Bring it Back(list) - Soul of Kandrith

 CONFESSION TIME: I have no idea how to market this book. No. Clue. Whatsoever.

First of all it's the second in a duology and the very blurb has spoilers for book one, Gate to Kandrith. So if you hate spoilers and haven't heard of book one, then go here.

Secondly, there's the cover which I both love and hate. It's a great cover, stunning and bold. I love the way it's framed and the red tones. It telegraphs that this is a fantasy novel quite well. But it looks as if the book is about a sword-swinging barbarian. In fact my hero is a healer. There is only one scene in which he picks up a sword--and after seeing the cover I tweaked the scene slightly so that I could tell myself the man was in fact Lance.

Third, there's the content. The book starts off with Sara having lost her soul and trying to regain it. the ending is happy, but it goes to some very dark places in which she is enslaved and, yes, raped. It feels unfair to encourage people to buy the book without including a Trigger Warning.

And yet I am proud of this book. I worked very hard on it: the pacing and action scenes, the world-building, the characters. It was hard to write compellingly through the viewpoint of  someone with no soul and therefore very little emotional connection to her surroundings, but I pulled it off.

VILLAIN STOMPING ON MY OUTLINE

Ironically, the rape scenes were not in my original outline. They are one of those (for me rare) cases where the characters came alive and the scene went sideways on me. I wrote the scene how it unfolded and told myself I'd fix it in the second draft, but when it came down to it I couldn't. Because I had something to say about slavery and sacrifice and rape. Too often in our world the victims of rape are shamed and told that they 'provoked' the attack or did something 'stupid' to find themselves in such a situation. But Sara, having no emotions, is not ashamed. She sees right through the villain when he tries blames her for the horrible things he does to her. And  that is why the dark scenes stay.

So if you're in the mood for some light entertainment, look elsewhere. But if you're willing to venture a step or two into the dark consider giving Soul of Kandrith a chance.

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Bring It Back(list) with Nicole Luiken

  THE STORY BEHIND:

A long, long time ago when I was in high school I wrote a YA dystopian novel called Beyond the Barrier. The plot was so bad it never made it past the first draft, but I always had a soft spot for the hero, Lance. Years later I resurrected the two main characters and stuck them in a fantasy novel. Sara evolved so much the only real remaining similarity is her name, however I kept the basic idea behind Lance’s character: someone who is always ill, but has a very stoic (and heroic) attitude. The magical reason behind his illness is the core idea for the novel. Everything else followed out of that.

Gate to Kandrith was published in 2012 by Carina Press. My working title was Sacrifice, but there are a lot of novels out there with that title so the publisher changed it to something more unique. Similarly, the title of the sequel changed from Soulless to Soul of Kandrith.

BLURB:

Sarathena Remillus, daughter of the newly elected Primus of the Republic of Temboria, has been given a mission: discover the secret of slave magic. Anxious to escape the corruption and treachery of the capital, Sara welcomes the chance to finally prove herself far away in Kandrith, the tiny nation of former slaves.

Accompanying her on the journey is Lance, a Kandrithan to whom Sara owes her life. Lance despises the nobility, and is determined to resist his desire for Sara, despite her attempts to entice him into divulging the secret of his magic.

Soon their travels become fraught with peril, and Sara discovers she's fallen victim to the ultimate betrayal. To end a war between two nations, she will have to make the ultimate sacrifice...

EXCERPT:

Chapter One

Almost time.

Sara’s stomach compressed into a hard knot as the tall, cadaverous high priest of Nir, the God of War, strode in to the banquet hall. 

Seeking reassurance, Sara touched the crossbow she’d secretly had mounted to the underside of the head table. Hidden by the blue tablecloth, her fingers found the crossbow bolt she’d loaded, the cord she’d cranked back still taut, ready to fire as soon as she gave a hard pull on the lever. 

 Her mouth felt as dry as the desert. The circular hall’s white dome seemed to press down on her as if she were an insect trapped under a bowl. Eight long tables radiated out from the head table’s dais in the middle, each seating two hundred men and women. The rise and fall of so many people talking battered her ears like a sea of sound, most of them ignorant of the drama playing out.

They would assume Nir had come, like the other priests, to confer a blessing on her father, the new Primus of the Republic of Temboria. Was she the only one who noticed the way Nir ignored protocol and headed straight toward her father? All high priests were called by the same name as their god, but Nir seemed to believe he was the God of War incarnate. 

Her hands felt icy. Now that the time was at hand, her contingency plan seemed inadequate. 

When Primus Vidor died unexpectedly two weeks ago without heirs, the Senate had been divided between two candidates: the wealthy Lord Favonius and General Pallax, whose military victories had won Nir’s favor. No one had been more shocked than Sara when Aleron Remillus had emerged as the compromise choice after four days of deadlock. 

In one stroke, her father had elevated their minor House to a major power, secured the future of Sara’s beloved younger brother and rid their family of crippling debt, but he’d also made enemies, most notably the priest from the powerful Temple of Nir.

