Some Exciting News

Excerts

It has been way too long since I have posted. But in my defense I have been very busy writing. What have I been writing? Well…lots of stuff but mainly I have been working with writing partner Mark on our Hell Hole Tavern series. It is near completion and next week we will be airing our first pod cast. Yep. Podcasting. That is what we are doing with it.

This has been such a labor of love. We have around 30 chapters, more if we can’t reign in our imaginations, and have left lots of room for additional stories. All the lose ends, the mismatched descriptions (I have a character who has had three different eye colors ;D), the inconsistency in places and times, and just other general stuff that has happened because we have been on again and off again. It has been very intense. We originally started this in 2002/3. So you can see why this is such a relief to be getting done. But we had our reasons.

For one, I needed time to grow back into my writing skin. When I got married I put down my pen and pad because my husband thought it was a stupid dream. But he is no longer around. I am free to be who I was meant to be.

Another thing, both Mark and myself have suffered some pretty hard times emotionally.
Ÿ I lost my husband in 2003, his wife got deathly ill at the end of 2003 (and still is not well)
Ÿ In 2004 my daughter fell off the edge because of her father’s death and I quit my job to take care of her and my mother (she had a heart attack and was told there was nothing left they could do for her COPD) and Mark’s wife slipped further into her illness and he into his worry
Ÿ 2005 brought more pain with the death of mother in Sept. and the death of my father in Dec. and my near financial ruin by not be able to work (living on Social Security Death benefits just don’t cut it)
Ÿ 2006 was sad for Mark because he lost his mother in October. It hit him pretty hard. He had to honor his mother’s wishes to not resuscitate after she had her heart attack. My dearest Mark, what a strong person you are.

So, as you can see, through all the down hill slides, we have kept working on this, kept improving, kept going forward. And we made it.

Mark signed with Swimming Kangaroo last month. His book, Isabellan Enticement, is due out the first part of January 2008. Very excited for him. Very excited for us too because his editor will be looking at Tales From the Hell Hole Tavern in a couple months. They are kind of busy and have their hands full but are interested in hearing more about our joint project. They would also like to hear our podcast. Good news for us!

Sure hope it fly’s. Sure hope I can get all the recordings done. I don’t have a very hi-fi place to make my recordings and getting my daughter to be quiet long enough for me to get something done requires either an act of congress or a miracle of God! I’d be happy with either one at this point.

I have included an excerpt from one of the chapters of the book. Hope whoever looks enjoys what they see and comes to Pod Cast Alley to download the first chapter of Tales from The Hell Hole Tavern.

See Ya!



Hell Bound - By Elizabeth Draper

Anithia stood beside her daughter at the entrance to the underworld. Behind her, the sounds of battle raged through the city and the voices of the dead and dying drifted to her on cold rancid air. Her body shook with both fear and apprehension. A small warm hand grasped her cold fingers.

“Be strong. Together we can conquer anything.” Missa spoke to her, her voice not her own but that of the goddess Anothosia. Missa looked different as well. A white light surrounded her fragile child’s body and her hair was no longer braided. Instead, it flowed in long waves down her back, nearly touching the floor. In one hand, she carried a silver staff that stood two feet higher than her four foot three frame, and at her hip she carried the sword of truth. Its polished ivory handle shimmered with its own life and a strange humming emanated from it—like it was singing. Sometimes, the goddess hummed along.

“Is Missa still in there with you?” Anithia asked.

“Yes. I have not harmed her, nor will any harm come to her that I can prevent, but Anithia, beloved daughter, we are going to war.” The goddess squeezed Ani’s hand then dropped it back down to the hilt of the sword. It sang louder. “She says ‘she loves you and not to worry. Her father is watching over you both.’”

Anithia’s stomach churned. Missa was with Larson? She wanted to cry. It had been so long since she had talked to her baby. It frightened her to know Missa and Larson were together. Larson was dead. Was Missa?

“Is she—is she—“ Ani couldn’t finish the question because she was too afraid of the answer.

The goddess gazed up at her, a sweet smile, so much like Missa’s own, spread serenely across her face. “She is fine. I simply cannot reside in her body with her soul in it. She has such a big soul that there is not enough room for the both of us. Her soul is—elsewhere, but part of her is still in my mind, directing me on how to use her gift.”

