Saturday, April 29, 2017

The Heroes' Inheritance- Chapter Two!

Wassup, peeps?! Sorry for the delay in posting, here's the latest chapter of my novel, The Heroes' Inheritance.
Links to Chapter One and Prologue-
The Heroes' Inheritance- Prologue

Chapter Two

Just Repayment


That afternoon, Mark led a blue roan mare, which Mara had aptly named Blue, from the stable, bringing her to stand just outside the front door. There he waited, looking out at the lake, until Mara stepped out. She had traded her dress for a blue tunic and black leggings, and her hair was tied back with a blue kerchief-she knew the wind was blowing rather wildly.

Mark mounted, then twisted around to help her up behind him. Blue was not saddled, and Mara was perfectly content with that. She preferred riding bareback.

“Ready?” he asked her.

She nodded, and Mark clapped his heels to the horse’s sides, sending it into an easy lope. They rode along the lakeshore, Blue’s hooves kicking up dirt behind them. On the other side of the lake was their cousin Adam’s home. For reasons which Mara had never understood, Adam’s parents had purposely built their home as far from the woods as possible, while her own parents had built theirs close to the forest. It made the two families close enough to see each other often, but not right beside each other.

As they neared the house, Mara smelled a heavenly scent drifting towards them on the breeze.

“Pie,” Mark said, as if on cue.

Mara poked him between the shoulder blades. “Do you ever stop thinking about food?”

“Rarely,” he replied. They rode up to the house, and he dismounted when the horse stopped. Helping Mara down, he tied Blue’s reins to the stake designed for that purpose. Before they had made it up the porch steps, the door had already been opened by Adam.

The tall, blond, lanky boy grinned widely. “What are you two doing here?” he asked.

Mara smiled back. “There’s a tournament in the village tomorrow,” she said. “I’ve persuaded Mark to go. Are you interested?”

Adam gave her a look. “Against Mark? Are you serious?”

“You’ve gotten better,” Mara replied. “And Mark hasn’t practiced.”

“Will you two please stop talking about me as though I’m not standing right here?” Mark pleaded.

“No,” Adam replied.

Mara snorted. “Leave him alone. So, what do you say?”

Adam shrugged. “Sure, if you insist. Don’t expect me to last very long, though. What time?”


Over Adam’s shoulder appeared his mother. She beamed at the sight of her niece and nephew, and opened her arms in a welcoming embrace. Mara accepted the hug and inhaled deeply. The familiar smell of baking bread and cinnamon filled her nose.

“What are the two of you up to?” she asked.

“I’ve dragged them both into the tournament tomorrow,” Mara stated.

Marianna nodded once. “Best be careful, Mark. The last tournament ended badly for your opponents.”

Adam nodded. “They’ll be out for revenge, for sure, and if they’re determined enough, the rules won’t stand in their way.”

“Good point,” Mara said, just remembering the attitudes of the participants in last year’s tournament after being defeated by her brother. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I’ll be fine.” Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re underestimating me. I beat them once; I can do it again.”

“Never mind,” said Marianna, breaking the silence. “Of course, you two will stay for dinner.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Mara saw her brother’s eyes light up at the mention of food, and she elbowed him in the ribs. “Mark.” She didn’t need to say more.

He looked suitably abashed, and replied meekly, “Yes ma’am. Dinner would be lovely.”




The next morning, Mara woke early and prepared breakfast, which she finished just as Mark staggered, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen. “Coffee?” he asked hopefully, smelling the heavenly scent.

“In the pot, Mark. Here. Eat.” She passed him a plate, and, without hesitation, her brother dug into the oatmeal. “Hungry, aren’t you?” she asked dryly. “Are you nervous?”

He considered her question for a moment. “A bit,” he admitted. “Some people weren’t exactly good sports last year. They may not play fair.”




The twins rode into town two hours later, this time joined by Adam and his aunt. The village of Travela was not large by any means, but today it was bustling with activity, the town square filled with vendors and crowds. The tournament was to take place in the square, and a makeshift amphitheater had been constructed there. Nearby, a small building marked the armory, where the competitors would prepare for the event.

At the edge of the square stood a large, colorful tent, where the village magistrate, Kenneth Closebrook, would be keeping watch over the proceedings, along with the village healers. Unfortunately, accidents happened often during these tournaments, and the authorities had to remain vigilant even during this day of frivolity.

