Shields and Broadswords and Dirks OH MY!

... Dallan peered intently around the edge of the aisle, then looked atLany and brought a finger to his lips before returning his attention to thesounds coming from around the corner."Little Bo Peep?" The voice was mocking, dangerous. "Where is yoursheep? Send it out to play with us."Lany's eyes narrowed at the words, and he took a cautious step forwardto stand next to Dallan, who shot an arm out to keep him from getting tooclose to the end of the aisle. Lany looked at the arm blocking him, then atits owner, whose eyes were narrowed to two bright green slits, his jaw tight,nostrils flared. Lany knew he no longer searched. Dallan was on the hunt,stalking someone, and it wasn't the Maiden."Oh look, a little lost sheep with tender white meat, all for us to devour.Can't wait to eat this young little sheep, too bad we've only an hour."Dallan reached his right hand behind him, down the back of his loosesweatshirt, and silently pulled a dirk out from underneath. Lany grimaced.So that's why Dallan had worn his hair unbound today, he thought tohimself. To hide the weapon better. It also explained why he'd wanted torip the elastic off the sweatshirt last night.Dallan's eyes narrowed even further. Lany tapped the Scot on theshoulder and he abruptly turned his head around, eyes intense, brow furrowedin warning.Lany mouthed the word 'No', indicating the dirk with a nod of his head.Dallan remained expressionless and turned his attention back around thecorner. Now he heard nothing. Only silence. He began to move.Lany grabbed him. "Dallan, wait," he whispered urgently. "This isn'tScotland. You can't just kill someone and be on your way.""Quiet, man," Dallan's voice was low. "She's running again."Lany's face fell; because of Dallan's latest antics, he'd almost forgottenabout the Maiden.They both froze and listened intently to the light footsteps fleeing downthe next aisle. This section of the library was like a huge maze, the shelvesand aisles all connecting in a pattern. The problem was, neither Dallan norLany knew it well enough to know where they were, not to mention theMaiden and the unexpected company which lurked nearby.The footsteps stopped just as another set, heavier, could be heard inanother aisle, and yet another. They, whoever they were, had split up toeither try to box the Maiden in or simply flush her out into the open.Dallan took a step forward and Lany again grabbed him and got hisface right in the Scot's ear, albeit on tiptoe. "No killing! If you do we'll allbe in a lot of trouble!"Dallan turned to face him, narrowed his eyes, flared his nostrils, thenspun away and began to move stealthily into a passage connecting severaldifferent aisles. Lany rolled his own eyes and started after him.The Weapons Master crept down a side aisle, stopped abruptly, andmotioned Lany to do the same. He listened intently, eyes searching theshadows of the next aisle, and then looked to Lany, a wicked smile on hisface as he twirled the dirk in his hand.Lany glared back and folded his arms across is chest.Dallan merely winked at the Assistant Councilor as he made his wayback down the aisle, only to stop midway, listen, and then turn to the wallof books at his left. He listened again a moment before he brought a handto the shelf at his own eye level. He paused, as if calculating something,then moved his hand to the shelf below and began to remove books.Lany watched nervously as Dallan, one by one, silently set books onthe floor. Finished, he reached into the hole he'd created and started pullingbooks from the shelf in the next aisle over. Comprehension dawning, Lanytiptoed to the opposite end of the aisle to carefully peek around the corner.Sure enough, leaned against the wall of books, directly parallel with Dallan,was what must be one of the thug's buddies. The young man had a longponytail that swished every time he moved his head to scan the aisle. Heprobably waited for the Maiden to come running by.Lany turned and glanced back into his own aisle. Dallan looked athim, flipped his dirk in the air once, caught it and smiled broadly. Lanygulped as quietly as he could and waved his hands frantically. "No blood,no wounding, no killing!" He mouthed then paused, mouth half open tospeak as he contemplated his next words.Dallan's eyes narrowed in impatience.Lany got an inspiration. "However," he mouthed, eyebrows archingmischievously, "you can humiliate them."Dallan smiled and reached through the hole in the books. Lany gulpedand carefully peered around the corner. Thug Number Two's head wasturned away from him at the moment. Lany had enough of a vantagepoint to see Dallan's hand reaching through the books, straight for theguy's neck. Lany switched his position and looked back to Dallan, whohad his left arm in the hole, the dirk in his right hand poised and ready foruse. The Weapons Master's eyes were intent on his prey.Lany nearly gasped as Thug Number Two looked right at him, justbefore a large hand grabbed his ponytail and pulled him into the shelf unitso hard he slumped to the floor the second the hand released him.Almost afraid to look, Lany leaned back far enough to see Dallan, dirkstill poised in his right hand and what looked like a long piece of hair inhis left. The Scot smiled lightly, and quickly strode past Lany, tossing thesevered pony tail at him as he did.Lany caught the hair, looked at it, glanced at the unconscious formin the next aisle and sighed audibly. He then threw the thing over hisshoulder and trotted after Dallan. "Well, that takes care of humiliatingthat one." He still hadn't caught up when Dallan rounded the next corner,probably one connecting them with another aisle. "Wonder what he doesfor an encore."
Copyright 2007 Geralyn Beauchamp
It's one thing to see the weapons you're writing about in books, perhaps even as part of a Highland games participant dressed in full Highland rigout. But to then actually get to see and handle the weapon itself is quite another matter.
The other day I went into a Scottish store here in Portland to see if I could get my hands on a MacDonald plaid to utilize for book signings and events. The ladies of the shop were quite happy to help me out and made sure I had the correct plaid for Dallan's time period. (Seeing the illustration of Dallan didn't hurt the fun they were having in doing so either!). Whilst busy with Tartan catalogues and fabric samples, I noticed something within the glass counter beneath the folded pieces of tartan. A Scottish Dirk. The hilt alone was scary. Easily grasped by a man, not so easily as held by a woman. The shop keeper took it out for me and showed me the craftsmanship of the hilt and sheath. Though not an antique, it was still superbly crafted. I, of course, asked her to unsheath it. She pulled the blade from its cover and the steel flashed more brightly than I imagined it would. It was one of the most wicked blades I had ever seen. To then think of the scene I just shared with you, and picture Dallan reaching back and pulling something like that out from under a sweatshirt, well ... no wonder Lany freaked!
When I wrote the scene so very long ago, (I wrote Time Masters back in 1994) I was more concerned with measurments than anything else. Dallan, at 6'6", had to have a long enough and broad enough build to pull the stunt off, and after seeing the blade, I knew I had calculated correctly. But again, to see such a wicked and extrememly deadly looking thing was something else all together. My hats off to the Scots for so handling such a weapon. And to think in the next scene Dallan is picking at his finger nails with it!