Ani gulped back tears and nodded. This was not the time to be weak. “Are you sure that just the two of us will be enough against Zorce and his minions?”

“We are not alone Anithia. You have the grace and the power of Omitan within your soul. His followers wait to be awakened by your song once we gain entrance. I have my faithful servant waiting for us as well.”

Ani fell silent. Anothosia’s words did not assure her. She did not feel like the all powerful god she served was inside her. How could Omitan’s followers already be within the gates? Surely they would have been discovered by now; discovered and killed?

“It is time.” The goddess stepped over the threshold of the entrance. Ani followed. It was dark and cold. The smell of misery and death hung thick in the air, clawing at Ani’s body and mind. Evil permeated everything. It was hard to breathe. The air felt oily and viscous.

“Deep, slow breaths Ani. Don’t let this place take you off your guard. If you let it, Hell will suck you down and never let you go.” The smile had faded from her daughter’s face. She now looked serious, focused.

Ani took a deep breath and tried to think about all the people who were counting on her. She thought of the sacrifice Calto and the Queen were making, of all the innocent people who fought on their side. Most of all, she thought of Missa and Larson. They watched her from somewhere very far away. She wanted to show them both how strong she had become. She wanted to show Larson that she had found her faith and overcome the obstacles Hell had placed in her way. Ani wanted to make them both proud.

She would not falter. She would not give in. She would not give up.

Anithia raised her chin and pulled her shoulders back square. She was the High Priestess of Omitan. She had come to deliver some pay back for the burning of Lokmir Forest and the killing of its inhabitants and caretakers. And for poor Starlight, who gave her own life in exchange for Ani’s.

“That’s it Ani,” the goddess whispered within her mind. “Feel your power flow through you like the songs of the great rivers that cut into the land, letting nothing stand in their way. Remember the people who believe in you and need you; feel their strength, hear the songs of their souls.”

Ani calmed her inner senses. The evil trying to steal her strength cried out, flailed at her defenses, and seeped away, becoming nothing more than background noise. Her inner melody became a rhythmic and solid beat. She began to build on this beat. She formed it into a white-hot glowing ball deep in her stomach, pulsating and alive. When the time was right, she would release it upon Zorce’s legions, annihilating them all, making them sorry for what they had done.

A brilliant white light shone from the moonstone that sat atop Anothosia’s Staff of Justice. It pushed back the inky darkness engulfing the road they walked. It warmed the air around them. As they drew closer, the path took on a distinctive shape, outlined by a reddish orange light. The remains of the victims of the Hellhounds and the demons were strewn carelessly about. Stray bits of bone and cloth, a shoe without a match, and even a cloth doll lay on the path before them. It was a gruesome sight and she knew it was only going to get worse the closer they got to the gates of Zorce’s Hell.

As they went deeper and the sights became more grisly, the sense that whatever the price, whatever the pain, Zorce had to be defeated, became clear and strong in Ani’s soul. She looked down at her baby walking beside her and felt a deep and biting sadness in that truth. They could die here, she and Missa, and the goddess along with them. They could die.

Whatever the cost...whatever the pain.

Was she ready for the cost this venture might ask of her? Was she willing to risk her own life’s blood and that of her daughter’s?

Unto to this world we are born with a destiny, a path that we all must walk. We are born to die in a specific manner and for a particular reason. How we walk it, either with great honor and strength or with deep shame and cowardice, are the only real choices we have.

Larson once said those words to her. She hadn’t understood them at the time. Now she did. She realized he had said them to her knowing that a day like this would come. He said them, to his beloved, with the foreknowledge that she might have to make this journey. The whole time they were together, he worked at preparing her for this. He molded her mind and shaped her soul, nurturing them both with his unending love and cautious wisdom. Her stubborn hero of a husband had worked to make her a hero too—only she was not doing this to be a hero. She was doing it because it needed to be done. Larson, she suspected, had felt the same way.

Larson had died doing his duty. He had died knowing few regrets, knowing that the world was a better place because he lived. It was a thin legacy, a hollow one without honor or glory or fame.

