hold on to her thriving new coffee shop, Nadja’s Literary Cappuccino, and Java Beans District Rep Kevin Langley is equally determined to move into her North Iowa town with a franchise and run her out of business.

He scopes her out, she keeps a watchful eye on him, and the sparring begins. But there are other players involved, and the web of intrigue soon threatens Nadja, her shop, and her aunt as well as Kevin, his potential franchise, and his son.

Within this cauldron simmers a sexual attraction between Nadja and Kevin that catapults them to overcome their fears of intimacy and commitment. Their lovemaking is tender and raw. Their love is nearly lost in tragedy—can it survive doubts, fire, and even a death?

CLICK TO TRAVEL:

The family said WHAT? #MFRWAuthor

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Week 2 of the MFRW year-long blog challenge! Click on the list at the bottom to travel to all participants. This week’s theme? How my family supports my writing.

 

None of us could do what we do without support, and when family is on our side, we thrive – we can take on the world. For starters, the most important family member in my life – my husband – is my co-author, so we face the world with a solid foundation.

We got a good head start in the families we grew up in. Our parents are gone, but all four of them encouraged creativity and supported unconventional choices, however ill-advised some of those choices might have seemed at the time.

Hubs’ mother was an avid romance reader, especially during the nine years she was a widow after his dad died. As her eyesight worsened, we’d hit our local used book store for a half-dozen large-print romance books every three weeks before making the five hour drive to check in on her for the weekend. She did read (and liked) a couple of our early romantic suspense stories, although she confessed she “skipped over” the sex parts. She would probably not have approved of the erotic direction our writing later took.

Both my parents, on the other hand, probably would have, and I think my dad would even admit to some envy, were he still here. His older sister – my aunt – worked for the Kinsey Institute, so no topic was off limits when she was around. She and he are probably doing fist pumps as they watch us navigate the publishing world with our sexy stories. My mother would probably have kept her approval more hidden (she disapproved of my aunt). But when it came time for me to clean out their last apartment, on the bookshelf hidden behind the clothes in her closet I found a well-read copy of the Kama Sutra, so I know her heart would have been on our side.

We carry their support with us, always.