Christmas Tree Calamities! Have YOU ever had one?

OK, so I'm waiting for my little sister, Marijo, to come out to my house so we can commence with the infamous yearly Christmas Tree Decorating adventure. Though growing up it was much more adventuresome as she and I would ride our horses up into the woods, pick out a tree, then hike up later with our big brother to retreive it. Joe always enjoyed the trek, both up, as he would throw stuff at us the entire time, and back down, as he would make US carry the tree with him STILL throwing things at us all the way back down. Ah the priviledge of being the one with the talent for wielding the ax! Suffice to say, it's been at least eight years since a tree has met it's untimely demise from our property, they being far too tall now to deal with. So gaks, and gasp! I've been paying for one ever since.
Of course, when you're a single gal, getting a tree can be just as challenging even though you are paying to chop one down. I'm not a skilled tree chopper and can't lift a nine foot tree by myself so I usually bribe ... oh I mean coerce ... er .. ah... ask kindly of some unsuspecting gent (usually my brother in law or best friend's husband, to wield the ol ax, carry the body, hoist it onto the top of the jeep where it is quickly lashed for transport, take it off the jeep at the house, and of course, get said tree into the house, and into its stand. The price of tree transport has gone up over the years. I used to get away with a batch of chocolate chip cookies as payment. Now it's full taco dinners for said help and their family! But it's fun!
To make the task ever more adventurous, one has to get all the decorations down from the attic. We prepare ourselves by putting on our gloves, hats, anything that can be used for armor against the eight legged masses, and our cans of raid. (Hey, it's a log cabin!) Years ago the only thing one had to worry about are what we call around these parts as simply 'wood spiders' which, can get pretty hefty in their own right. So much so that you can actually hear them walking on the wood next to you. Ewwwwwwwww ... unfortuneatly the wood spider population has diminished over the years when the "girls" moved in. When they moved in we're not sure, or perhaps they were always there but too few to make a decent showing. At any rate, Black Widows seem to have a taste for wood spiders, who in turn had a hankering for Hobo spiders, which are as nasty as the "girls". So you can see why we wait til we are armed to the teeth, then ascend!
After getting all the decorations down one has to sift carefully, to make sure no tag alongs made it down as well. I remember the year a nice big wood spider decided to take up residence in the baby Jesus's cradle of our nativity scene. He wasn't happy about being evicted but too bad! We threw him outside rather than "stone him". After making sure there aren't any decorations that are going to crawl off the tree by themselves, we can commence with the deocorating. After which we turn on the tree lights and oooo and ahhhh at our stunning achievement. Occasionally, however, after turning away from our task, knowing we've gotten through yet another year relatively unscathed, there has been the resounding CRASH!!!!!!
One has to weigh what is worse. Your tree falling over, visions of your mother's antique ornaments shattering on the floor flashing across your mind with your immediate demise soon following, or having to go up into the atic again for the spare ornaments. I learned the last time it happened, that it was a lot less frightening to go to the store to get more ornaments. But not near as adventuresome! So this year, should the tree take a dive, I've decided to make my lil sis go back up into the attic for the spares!!!!!!! OH! I think I hear her truck now!!!!!!!!!! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ...... :)
So what sort of Christmas Tree calamity has befallen you?
Geralyn