 Her father believed he’d placated the temple with a large “thanks offering” immediately after his selection, but, unlike her father, Nir was not a consummate politician. His response to the Senate’s failure to vote as he wished was apt to be a lot more…direct. And violent.

Sara’s nerves tightened at Nir’s approach. He scowled as he was forced to wait for the diminutive priest of Cepi, the God of Small Favors, to grant his benediction.

Archers stood watch on the second-floor inner balconies to guard against assassination, but most legionnaires worshipped the God of War. She did not trust them.

Again, her hand went to the crossbow lever. If Nir drew his sword, she would—

A man’s hand slid up her thigh. Sara flinched, barely sucking back a shriek.

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Healer Week -- Cure Heavy Wounds

Ah, healers. Anybody who’s ever played a Dungeons & Dragons or other roleplaying game can tell you how essential it is to have a healer in the adventure party along with a thief, some fighters, and a mage. D & D healers could usually fight a little, too, but their primary usefulness came from casting all those Cure Light Wounds and Cure Heavy Wounds spells on their fallen comrades. They were necessary, but I never felt the urge to play one. Perhaps because the healing spells always sounded so boring. Perhaps, because in codifying the rules for easy play and reducing life-threatening injuries to ‘hit points’, they sucked all the life-and-death drama away from healing.

D & D made healing too easy. A healer/cleric character simply called upon their deity and was instantly granted the ability to magically heal a certain number of times a day depending on the character’s level.

And yet, conversely, fantasy novels that relied only on medieval types of healing such a herbal medicine often frustrated me. They were too hard, too limited. I grew tired of willowbark tea. I craved the endless possibilities and sense of wonder that magic could bring.

So I combined the two: magical healing with a price.

 In my novels, Gate to Kandrith and Soul of Kandrith, Lance is a healer. Like a D & D cleric, his power derives from Loma, the Goddess of Mercy. His healing can do wondrous things, but his path is anything but easy. He pays a heavy price for the ability. The exact nature of the price he pays is a spoiler, but I will say the original title of book one was Sacrifice. :)

Having a healer character opened up a whole world of plot possibilities. Characters made different choices than they would have otherwise. 

 

When Lance regained his composure, he rejoined the others. They were arguing about how to free Sara—the key had been lost—and getting nowhere.

Sara listened, saying nothing. Wenda, Marcus and Esam talked over and around Sara as if she were a lump of rock. Unable to stand it, Lance interrupted Marcus’s speculation on where they might find blacksmith tools. “Sara, what do you think we should do?”

The others fell silent.

“You could leave me here,” Sara said, as if it were obvious.

Wenda flushed—the thought had obviously occurred to her.

“Never,” Lance swore vehemently.

“Then use a sword.” Sara’s expression was completely unperturbed, as if what she was suggesting was easy. Lance wished he could take it as a sign of faith in him, rather than indifference.

“Who has the sharpest blade? Marcus?” Lance asked.

Marcus handed Lance his sword.

Lance tested the edge. An axe would have been better for shearing bone, but this would have to do.

He raised the sword, then moved it down in a swift cut, severing Sara’s forearm just above the manacle.

Blood spurted everywhere, including—curse it!—into the stone mouth. Fortunately, the Dark God didn’t wake. It had lost two priests in quick succession and must be hurting. Sara watched the whole procedure calmly, neither flinching nor screaming.

“God of Death,” Marcus swore. The hardened legionnaire looked sickened as Lance handed him back his sword.

Grimly, Lance pulled Sara’s severed hand out of the shackle, then rejoined it to her wrist. “Goddess,” he prayed. Loma answered his prayer. The two pieces of flesh melted together into an arm once more.

What are some of your favourite healing scenes from fantasy novels?  

And don't forget, there's still time to enter the rafflecopter draw for a bundle of fantasy ebooks featuring healers!

Win-a-Book Wednesday with Nicole Luiken!

NICOLE LUIKEN

Nicole Luiken wrote her first book at age 13 and never stopped.

She is the author of nine published books for young adults, including Violet Eyes and its sequels Silver Eyes and Angel Eyes, Frost, Unlocking the Doors, The Catalyst, Escape to the Overworld, Dreamfire and the sequel Dreamline. She also has an adult thriller, Running on Instinct, under the name N.M. Luiken and an epic fantasy romance series, Gate to Kandrith and Soul of Kandrith.

Nicole lives with her family in Edmonton, Alberta. It is physically impossible for her to go more than three days in a row without writing.

Sarathena Remillus, daughter of the newly-elected Primus of the Republic of Temboria, has been given a mission: discover the secret of slave magic. Anxious to escape the corruption and treachery of the capital, Sara welcomes the chance to finally prove herself far away in Kandrith, the tiny nation of former slaves.

Accompanying her on her journey is Lance, a Kandrithan to whom Sara owes her life. Lance despises the nobility and is determined to resist his desire for Sara and keep the secret of his magic.