It was enough for her husband. It would be enough for her too. Ani firmed her resolve and fastened her eyes on the black gates. They were close. Too close.

They reached the gate. The goddess stopped walking. Her eyes were sad as she gazed upon the site before them. To either side were hundreds of crucified victims of the hell gods’ wrath. Ani tried to jerk her eyes away from the sight of impaled men, women, and children, but she could not. Her eyes kept coming back to their desecrated bodies, hanging forlorn and forgotten, praying she would not see someone she knew. She forced herself to look at the horrors on the gate, to look at the hell born Zorce had hung there because he thought himself betrayed.

Ani gasped, her hand flew to her mouth.

There, hanging with all of his organs exposed, was Mercktos. A rope, wrapped around his body, held him spread eagle on the gate. Ani looked into a ruined face. She shivered. He had no eyes and all the flesh had been peeled back from the bone. Maggots and scarabs crawled over his body, eating away at his remains. She had hated Mercktos once, hated him for taking her baby, but in the end, he was the one who saved Missa, sacrificing his soul, saving them all.

Ani looked away horrified and sickened. This piteous creature, disemboweled, dismembered, was once Zorce’s second in command, his greatest source of inflicting pain upon humanity; now he was nothing but bits and pieces of rotted meat. Even when she had hated the devil, she had never wanted him to suffer a death like this.

Anithia quickly turned away and threw up. When she had emptied the contents of her stomach, dry heaves wracked her body, leaving her weak and afraid. After long moments, she stood, but could only stare at the goddess.

“My poor sweet Paladin.” Anothosia walked up to the gate and laid her hand upon what was left of the devil’s leg.

Anithia hugged herself, her empty stomach spasmed. How could the goddess touch him?

“You have suffered greatly for me. Your sacrifice will not go un-rewarded.”

Anothosia drew the sword from her hip and sliced through the rope. Mercktos’ body fell to the ground in a pile of festering flesh and broken bones.

His hand twitched. Ani jumped.

“Oh my god! He isn’t still alive is he?” She couldn’t imagine anyone or anything surviving the torment she witnessed now.

“His body is still that of a devil, so he can not truly be destroyed this close to hell without using—unusual methods. Zorce probably ordered him tortured until near death and then hung here to heal. Then, when he was coherent, they did it all over again.”

Ani looked at Mercktos. Tears of compassion and sorrow trickled down her cheeks. If he had not betrayed Zorce, Tessla would never have found Missa and Anothosia would have been destroyed.

“Do not cry. I am not going to leave him to this fate.” Anothosia looked at Anithia; a calm and reassuring expression upon her face. “I made him a promise in my garden. I promised he would be my Paladin again, and that he shall be.”

Anothosia took her staff in both hands and turned Mercktos over so his gaping chest lay face up. The staff began to burn a brilliant white. She pressed its end into the remnants of Mercktos’ heart.

The heart shivered. It quivered. Fibers whipped out of the broken chamber, weaving, intertwining, forming healthy muscle and becoming whole. It began to beat. Anothosia bent down and plucked the beating heart from Mercktos’ chest. She held it aloft in her hands, perfect and whole.

The goddess pointed her still blazing staff at the rest of Mercktos’ body and set it a flame. In moments, it was nothing but ash.

“My goddess, I thought you were going to heal his body?” Missa said, surprised. What chance was there now of redeeming the devil? Anothosia had destroyed any hope of his resurrection.

The goddess gave Ani a wide smile, one that reminded her of Missa. She laughed. “That flesh was born from the pits of Hell. To keep my promise, Mercktos needs flesh of my flesh. He needs a new body to house his refurbished soul. I kept his heart because it was the only thing that was pure.”

Ani wasn’t sure what she meant, but who was she to question the ways of the gods.

In the distance, a howl sounded. They had been discovered.

“Well, whatever it is you’re going to do, you better do it now.” Ani looked nervously past the gates to the red sky beyond. The sound of clacking jaws and scrabbling claws echoed in the distance. As far away as they were, there had to be thousands of jaws clacking and claws scrabbling if she could already hear them.