Am I The Only One ...

... who suffers from the malady of not being able to read fiction once they really get to writing it? I've heard of this, suffer from it, and have known some other authors who are also plagued with it. Interesting, I must say. I have a small window of time (like about a week) to read like a maniac and get in what I can before I dig into Time Masters Book Two and plan to finish Sue Dent's Never Ceese and if I can squeeze in a good old fashioned sappy Christmas book I will. Hmmm, Vampires, Werewolves, and Santa. Well, that will make for an interesting mix, won't it? I'd better watch what I eat before I go to bed, eh? I'll be dreaming of a vampiric Santa Claus whose sleigh is pulled by eight really big werewolves!
Any suggestions for a good Christmas book?

Geralyn

Thank you Carole McDonnell and Wind Follower!

Ok, so how many of you panic at this time of year because you have those folks on your Christmas list that are just SOOOO hard to shop for? I know I have them, and two inparticular! And no, it's not that they have everything, or that they are extra fussy about the gift they recieve or are just so hard to please a new Jaguar wouldn't even suffice. No, I'm talking about the kind of folks who are so special to you, you want to give them something as unique and as special as they are.Every year, it's the same dilema, and I can never come up with something I think is special enough for them. These folks are like having another set of parents. I even call them mom and dad! They are Fitz and Jahna Houston, and they live in LA, work in the entertainment industry, aka "The Business" and are writers themselves. Many of you have probably seen Fitz on one show or another, and Jahna has been crowned I don't know how many times for different pageants she's been in. Fitz even won the sexiest husband in America one year and they were featured on the Montel show. So yes they are in the public eye a lot, and very, very, busy people. So this year I finally got clever, and decided to try to find something for them to have for those quiet moments, something they can share and come away from with a feeling of satisfaction. Something they can sink their teeth into that does't involve calories! But WHAT?!?!??

Enter the blog tour for Carole McDonnell's book Wind Follower. I didn't have time to read it before the tour, but did start to read the posts and Carole's own website and blog. All I can say is WOW! I logged into Amazon and bought it yesterday so I'd be able to get it mailed down to LA well before Christmas. It's perfect! It will tease the senses, feed the soul, taunt the intellect and most importantly, leave them feeling satisfied with an excellent read! WHEW! So thank you Carole McDonnell for penning a smart, tight, well written story that pretty much has it all! Now you'll have to write another one to bail me out again next year! Wind Follower is definitely a book to not only read for yourself, (which I definitely plan on doing) but to share with others!Get crackin Carole on that next book!

On sale at Amazon Books
As well as Juno Books
You won't want to miss her blog either at Carole McDonnell's Blog