Beside the armory were the stables, where the tournament’s attendees could safely keep their horses. It was to this building that the Farlanders headed upon entering the square. They dismounted and led the horses inside, and when their mounts were safely in their rented stalls, Marianna and Mara left the boys and headed to find decent seats.

Mark and Adam entered the armory and the relative silence was a huge relief. The foyer was empty, except for a small, wiry man standing near the door, who raised his eyes to survey the two boys.

“Names,” he said, his tone a bit weary, as though he was getting tired of his job.

They gave their names, and he looked them up and down. “Brothers, are you?” He didn’t sound all that interested.

“Cousins, actually,” Mark replied.

The man nodded and wrote something down on a sheet of parchment, then waved them on. “Practice blades are in the bin, mail shirts hanging up if you need them.” He gestured to the aforementioned items at the end of the room. The boys each selected a dulled practice sword, sliding it into a sheath at their waist. After slipping on the cold chain-mail shirts, they proceeded into the next room.

The atmosphere in this area-jokingly referred to as the Barracks because of the hardcore preparation that competitors participated in-was unfriendly, to say the least. Silence fell as its inhabitants looked upon the newcomers critically.

Mark, anticipating the cold welcome, glanced coolly around the room, nodding in acknowledgement. A few men nodded in reply, and several smiles were flashed in his direction. But out of the twenty men, about eight held a considerable grudge. Adam knew a few of the others, and busied himself making small talk. Mark joined him and listened to the conversation, but he could hear a few muttered insults.

He nudged Adam. “This was a bad idea.”

His cousin shook his head. “Don’t back out. That’ll only make you look bad. You go in there and knock the stuffing out of them-”

“And have them angrier at me.”

Adam sighed. “Just keep away from William Swiftviper. He looks ready to murder someone.”

“Namely me,” Mark stated flatly. “Understood.”

He separated himself from Adam, in an effort to draw attention away from his young cousin. He didn’t want Adam to fall victim to the same treatment as himself simply because they were together.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and someone spun him around, slamming his back against the wall. “If it isn’t Mark Farlander, the coward who made me look bad.” A muscular arm pressed into his windpipe.

Mark saw a pair of brown, hate-filled eyes inches from his own. “William,” he rasped. “What do you want? Whatever it is, I’m sure it can be settled without breaking my neck.”

“That depends.” William Swiftviper shook his dark hair out of his face. He was young, probably around twenty, only three years older than Mark. But his physical strength was much greater, and he easily twisted Mark around and locked his left arm behind his back. Face pressed into the wall, Mark let out a gasp of pain as his arm was twisted cruelly upward. He would not cry out or beg for it to stop; wouldn’t give William the satisfaction of hearing that.

“You’ve made us look like fools, and you’re going to pay for it,” William hissed in his ear.

Wasn’t hard to make you look like a fool, Mark thought. “I won… fair and square,” he gasped, earning himself another vicious upward twist. A steady pressure on his back forced him down to his knees. Then someone delivered a hard kick to Mark’s stomach.

Mark could hear the voices of his tormentors laughing. His face flushed red in humiliation as he clutched his stomach. A knee pressed into the center of his chest and William’s face hovered over him.

“I swear that you will receive a just repayment,” he whispered. “So swiftly you won’t know what hit you.”



Fabulous. Now Mark has an enemy intent on kicking his butt in the tournament. Now what?
Luv u guys. Sorry for the cliffhangers.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

The King Above All Kings- Part Three

Part Three, folks!
Sorry for leaving y'all hanging like that.

“How did you find this place?” Tilly asked, her voice deafeningly loud in the cramped space. They were in a sort of passage, behind the walls in the kitchen. Jed was a bit confused as to how he had never known about this.

Justus didn’t answer, and the siblings looked at him. He was kneeling, his head bowed and his eyes closed as he whispered inaudible words. Jed glanced at Tilly. Is he praying? he mouthed.

She nodded and shrugged. Jed had always known Justus to be a religious person, but he mostly ignored the big man’s behavior. But now, he hoped that whatever god Justus prayed to would help them now.

“Why would Calhi try to take Dursia?” Tilly asked when Justus raised his head.