Anothosia nodded once and turned her attention to the beating heart. She put both her staff and the heart on the ground before her and stepped back. She took her sword and drew it across the palm of her hand. Bits of bright light poured from her hand, spilling onto Mercktos’ heart. The heart beat faster, it expanded, refreshed, grew flesh and bone. It formed the beginnings of a body.

Ani looked on in awe, as Mercktos the Devil was reborn into Mercktos the Paladin. Anothosia gave her staff a tap. She whispered words of power too dire, too complex, for Ani to understand. Light shivered, and a wondrous sight lay before them.

A giant of a man lay on the ground, adorned in platinum armor. His hair fanned out around his head like a pool of liquid silver. His face was smooth and strong, his lips were full and kissable. His eyes opened.

“Arise, Paladin. Receive your weapon and my blessings.” Anothosia laid the Sword of Truth across her opened palms.

Mercktos stood up, a smile upon his face, his eyes a brilliant sea green. He was huge. Ani guessed him at no less then eight feet. “My goddess.” His voice poured from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet. “I knew you would come for me. I knew you would keep your promise. Thank you.”

A warmth stirred in Ani’s belly she had not felt since last she made love to Larson.

Anothosia smiled--warmth and joy flowing from her being. “I keep my promises. I forsake none. Here.” She stretched the sword out to the Paladin. “Take this. It is the sword of truth and will kill all in its path. No hell creature may stand before it. It is good to welcome you back…to bring you home.”

Mercktos took the mighty weapon in his hand and gripped it tightly in his fist. A flash of light streaked from the tip of the sword, down its length and into his body. It seemed to grow to fit his height. What was once a short sword fit for a woman to carry, had now become long and powerful, fit for the giant standing before them. The Paladin’s eyes flashed with power. “I will not fail you my goddess. And never again shall I be lead astray.”

Anothosia nodded once and then held out her hands again. The air shimmered. Bits of light swirled between her palms until they formed a white plumed, silver helmet. The face mask was that of a phoenix, with an overlay of gold.

Mercktos took the helmet from her and nodded his approval. He placed it on his head.

Anithia was amazed. He was beautiful. She had never seen a man more handsome, more powerful. He looked like a god. Ani swallowed nervously. She wanted to touch him, feel the power beneath the armor. Mercktos turned his ocean eyes upon her, and Ani was sure she was could melt into a puddle at his feet. Her whole body tingled.

“Are you ready Ani?” Anothosia had turned her gaze upon her. “I told you that Omitan’s followers were already here, and they are. All that is needed is for you and I too sing them awake. However, we must wait until Zorce’s forces are almost to the gates.”

“Hmm?” Ani blushed, having been caught ogling the goddess’ servant, then belated nodded. “I understand.”

Amusement danced in Anothosia’s eyes. “I do good work huh?”

Anithia’s face burned. “Um—yes, you do.”

Anothosia nodded, still smirking.

Ani looked away. Now was not the time to think such thoughts. She took up position on the goddess’ left and Mercktos to Anothosia’s right. In the distance hundreds of misshapen bodies scrabbled over each other in their attempt to be the first to tear the flesh from the intruder’s bones. It looked like a living, massive, beast, wriggling, seething, searching.

Ani’s lust turned to fear; all thoughts of beauty and body parts washing away in an instant. She knew she shouldn’t be afraid but she couldn’t help it. Without thinking, Ani turned to the goddess and hugged her. She pretended the small body was still her baby and kissed Anothosia’s soft hair.

“I love you Missa. Mommy loves you.”

Anothosia hugged her back and for one precious, and all too brief moment, Ani felt her sweet child’s presence.

“Have courage Mommy. Daddy and I love you.”

Anithia struggled to catch her breath. She shut her eyes tight against the threat of tears. She wouldn’t cry—not now. She would save her tears for when the war was over, because this was it. This was their last stand. It was all or nothing and if they didn’t win, sorrow was all that any living human would ever know. They would all drown in a river of tears and blood.

The screeching, howling and yelling was almost deafening now. The stench was horrendous. The acrid smell of sulfur clogged her nose as well as the scents of unwashed bodies and rotted meat. Ani wondered if she would ever breathe fresh air again.

They took a step forward. Ani braced herself. Within moments, the hell born horde arrived.

Silence.

