Monday, November 30, 2015

A Cold Discovery ~ Excerpt From Six Celestial Swords

“He’s human.”
“And I’m a dwarf!  Can you make any other plain-as-day observations, elf?”
“You’re a dwarf without much armor,” Alere replied without tone.  While Tarfan blustered and fumed about the implied threat, the elf added, “This man is heavily armored in a fashion I’ve never quite seen the likes of.  The metal’s strangely pale.  And here...what’s this emblem?”
“He’s a knight of Andaria,” Tarfan blurted angrily.  “Wouldn’t expect a mountain elf to recognize one.  Though, what a knight of Andaria is doing this far north...”
“Is he alive?” Xu Liang asked when it seemed that elf and dwarf were intent to leave out the only truly important detail concerning the stranger.
Alere was kneeling beside the unconscious man, but it was Tarfan who had to step forward and check his pulse as the elf made no motions to do so.  The dwarf nodded once.
“What should we do?” Taya asked, mounted once again upon Guang Ci’s horse, having taken well to her daily riding beside the mystic she’d grown to admire and respect.  Xu Liang treated her with patience even when she complained about her ‘ill feelings’ or asked too many questions.  He seemed to encourage her questions while Tarfan constantly enforced his guardianship upon her, telling her to sit still and be silent.
In this instance the mystic gave his answer to everyone.  “We must stop and tend to him lest he share his horse’s fate.”
Taya looked upon the frozen animal with pity.  Then she remembered her pouch and the herbs, roots, and petals she always carried with her own journal—that wasn’t filled with Tarfan’s silly history lessons or diagrams of worthless artifacts.  During the years she’d been traveling with her uncle she had taken up a study of the plant life in different lands.  Through reading, interrogation of locals, and experimentation she had learned quite a lot about the various poisons and medicines found in nature.  It was her secret desire to become a healer and so she leapt at this first real opportunity with alacrity.  “I can help!”
Everyone looked at her, even the guards who couldn’t possibly have understood what she said.  The elf seemed disinterested, Bastien was neutrally quiet, and Fu Ran seemed mildly curious.  Tarfan frowned dubiously. 
Xu Liang, however, kept his eyes on the ice-rimed stranger and said—as if she were of equal status and importance as everyone else on this expedition, “Please, do so.  The weather is looking disagreeable.  I’d like to move away from these heavier clouds before it begins to snow again.”

Available from Raventide Books

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Snippet No. 13

“Ghosts and goblins, huh?” Daniel mumbled.
Stuart pulled his jacket on and slipped his preferred lengths of flax-gold hair out from beneath it, letting it fall down his back.  “A spirit,” he corrected.  “And at least one goblin.”
Daniel frowned.  “Spirit, ghost…same thing.”
“Well, no,” Stuart began, searching for his glasses.  They weren’t in any of his pockets.  He wondered if Daniel had even returned them yet.  Looking to see if Daniel was holding onto the irritating spectacles, Stuart continued, “Ghosts are disconnected from bodies and spirits are typically still attached…or never were to begin with.”
Daniel just looked at Stuart.
Stuart didn’t see the glasses on the vampire’s person, and began checking his own pockets again.  “Spirits are living, while ghosts are dead,” he reiterated.
Daniel’s brow furrowed.  “Let’s agree to disagree with that idea.  What are you looking for?”
“My glasses,” Stuart answered.  He scanned the floor around him in the case that he’d dropped them, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Available from Raventide Books

Friday, September 4, 2015

Quote No. 3

"The spirit cannot exist in a sealed void.  It will eventually devour itself or waste away."

Mage-Adept Merran
Available From Raventide Books

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Grotesque No. 3

How long your words are softly spoken,
delivered with razor edge. 
You begin to churn time. 

The ancient man sits motionless as eons.
The urgency exhales into zeal.
I am over watching the skylight dance beneath its own demise.

It tests his patience;
Reminds him that stars are powerful,
Cold eyes from the most enigmatic source.

Decided once a fool,
The old man sitting in the black performs patience well,
Nothing from an intolerable life should extend to legacy.

His head sticking with wound, dark blood in his veins.
He feels his hands may have been exact at reproach.
You are precious even if not there.

The smile of the ancient man betrays the truth;
He hasn't any of his own to take.
No, but then I am restless as time.
It has too long.

Poetry "Grotesque No. 3" Copyright ©  T.A. Miles

Original Artwork "Another Misplaced Third Eye", used under license by CC,
Derivation "Grotesque No. 3" by T. A. Miles

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Snippet No. 12

From a bed, Korsten looked toward the window of a room that felt spacious; the air around him moved freely, as if the water in his dream had transformed.  His mother sat smiling at him before the window, red hair dark against the ocean view over her white shoulder.  She watched him with what he’d always taken for gentleness, his private shelter from his father and from life outside of his dreams or a book.  Looking at her delicate features now he saw something else.  He saw wisdom, of an ancient sort.  Thoughts of Ashwin flashed across his mind and he watched the smile slowly seep from his mother’s features.
He felt at once confused and remiss.  “Mother,” he began.
           “Korsten,” she said, her voice overlapping his own.  “Come home.”

Snippet taken from Blood Reign
Coming December 2015 from Raventide Books

Monday, June 22, 2015

Quote No. 2

            “Flowers grow for anyone and no one. There's not one flower that comes up from the Earth that did it for any one individual, personally.” 

Coming Soon from Raventide Books

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Grotesque No. 2

Why else?
That question played,
Always replayed his beginning and end.
Moments defined by raising arms.

His one seducer back.
One moment pressing as another cares.
The tongue of  his stranger’s mind,
One soft  flicker.

Lips that touch his blood directly,
Shoulder leaned down,
Hand in shirt...
The dark wall of closed eyes looks back.

He was rolling it happens.
Will other lips have way as his?
Slender difference if it were so,
Beautiful young flower.

But oldest is fair,
Letting blue of lavender,
Like moons, straight around his face.
A delicate face.

Eyes a pale mirror.
A far look back at expression to be.
Even he does much more than none.
It matters.

Poetry "Grotesque No. 2" Copyright ©  T.A. Miles

Original Artwork "Dirty Thought That Eats At Your Stability", used under license by CC,
Derivation "Grotesque No. 2" by T. A. Miles