The guard shook his head. “I’ve sensed it coming for some time. They have a new leader, and he is ruthless. His name is Yuri Marten, and he has made Calhi stronger than ever. They keep raiding the southern villages, and now they have decided to try for the castle.”

“Justus… do you think they’ll…” Jed began, then swallowed. “Is Father…?”

Justus’s eyes were sad. “Your father blocks Calhi’s way. He will fight- but I doubt he will survive. Unless God sends us a miracle…” he shook his head.

“What do you mean, ‘if God sends a miracle?’” Tilly asked. “Your God is loving, you said so yourself.”

Justus hesitated. “If it is His will, it shall be done,” he replied simply. “And I know it is His will that you two turn to Him eventually. You may fight Him, but He will draw you to Himself.”

And with that thought hanging in the air, Justus stood. “Now rest,’ he ordered. “You will need it. I am going to find out more. Stay here.”

It seemed like hours that he was gone. Finally, Tilly broke the silence. “You know, maybe he’s right about God being in control of all this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Justus has a light about him- a cheerfulness that can’t be ignored. A confidence unbroken. I’m beginning to believe in his god, to tell you the truth.”

Jed was about to reply when the door to their hiding place creaked open. “Justus?” he called out. There was no answer. A cold wind blew through the passage, and the candles blew out. The siblings stood, hands on the hilt of their swords. Then something hard hit Jed in the temple, and he knew no more.


What a lovely ending. Just to show how much I love keeping readers in suspense.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

The Heroes' Inheritance- Chapter One

Hola! Here, my impatient acquaintances, is Chapter One! Sorry for the utter lack of cliffhangers, but every book has slow parts. Love y'all.

A link to the prologue-

The Heroes' Inheritance-Prologue

Chapter One


“Mark, you’re doing it again.”

            Mark, who had been lost in thought, jumped at the sound of his sister’s voice, spilling green and yellow pea pods across his lap. “Hmm?”

            “You’re staring off into space.” She paced slowly towards him. “What’s on your mind? You’re working so fast I know you’re worried.”

            “I dreamed of them, Mara.”

            “Who, Mum and Dad?”


            She sighed. “It’s been three years, and you start having dreams now? Tell me about it,” she said, taking off her apron. “Do you want tea?”

            “Yes, please.” As his sister bustled around the small kitchen, Mark picked up another pea pod, snapping the pod between his fingers and extracting the tiny green peas. Tossing the shell into one bowl, he dropped the peas into a second, then moved on to the next pod.

            Work helped him to focus, giving his hands something to do while his thoughts wandered. Depending on his mood, his rate of progress changed. If he was bored, usually he would work slowly. But now, with worry fresh on his mind, he had made tremendous progress. The huge pot full of pea pods had been emptied more than halfway in the hour he had been sitting here.

            “Tell me your dream,” his twin said, sitting across from him and placing a mug of tea before him. She began shelling peas as well, working while she listened. As Mark related his dream, he remembered it in vivid detail…




A fiery mountain loomed before him, illuminating the rocky terrain in a red, flickering glow. Rivers of molten rock formed a network across a wide valley. In the shadow of the volcano stood a black castle, emanating evil. Overhead, the sky was filled with smoke and storm clouds, and dragons soared above the valley. Four free-standing towers stood a short distance from the fortress, crested with lookout posts. But their true purpose was clear- these towers were prisons.

            It was within one of these prisons that Mark’s dream-self walked to. Though the valley was teeming with dragons and humans, none of them seemed to see him, a fact which he was grateful for. In the first of the four towers, Mark discovered a winding staircase leading deep underground. Only when he reached the end of this passage did he find the place where his mother was imprisoned. She was there with about eight other women, half a dozen men, and a few children, all of them dirty-faced, skinny, and pale, as though they hadn’t emerged from their prison in a long time.

            Mark barely recognized his mother. Her blonde hair had lost its lustrous shine, and her face was gaunt and white, the skin stretched tight over her cheekbones. However, while the prisoners around her were dirty and wore tattered rags for clothing, Naia had obviously been cared for a bit during the last three years. She wore a clean dress and her hair and face were clean. She was curled up on her side on a ragged blanket, sound asleep.