Dead, horrible, complete silence.

Ani held her breath, ready to release the power of her voice. She would blast them with everything she had—if her voice worked. It felt tight, powerless. She looked upon wave after wave of hell born. Thousands of them. Millions, maybe. She did not know. They were a blur of forms and shapes and faces. Some leaped. Some crawled. Some flew on great leathery bat wings.

A growling started in the back of the horde. The army began to part down the middle. Zorce strode amongst his amassed strength, a two-headed hellhound in hand, straining against its leash.

Zorce took only moments to reach the gates. His huge body towered over his servants, bulging and pulsing with power. Each muscle rippled and moved of its own accord, as if they were living things about to leap from his body. Long black claws, like daggars, extended from the ends of his fingers, clacking and flexing in anticipation. He was naked. Ani looked at his sex and paled. She could not imagine any woman surviving what he would offer them. Even a gentle touch would make fingers bleed. It oozed, bubbled, and steamed viscous yellow pus.

Zorce followed the direction of her gaze. He looked at her, pointed at his member, pointed at Ani, and smiled.

Ani felt fear like she had never known before. Her knees grew weak and she wanted to turn and run. A blanket of darkness fell upon her. She swayed unsteadily. But as quickly as the shadow came, Anothosia dispelled it with a wave of her staff. A white burst of energy broke from the moonstone and washed away whatever spell had Ani in its grip. Her fear subsided, slipped away from her soul. She no longer felt like she wanted to cower and hide.

Zorce laughed, deep and threatening. “A very fine trick goddess. But that pathetic little staff of yours won’t save you once I open these gates. Once they have torn you to shreds, I will unleash my army upon the world above. Unhindered.”

His smile was victorious, his eyes lit with Hell’s black hatred. To Ani it seemed he thought he was already King of the world above. The three before him mattered not.

But Anothosia did not waiver. She smiled and it was like seeing the sun come up, lighting the horizon with its warm orange and yellow rays, nourishing the earth. In that smile, all of life unfolded before Ani. She felt renewed and strengthened in her purpose. She felt like the impossible was possible.

“Still the same old rhetoric,” Anothosia noted. “I would have thought you would have used the centuries since our last meeting, to develop better dialogue and more impressive threats. Surely you don’t think I came so ill prepared, not after what I’ve been through to get here?” She tilted her head quizzically to the side, her expression unchanging.

Zorce narrowed his eyes. They slid to the left, then to the right. “I count three of you. A used up ex-devil, a halfling goddess, and a nature freak. Are you trying to tell me that’s all you think you need?”

Zorce’s laughter started deep in his stomach and erupted out of his mouth like an explosion. His whole body shook. The horde started to laugh, and then oddly, so did Anothosia.

Anithia looked at the goddess in shock. What was so funny? Why was she laughing? She didn’t understand, and neither apparently, did Zorce.

Zorce ordered silence. The only one left laughing was Anothosia.

“You laugh goddess—why?” Zorce’s jaw thrust forward. His overly developed chest muscles bulged. “You think my threats aren’t real?”

Anothosia stopped laughing and visibly composed herself. “Oh yes, of course I do. I just think it’s funny and a bit odd that you waited until the last moment to send reinforcements to the surface. I also find it amusing that you have your entire force bottlenecked at the Gate. Honestly, could you have made it any easier for me?” The goddess’ smile slowly lost its sweet nature and became sinister.

Ani tensed. She could feel the build up of power in the goddess’ staff. The sword in Mercktos’ hand began to hum louder. It was almost time.

Zorce felt it as well. His large black eyes widened in surprise. The god of hatred now realized his folly.

But before he could command his troops back away from the gate, Anothosia let loose her vengeance. Her voice rose high, strong, and unbelievably powerful. The combination of both Missa’s gift and the goddess’ own strength blew the first hundred feet of Hell creatures into complete nothingness. Others tumbled back, broke into pieces, and died. The air was suddenly filled with war cries, cries of pain, screams, roars, and the sound of breaking reality. Anothosia’s voice drowned it all out, overrode it, surmounted and surpassed it. Her voice, gentled, quieted, stopped.

Zorce was untouched. He had thrown a protective shield up around himself. Anothosia’s attack had left only scorch marks on his arms and torso. He sneered.

