Winter Solstice Book Sale

Season’s Greetings! I hope you’re all well, hanging in there and finding what peace you can in this unhinged world. By way of preserving my own sanity, I’m drinking coffee, listening to Seether turned up rather loud, and watching the sun descend into the trees at all of 2:30 in the afternoon, a hallmark of the upcoming winter solstice in this northern clime.

Winter Moon Raven, by F.T. McKinstryAside from the comforting idea of the sun emerging from the primordial darkness, one of the things I appreciate about the earth’s cycles is consistency. Whatever is going on, the sun rises, the sun sets, the moon waxes and wanes, and the solstices and equinoxes continue to mark the seasons. Barring some scifi cataclysm, this is something we can count on. It’s cold, it’s dark, but spring will come.

Our ancestors celebrated this, and so do we, in whatever way. Deep in our bones, we feel it. What better occasion for a book sale? Today through December 22nd, all five books in the Chronicles of Ealiron are on sale for $0.99 each. These books stand alone as individual stories that happen in the same world with some protagonists appearing throughout. Each book includes a map and a glossary.

Book One: The Hunter’s Rede. A swords-and-sorcery tale of one warrior’s transformation by the forces of war, wizardry, betrayal and love. In this tale, Lorth discovers his destiny when his homeland is occupied by a cruel warlord with no respect for the deeper powers of the world.

Book Two: The Gray Isles. Some fish stories should be taken seriously. Very seriously. In this story, Lorth sets off on a routine mission and is drawn into the cataclysmic fate of an Otherworld being that rules the sea.

Book Three: The Winged Hunter. An immortal hunter, a gardener, and some very naughty wizards. In this story Lorth must use his darker abilities to help two powerful wizards protect a maiden from a diabolical immortal predator bent on fulfilling a curse.

Book Four: The Riven God. His greatest challenge yet, Lorth falls afoul of a backwater monarchy stained by evil, a wayward princess, and a dark order of warlocks wreaking ruin. When the wizards declare war, the northern seas churn with unrest and a war god keeps his secrets.

Water Dark. In the calm, deep waters of the mind, the wolf waits. A tale of desire and deception told on a fairy-tale landscape of arcane texts, herbal lore, visions and disasters at the hands of the powerful. Water Dark is a standalone novella with a cameo appearance of Eaglin of Ostarin, a protagonist in the Chronicles of Ealiron.

These books are also available in paperback and on Kindle Unlimited.

Little Tree, by F.T. McKinstry

The following excerpt is from The Hunter’s Rede, during a winter solstice celebration in the great forested hall of Eusiron. Lorth, a.k.a. the hunter, our deadly protagonist, uses the wild and beautiful occasion as the ultimate distraction from a dark agenda indeed. You know, it only takes one asshole to ruin it for everybody.

The hunter padded through the forested hall of Eusiron, circling to the north, light and darkness merged to unholy intention as he blended with the trees.

Beautiful and strong, graceful as a hind, the Mistress ascended the dais in the center of the Ofthos. The hall fell silent, awaiting her. She raised her face to the sky twinkling with the constellation of Laerstroc, opened her arms and spoke in the Dark Tongue. The words summoned the stars, caressed the heavens and lay like a yielding lover beneath the loins of a hungry god. The hall grew winter-still as the night fell into the darkness of the longest night, the death of light and the silence of a dormant heartbeat. Then her voice changed and suddenly shifted. Gasps, sighs and smiles rippled over the hall as everyone felt the rebirth of the sun. As the Mistress’s voice echoed away, the top of Lorth’s head grew warm, as if light shone on it from the inside.

The hall erupted into cries of celebration. Deep, drumming music shook the floor. The priestesses spun away from their places and began to dance, moving like clouds of smoke. Many of the guests had left their seats and stood mingling and watching the dancers.

Setriana stood with Barenus near an ash tree on the northwestern corner of the Ofthos. In his altered state, Lorth no longer saw her human features; she wore the face of the Destroyer in full. But she was no match for him, friend to the wolves and child of the mountains. She had made her last mistake by crossing into his territory.

Calculating the distance between every face, hand, cloak, goblet and tree, he descended into the darkness of his heart, through the sinuous movements of women, fire, smoke and the rush and cry of music and voices. He went deeper, until he wept Leaf back to life, Setriana into a muddy grave and Barenus to his sword; he cast the Faerins from Os and the Tarthian-Anglorean war into a steel-slime wreckage of blood and dirt; he descended until he forgot Leda, her ivory breast and hollow eyes until finally, he settled like frost on Icaros, his hands clutched over the rastric bite on his heart.

He stopped with a breath. The Princess of Tarth appeared through a gap in the trees, her arms folded over her belly. Her wolfish face seemed to grin, causing Lorth’s rastric scar to burn. She paused and turned, slowly, and met the hunter’s gaze.

Lorth’s heart hesitated on the edge, like a drop of water creeping, swelling, then moving to its fall. Take great care when stirring the waters of Maern, for you may not understand the consequences. Darkness flowed through his hand and into the knife in his boot.

Barenus looked up. So did Eaglin, his expression impenetrable.

In a flash as swift as a bat, Lorth threw the blade. Barenus deflected it with his sword, but he was not fast enough to stop the blade from clipping his lover in the arm. Setriana screamed and fell to her knees, holding her shoulder.

The hall erupted into a surge of blades and cries as the High Guard took up arms.

The Raven of Eusiron towered to the heights like a storm casting living shadows.

If you are under attack by a wizard, think nothing.

Absurd advice. Icy wind cut through the hall, and the stars swirled like water. As Lorth attempted to gather himself in the darkness, he discovered he was not alone there. He collapsed to the floor as it joined the stars and consumed him.

Stay well and enjoy the holidays.

© F.T. McKinstry 2020. All Rights Reserved.