            Unconsciously, Mark whispered his mother’s name. In an instant, the scene changed. Now he and his mother were standing alone in the room. This had happened to him once before, the last time he had dreamed of her. He didn’t completely understand it, but they both happened to be dreaming of each other at the same moment, so they met and could speak to each other.

            “My son,” she whispered. “Mark? How is it that you found this place in your dreams again?”

            “Mum.” His voice broke. “What is this place? Why are you here? You wouldn’t tell me anything last time. I want to help you.”

            His mother seemed as though she might explain everything. “Mark… if I tell you everything now it could endanger you and your sister. As much as I long for freedom, I will not tell you where I am. You may try to reach me, but you will walk straight into a trap set by my and your father’s enemies.”

            “Mum, it’s been three years. I can’t continue to watch you suffering like this. Isn’t there any way-”

            “No, Mark! If you come to this place you will die.’

            Mark was silent for a long moment. Then- “Where’s Dad?”

            Naia paled. “Our captor brought him away some time ago. I fear for him… Swiftviper has held a grudge against your father for some time. This happens often, Emil will disappear for an hour or so. Every time he comes back he is a little weaker, more of his magic gone.”

            “Who’s Swiftviper?” Mark paused. “And did you say magic?”

            Naia froze, as if just realizing what she had let slip. “Oh…. Nothing, Mark. Forget it. Now go back.”


She studied him for a long moment. Then she sighed. “Mark, your father and I are wizards.”

Mark stared at her. Was she really making a joke at a time like this? “Ah, Mum… are you…”

“I’m not crazy,” she said, smiling. “There is much we never told you, but your father and I are gifted with magic, as were our ancestors before us. You, my son, are gifted with the same power.”

Mark blinked, confused, then decided that this explained many of the hushed conversations he used to hear before his parents and uncle had been captured. “What about Mara?”

“Her as well, and Adam. The one who keeps us here is as well. Of course, now that you have this knowledge, I’ve put you in danger.” Naia looked stressed. “We are not there to give you the instruction you need, so there is something you must do.”

“What’s that?”

At that very moment, Mark heard the door open behind him. Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. He knew that only his mother could see him, but the presence of the newcomer seemed… evil. A chill went up his spine, and it seemed that his pounding heart could be heard echoing through the room.

Naia looked scared. “Mark, I am going to wake up. I will try to contact you or your sister, I promise.”

“Mum, I-”

Then he once more saw his mother sleeping on the ground. A cloaked figure which had just entered the room stood in its center and looked around. “Naia Farlander,” he muttered. Mark couldn’t see his face, but his voice was deep and strong.

The women clustered near Naia scooted surreptitiously in front of her, and Mark sensed that they felt a sort of protective loyalty towards her. But it was useless as the newcomer turned and looked right at Mark’s mother. “Get her up,” he said quietly.

“She-” began one of the women. But she was interrupted by the man, who muttered a curse under his breath and pushed the woman aside, seizing Naia by the hair and arm to jerk her to her feet. Mark’s mother let out a soft cry of pain. Her captor twisted her around and pushed her towards the door.  

Mark was horrified at this treatment of his mother. Who was this man? Mark couldn’t stand seeing anyone treat someone he loved in that manner.

But his mother and the stranger were gone. Mark’s vision began to fade.




When he finished relaying his dream, Mara’s face had gone white as a sheet. “Dear Father, how can they not want to get out of there?” she wondered aloud. “What do we know about the one holding them prisoner so far?”

“He used to know Dad. He holds a grudge against him for something. He’s in league with the dragons that took Mum and Dad.” Mark paused. “And Mara, he’s a wizard.”

She gave him a look that made it clear she thought he was insane. “You really believe our parents are wizards too?”

“What else can I believe?” he asked. “It explains a lot. And why would they lie to us?”




When the twins finally finished the peas, Mara straightened and studied Mark. “You’re too stressed,” she said. “I know something that might cheer you up. There’s a swordplay tournament in the village tomorrow. You should go, loosen up, have some fun, and train while you’re doing it.”

He considered it for a long moment, and finally the thought of a break from the daily routine won him over. “Fine. I think I’ll ride to Adam’s and get him to be my practice dummy.”

She gave him a hard look. “Or you could spar with me.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You want to spar? With me?”