“Now, Ani,” Anothosia ordered, “sing to the seeds that Omitan planted. Bring our allies to life!” Exuberance emanated from her voice. She was in her element and drunk on the power of the song. This was her first real test of her power combined with Missa’s gift.

Anithia started to sing. She sang of life and the joy in living it. She let her voice carry past the gates of Hell, over the diamond paved streets, and into all the hidden crevices. She made her voice rise above the screams and roars. Her notes searched for the seeds that Omitan had spread in his flight. She saw them in her mind’s eye. She sensed their presence with her melody. Her voice touched each one and gave it life with her song.

Over the rocky and barren landscape of Hell, the seeds of Omitan sprang forth from nothing, nourished only on the Song of Life that poured from the heart and soul of Omitan’s offspring. Whole trees sprang to life, seeds from the ancient forest of Lokmir. And from those trees came the gelfs, the sprites, the tree stalkers, the selkies and numerous other servants of Omitan, each ready to defend the forests and the people who called them their home; each ready to avenge the deaths of their brethren.

Chaos erupted as the trees themselves took vengeance on those who had destroyed their ancestors, ravaging the earth and raping its bounty. Branches reached down and pounded Hells’ creatures into bloodied piles of pulp.

From above, two-headed, winged monsters spit acid upon the trees and all below, hitting some of their own as well.

Ani sang on, pushing her voice deeper into Hell, realizing that it was not only the trees she was singing to life but all the hell spawn children trapped in Hell unwillingly because they were sacrificed for another’s greed, her song coursing through their broken bodies, healing gaping wounds, giving them fresh hope. And as each Hell spawn was filled with that which was forgotten, they turned upon their tormentors, fighting them with everything they had.

Cries of surprise and anguish filled the air as the ground became covered in black, red and green blood. Hell’s diamonds lost their sheen and became slick underfoot.

And as the battle raged on, for what seemed forever, the flow of Hell kind ebbed farther and farther back into Hell. Their numbers decreased. Their retreat was slowed by the very spawn they had tortured.

Ani swayed. She felt drained. But what had she expected, she thought? Each bit of life their side gained, she lost. She fed them with her own energy, her own soul. And Ani only had so much to give before there was nothing left. She was a stopgap to the horde, a blind alley meant to hold them in check while the real battle raged.

Fire and light still battled on beside her, raw energy sizzled upon the air. Neither Zorce nor Anothosia had gained ground. Ani tensed, grew anxious, as the scene before her seemed to go on perpetually, as if it would last until the stars fell from the sky. But it her worry was short lived as it all stopped.

Roiling energies faded away, seeping back into the ones who spawned it. Anothosia stood beside her, sweat drenched, bleeding from her nose and ears. Sagging. Anithia refrained from grabbing her and mothering her. From the other side of the gate, Zorce glared hate, seething in his anger, but he looked little better. His front was drenched in blood. His body was charred, battered; only the fieriness in his eyes had not abated.

Zorce roared—

Ani jumped.

—and he charged the gates.

He crashed into the bone barrier. The sound of his impact reverberated through Hell, sending tingling sensations deep into Anithia’s eardrums, making them feel as if they would burst. The gates trembled. They shivered and vibrated. Zorce struck them again, hitting them with lightning from his horns and blows from his fists, shaking the earth beneath her feet as the mighty barriers between the god forsaken and the yet to be judged, came crashing down, hinges screeching, bones snapping—

Anothosia staggered.

Everything paused.

Ani’s voice quieted. The roars ceased. Only a few dying screams remained. Ani was so tired, so exhausted, she doubted she could turn and run to save her life. There was no way for her except forward, into hell, into the arms of a being who desired almost nothing more than he desired to gain control of her soul. She drew in a fresh breath, and sang once more, but it was too late.

The sudden stilling had been the lull before the storm. As Hell’s creatures realized they were no longer bottled up, they began to stream toward the gate, unhindered in their mad rush to escape the slaughter behind them.

Ani dived to the side as Zorce’s hound lunged for her. Her song stopped abruptly, her energy seemed to drain into the ground.

Hell was unleashed…and it was all her fault.