Soon their travels become fraught with peril, and Sara falls victim to the ultimate betrayal. To end a war between two nations, she will have to make the ultimate sacrifice...

RT Book Reviews: 4 1/2 Stars 

"Filled with plotlines that range from the political to the fantastical, the adventure is what keeps readers engrossed..."

I'm giving away an ebook of the first book in the Kandrith series, Gate to Kandrith. However, if you'd prefer a different ebook of mine, please let me know and I'll try to accomodate you.

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Fantasy Week - Enriching the Scene

When I read fantasy I want to be immersed in a new world, one that may resemble our own slightly, but that the existence of magic has made fundamentally different. One of the things I look for in fantasy is the depth and richness of the world and I strive for the same in my own writing. Writers call this world-building, and it is more than a history. It is clothing, food, architecture, language, culture and customs, often for several different peoples or races. It is geography and biology, flora and fauna, climate and a dozen other things.

Some writers spend months inventing hundreds of years worth of history for their worlds before they set pen to paper. I don't (okay, can't) work this way. World-building is something that I layer into my story, adding details and building up through successive drafts.

Here is an example of an early draft of a scene from chapter one of Gate to Kandrith:

EARLY DRAFT:

The uncobbled side street she was running down was almost pitch-black with only the moonlight gleam of puddles to guide her.  Her slippered foot slid and the skirts of her gown trailed in muck, becoming sodden and chilly.  They clung to her legs, slowing her progress. 

She started to edge backwards, farther away from Claude and his servants.  A sanguon ran up holding a lamp, panting.  "Here, milord."

"Don't wave it in my face," Claude said irritably.  "Go look for her."

How many others were there in the dark, searching for her?  Sara struggled to remember how many had ridden with the coach.  The driver, Claude's bodyservant and one or two guards.

The lamp was easy enough to avoid.  Sara backed steadily away from the splash of yellow light and listened hard.  Another curse from Claude as he stepped in something unpleasant and over there a small splash, someone moving through a puddle.

I liked the scene, but felt the setting was too generic. It could have been any muddy alley in any fantasy city or even a historical novel. I wanted to show that my world was different and new and interesting. More subtly, I wanted to show that my main character grew up in a different culture and has been shaped by her beliefs.

NEW VERSION

Sara ran, guided only by the moonlight gleam of puddles.  The skirts of her gown trailed in muck.  The sodden material clung to her legs. 

"Sara!"

Sara tried to speed up, but her foot slipped in the mud.  She found herself slowing, her drugged body unwilling to run any farther.  The jazoria inside her whispered to stop, wait, let herself be caught.  Let Claude take her.  Anything to make the horrible, clawing need go away.

No.  She would not give in.

Sara looked around, trying to get her bearings in the dark.  Which way lay safety?  She moved farther away from Claude and stumbled upon a raised path. 

"Lady, it isn't safe, not here."  Claude's slave, Gelban, spoke this time.  "Do you know whose temple you're at?"

Temple?  Most temples were scrubbed free of mud by diligent dedicants.  Only one--

"I don't want to say His name, Lady," Gelban said.

Vez, God of Malice.  She'd entered His temple.  Sara's heart jumped as her memory supplied an image of temple courtyard full of black mud with Vez's statuary facial features rising up out of them.  She must be walking on the obscenely long, lolling tongue, about to pass through Vez's mouth into the courtyard.  Although Vez's assassin-priests had been outlawed over one hundred years ago and his worshippers driven into hiding, no one had dared pull down the God of Malice's temple.

"You don't know who might be out here in the dark," Gelban said.  "Please, come back to the carriage."

Sara tried to think.  Was Gelban right?  The dark seemed suddenly malevolent.  All types of scum were rumoured to come out at night to search the mud for the gold coins thrown by those buying a curse.  She could end up with her throat slit or sold into slavery.  In comparison, the early wedding night Claude wanted was nothing.

"Where is the little twotch?  We've lost her."  Claude swore with surprising viciousness. 

Her determination to escape Claude hardened. Ducking her head to avoid the sharp statuary teeth, Sara entered the mouth and the Temple of Vez.

Inside, her foot came down in ankle-deep muck.  The mud in the courtyard was said to be studded with sharpened stakes.  Vez only wanted worshippers who hated enough to be careless of losing a little blood.  And if they died later... the God of Malice played no favourites.

Not only is the second version considerably more creepy, but changing the setting from an anonymous alley to the Temple of Vez gave me a chance to salt little chunks of world-building into the action like diced potato in a stew. If you try to shove a whole potato’s worth of information or backstory down your reader’s throat in one lump, they may choke on it.

Similarly, the world-building needs to be integrated into the scene: my character has a reason to be thinking about something that everyone in her world grew up knowing. Nor is the information included here a mere footnote: Vez is the force behind my villain and important to the story. Going off on a tangent about history or architecture is as off-putting as adding sugar to your stew.

What are your favourite fantasy worlds?