“I just said that, brother dear. Now get your behind out of my kitchen. And I know you’re eyeing the pie, but don’t even think about it.”

Mark guiltily headed for the door.


Will Emil and Naia survive their imprisonment? Is it true that Mark and Mara are really wizards? And who is this evil stranger that holds their parents captive?

Friday, April 14, 2017

The Heroes' Inheritance- Prologue

Okay, diverting from The King Above All Kings for a minute! Here's the prologue to a book I'm working on right now, called The Heroes' Inheritance.

The Heroes' Inheritance
By Elena Iren


Naia Farlander watched with a worried expression as her teenage son sparred. The boy had shaggy dark hair, which he pushed out of his face as he stumbled backward. A breathless smile graced his handsome features, and a light of determination shone in his brown eyes. He was armed with a dulled practice sword, as was his opponent. As he swung the sword, it was obvious from his firm stance and easy grip on the weapon that he was a natural swordsman.

While his opponent was, beyond doubt, skilled, he was no match for the strikes and thrusts that came his way. Naia knew that her son was the more skilled of the two- after all, Mark had been trained since a young age to handle the weapon. His opponent, his cousin Adam, wasn’t doing too badly- he would have beaten Naia if he had tried. But against Mark, few could stand.

Finally Mark disarmed his cousin, and Adam, unscathed but out of breath, gave his cousin a weary smile and a mock salute. Mark tossed his cousin back the practice blade, then turned away, a lazy smile on his face.

Naia knew her son didn’t think she could see him. She knew he wasn’t a naturally proud person- like his father, Mark was humble. Most of the time, anyway. She tapped her husband on the shoulder and gestured to their son. “I do believe that his pride could use a bit of a blow,” she whispered.

Emil was silent for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “I vaguely recall you giving my pride a bit of a blow when I used to pick on Caleb. Why can’t you do it now?”

She gave him a look. “Have you seen how that boy fights? If he beats his own mother I’ll never live it down.”

“True,” Emil replied. “I assume you want me to spar him?”

“That would be preferable,” she muttered. “Go quickly, while the memory of victory is still on his mind.”

Before them, Mark stretched. “Who’s next?” he called. “No one?”

“Give it up, Mark,” called his twin sister, Mara, from the porch of their family’s cottage.

“Never!” he called back.

“Aargh!” she grunted. “You’re such a boy!”

“You sound disappointed.”

Emil stepped quietly over to Adam. “May I borrow that?” he asked softly, pointing to the practice sword.

Adam paused, then seemed to understand. A triumphant smile lit up his face as he handed his uncle the blade. Emil swung it a few times, then nodded in satisfaction. Twirling it lightly between his fingers, he walked casually towards Mark.

“My turn,” he called out mildly.

Mark turned towards the sound of his father’s voice and paled a bit. Then he straightened. “All right,” he said. His tone sounded a bit less than eager. He unsheathed the practice blade once more.

As Emil proceeded to, as Naia had described it, ‘give his son’s pride a blow,’ Naia heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Marianna standing there, watching the duel in amusement. Her sister-in-law’s red hair was tied back in a kerchief, and an apron was tied around her waist.

“How’s Mara doing?” Naia asked her.

Marianna turned a pair of beautiful green eyes towards her. “I’m truly surprised by how far she’s come,” the other woman said brightly. “I do believe she’s outdone my blackberry pie.” Her voice was laced with a slight Northern accent, a sign of her Bretanian roots. “Of course, I haven’t told her that yet.”

They both laughed, and the noise drew the attention of Caleb Farlander, Marianna’s husband and Emil’s brother. He strode over to them, putting an arm around his wife’s waist. “What’s going on out there?” he asked, motioning to his brother and nephew, who were locked together in their match.

“Emil’s giving Mark a taste of his own medicine,” said Naia.

“I can’t say that the boy didn’t need it,” Caleb admitted.

The duel was abruptly ended as Emil disarmed Mark and walked off with both swords. Mark followed, protesting, but he was interrupted by Mara’s voice as she called from the porch. “Aunt Marianna! Stew’s ready!”

Mark froze, then his eyes lit up at the mention of food. He headed in the direction of the house, but Naia caught his arm and pushed him towards the table set up outdoors. “I will not have you tormenting your sister while she works,” she told her son firmly.

“But I wasn’t….” his protest died on his lips as he saw her expression. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s better. Go sit down.”

Naia gazed at her daughter with pride as Mara carefully carried out the huge pot of lamb stew. The fourteen-year-old girl was followed by Marianna, who carried a loaf of bread in one hand and a mound of yellow butter on a plate in the other. Mara returned to the house and returned carrying a blackberry pie of tremendous proportions. As outrageously large as the pie was, it looked and smelled heavenly.

Once the rest of the fold had been laid out, Mara and her aunt took their seats as well. The family joined hands, linking together around the table. Then Caleb bowed his head. “Thanks be to the Father, who placed us here, protected us though these years, and gave us this food.” He paused. “And thank You for giving me a niece that can make such an amazing blackberry pie.”

A ripple of laughter went around the table as the seven people straightened and began talking. The pie and the stew proved to be some of Mara’s best work, and the girl received heavy praise from her entire family, even Marianna, though the woman was feeling a little disgruntled over losing her place as the family’s baker. Marianna’s accent grew thicker when she became excited, so her ramblings of admiration became a bit muddled.

When every trace of the food was gone, they leaned back, drowsy from the large meal and all in good spirits. Air felt herself beginning to doze off, when Emil tapped her shoulder. “Do you want to go for a walk? Caleb’s coming, but Marianna wants to stay behind.”

Naia nodded, and stood. Taking her husband’s arm, she walked with him and Caleb away from the noise. Inhaling deeply, she sighed. “Can you believe how different our lives are now?” she asked.

“From Liphaeum?” Emil asked.

“Yes. Imagine what we would have said had we known we’d be parents with children of our own one day.”

“How about something along the lines of ‘You need an asylum?’” Caleb said dryly.

Emil shrugged. “Someday we’ll go back. But not yet. I’m happy to let Andrew Swiftviper grow old and weak in the meantime.”

They fell silent. Then a thought struck Naia. “He’s probably thinking the same thing about you. We all were a thorn in his side for so long…”

“Remember when we found him trying to get into the castle through the kitchens?” Caleb asked. “Naia’s magic flipped him upside down and suspended him from the ceiling. He was trying to give orders, but your befuddlement charm kept him from thinking clearly. He ended up sending half his men out of the castle instead of further in.”

Naia began to laugh at the memory. “Good Father, he was so angry.”

As the three of them laughed, Naia felt a vague cold sensation at the base of her neck. She stopped. “Emil.”

He stopped beside her and gazed into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Her heart pounded. She heard a steady thump, thump, and thought it was her heart. Then a shadow passed over the shore. Caleb cursed. “Naia, Emil, run!” he cried, tearing out for the house at full speed.

Naia looked up as Emil half dragged her alongside him as he ran. There, in the sky, was something that looked like a cross between a bird and a snake- with a long snout, yellow slit eyes, a long, scarlet-scaled body and barbed tail, and great crimson, leathery wings. Naia saw the hatred in the dragon’s eyes and recognized the huge creature instantly. Anduin. No!

Ahead of them, she saw Caleb being plucked up into the air by a smaller green dragon, and she heard herself scream, “NO!” Then Emil was jerked from her grasp, and she let out a hoarse scream of denial. She crumpled to the ground, sobbing, sure her husband was doomed to death at the claws of Anduin, his old enemy.

She was still crying when sharp, cold talons snatched her up as well. Her vision blurred, then everything went black.


Aannnd.... sorry for the cliffhanger, folks! I gotta do what I gotta do.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

The King Above All Kings: Part 2!

Yo, wassup? Here's part two of my story!
And a link to Part 1!
The King Above All Kings: Part 1

“No!” gasped Tilly. Her face was as white as a sheet.

Jed’s thoughts swirled confusedly through his head, and he stepped backward. The Empire of Calhi was a nation of warriors, once barbarians but now adopting something resembling civilized ways. They were the kingdom of Dursia’s deadliest enemy, constantly trying to enter the kingdom by the south border.

Suddenly Jed’s mind cleared. “Where’s Father and Mother?”

Justus grimaced. “The queen has been locked in her chambers. The king is fighting with the guards. I was ordered to get you two to safety. We must leave the castle.”

“No,” replied the siblings in unison. “I’ll stay.” The next instant, they faced each other.

“You can’t stay!” Jed exclaimed.

“Why not?” she demanded.

“You’re a girl!” he replied.

She gave him a look that said, Did you really just say that?

“Anyway, why can’t I stay?” he continued.

She sighed. “Because if you die, I have to be queen. My schedule’s a bit full at the moment.”

“Neither of you are staying,” Justus said tiredly, sheathing his sword. “Follow me.”

The siblings glanced at each other, then at Justus. His eyes were dead serious. “You both know that I can force you to come with me,” he said in a low voice. “I suggest you cooperate.”

Grudgingly, they nodded, and Jed returned their fencing foils to their place, retrieving his and Tilly’s real weapons. Tossing Tilly her blade, he buckled his own into place. “Lead on, Justus.”

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Living Waters by Kristyn Getty!

Here's a song I found a few weeks ago. I loved it instantly! Here's my own cover of it!
First, the lyrics-

“Are you thirsty
Are you empty
Come and drink these living waters
Tired and broken
Peace unspoken
Rest beside these living waters

Christ is calling
Find refreshing
At the cross of living waters
Lay your life down
All the old gone
Rise up in these living waters

There’s a river that flows
With mercy and love
Bringing joy to the city of our God
There our hope is secure
Do not fear anymore
Praise the Lord of living waters

Spirit moving
Mercy washing
Healing in these living waters
Lead your children
To the shore line
Life is in these living waters


Are you thirsty
Are you empty
Come and drink these living waters
Love, forgiveness
Vast and boundless
Christ, He is our living waters

— Words and Music by Kristyn Getty and Ed Cash©2016 Getty Music Publishing (BMI) / Alletrop Music (BMI) (admin by

And now, the video! Here's a link!

Living Waters Cover

The Basics of Nerdiness






Sunday, April 2, 2017

The King Above All Kings Collage!

Is. This. Not. Awesome?

I found an awesome collage app and have been having WAY too much fun. I have rights to none of these pictures, so please do not publish this image elsewhere.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

The King Above All Kings- My New Story!

Hey y'all! Recently I decided to enter the Bunyan Fiction Writing Contest, a Christian short story writing competition! I entered today, and finished the story last night! I wanted some more feedback, so here is a small portion of it! I may post more later....:)

The King Above All Kings
by Elle Vines (my real name. Or is it?)

When he first heard the news that his home was in danger, Jedediah Marten was fencing with his sister Tiliana in the castle training area. A skilled swordswoman, Tilly was among the most skilled knights in the kingdom of Dursia. Yes, a knight. Ever since their father, the king, had decreed that women could train as knights, many women of the kingdom had stepped up to be trained as warriors. Jed’s own uncle, Lord Sebastian, trained the knights at the Kimeni Battle Academy.

While Jed was two years older than his nineteen-year-old sister and had the bulk of a well-trained warrior, Tilly was the best competition he had. He was fully aware that she could defeat him easily if he let down his guard, as she could half the male knights in the kingdom. Now, as they fought, sweat beaded on his forehead and his chest heaved, while his sister breathed evenly and wielded her sword with one steady hand.

At last she disarmed him, sending his fencing foil clattering to the ground. She raised the tip of her sword to rest lightly on his sternum. “Dead,” she stated flatly. “If I were a soldier of Calhi, your head would no longer be attached to your body, let us say. If I were of Galen, you would be a slave.”

Jed grinned sheepishly. “Thank you for letting me keep my head.”

Before she could reply, the door to the training chamber opened, and a lone guard burst into the room. Breathing heavily, he dashed across the room, dropping to his knees at Jed’s feet. “Your Highness,” he gasps.

“Justus,” Jed exclaimed. “What’s wrong? Are you well?”

The middle-aged, blond man shook his head, fear filling his eyes. Jed was shocked. Justus DeFinne was the captain of the castle guard, and one of the bravest men he had ever met. To see terror in the big man’s face was a bit unnerving. If it boded ill for Justus, it boded ill for them all.

“The… castle,” panted Justus. “Calhi is… taking… over.”

One Thing I Forgot To Mention

OH YEAH- I will continue posting The Heroes' Inheritance on this blog. Updates may be a bit sporadic, but I'll keep writing it. El...