Silent Watcher (The Crystal Point Legacy Book 2)

They were alone, as alone as fourteen battle-hardened ships of the line could be in the dea. Writing is mostly a lonely process, at least it is for me. And often times life gets in the way and things generally take more time than originally planned. My next book, Ghost Fleet had an original timeline to be released this past summer. Sometimes things just don't work out, but also sometimes it might be for the better. Hopefully within the next month Ghost Fleet will be available and I genuinely hope most will consider it worth the wait.

A brief excerpt from Ghost Fleet, book two of t. An eve turns a day turns an eve. It is queer I think that this journey south I take would would make my skin tingle with night's cool breath. This fire that dances before me is again my security and my warmth. I stretch out my hands and feel the touch of life itself.

Fire is life; and death. I bask within its glow and feel the moisture bubble across my face. Should I not be warm in these southern reaches even as the night calls to me? I look skyward into the blackness of the heavens. The lights of the firmament see. A day has passed since Authurn and I have parted company. This second sun begins to bring new life to my heart. As I pass one foot before the other I begin to feel more like myself, at least the self I have begun to know since I have left the confines of the Middle Valley.

I feel the new warmth upon my shoulder, life's light from the east calling the world from the depths of its slumber. My confidence in the world around me is slowly returning as I struggle to shake the memories of my capture. This night I find myself restless, the crackling fires that keep us warm are that which soothes my thoughts. Yet, it is not enough as my mind meanders through these past hours, these hours that were my indignant torture.

The flames dance before my weary eyes as I lay upon the dampness of the cool earth. My eye falls to my savior, this man-folk, this Authurn. He has let this night pass seemingly without thought and is held tightly within his nights dreams. The day wears on, the sun adrift above the clouds.

Gloom has moved across the peaks of the Sirris and reached down to touch the canopy with a light finger. Though I sense no coming rainfall, we retreat to the safety of the mountain walls and slip within a fissure. We have moved from the opening where once I faced death, staring into its eye. I measure myself against myself as I have none other to reflect upon. I steal a glimpse at my savior as the low fire basks upon his chiseled fa.

A light of life. At the moment of my freedom, the sun blazes through the sun-swept canopy above. It is as a sign of deliverance, and I am free once more.

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My hand releases the rod that was to be my savior, letting it fall to the ground. The voice that once I heard, I hear again, in time of my greatest need. Not once, but twice have I been the benefactor of such. My legs begin to strengthen as does my will. My pack and belongings having been strewn about, hide my weapon from my eyes. A stout log lays near my side and it is quickly within my grasp. Though I tremble within, I do not taste the fear I would have imagined when I began this adventure. Be it only a few weeks, I have begun to rely on myself and face those shadows that fade within the light of day.

I shall not run. The log I raise with which to do battle shall be my sword. The sun has climbed to its zenith as I remain encumbered, my back snug against this oak. I feel its bite, my back nearly raw from the turns I have spent within its grasp. My captors have retreated to as dark a place as they are able to manage. It is obvious they do not suffer well the light of day. I have relented in trying to observe them further as they have settled into their night world.

I sit now with the light of day to do nothing more than ponder my fate, certainly a prospect that appear. The light in the sky begins to awaken the world around us, even here in the depths of the wilderness. My captors do not seem to embrace the coming of the day as do I. They have moved away from the dying embers and seek shelter in the coves of the nearest hillside, while I remain strapped to this pillar. As the light rises, they move deeper into the recesses. Perhaps this day has become my savior. I work to study them in their plight. It is something I may be able to use against them.

My head stings, my neck stiff as I awaken to what is before me. I have been asleep for a time, my fire not what it was, as I hear the embers failing. I reach to rub my neck but find my hands tied, my ankles strapped beneath me. I look up, the pain in the back of my neck screaming as winds through mountain passes. The sky lightens to the east; it is that time before dawn when the world has not yet fully awakened.

The tree behind me stabs my spine as I push against it to adjust my ba. The light of the fire illuminates all within its grasp, except my foe. His darkness nearly absorbs the light itself. He is blacker than anyone I have seen in all my days. He steps forward, a wicked smile upon his dark face. Again his words rake across my ears, their sounds, gutteral.

I take my eyes not from him as stumbling sounds assault me from behind.

The snarling voice I hear behind me is almost unrecognizable as words. I spin quickly, bringing my dagger up. I hear a boisterous laugh as my fingers tighten about my blade's hilt. Would that I now have taken a proper sword on this adventure. What now stands before me, I have never seen the like. I feel the heat from the embers upon my leg as I stand firm beside the flames. My senses are exploding at the visceral emotions welling up within.

It is with heart, a lustful look forward that any adventure we wish to undertake begins. I remember that first day that I decided to ultimately pursue this adventure, this quest into the unknown. I was giddy with anticipation. In that moment, that instant of time, the world outside my walls filled with all that I could imagine, all that I could dream.

My plans then began in earnest to walk from these valleys into a world I could only imagine.

1. Robert C. Thomas (Editor of The Kiss).
2. Smashwords – The Dream Valley – a book by Robert Thomas.
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Unfortunately, I have come to find that. A sense of renewal. The morning passes quickly as my walk has taken me across rolling fields of nature's bounty along the foothills of my prison. But, to look upon these bars from the outside is a different feeling altogether. In the days gone by of my youth they were no more than an adventure to one-day explore.

But to the life that I had come to live, these mountains became my prison, a barrier to what was beyond. It is the sneaky passage of time that has hemmed in my world. The glorious days of yout. My morning awakens as the sun again begins its journey above the horizon. My night was wrapped in solitude as I quickly realized how alone I have been on this short journey.

Only a few weeks out and I now understand the value of companionship. Though I have always lived alone, there was naught for lack of conversation, always a neighbor or friend at the ready. A casual conversation by the fire was a pleasant reminder of my life. It is, however, the reason I began this journey in the first place.

My day of excitement draws to a close, a rather mundane experience as it turns out.

The world of night settles in against the Sirris, my back up against the mountains as my view extends yet again across the fields and plains of the Far Wilderness. An interesting name, my people have given this. It is said long ago when Sheimas came to these lands, these three valleys they now call home, they could have chosen a different path. The valleys of the Chrystum were nurturing and protective, their spi. The morning sun has long since passed, its light swallowed by the blackening sky. I feel the chill breeze as it snakes through the mountain passes to my right.

The gathering clouds signal a storm chasing its way across the upper reaches of the Dream Valley. Such a sight I recall from years ago, my first visit upon the heights of High Song Pass. The memory still stirs my soul as for the first time, I put behind me the mundane farmer's fields of the Middle Valley of the Chrystum.

Breakfast now finished, I offer my services yet am again, politely rebuffed. The more I linger, the more I feel the pull of their cottage wanting to keep me from my journey, but my journey I must now renew. I feel the warmth of the hearth which kept away the damp airs as the night's storm traveled through. I feel the warmth also of the home itself and those who took me in, offering a stranger, kindness.

One last time I walk to the stone hearth and reach for my pack and cloak. Window on the world. The storm that has rolled up against the back of the Sirris does little to keep me awake. A time or two I'm stirred by the light of the heavens, though I quickly slip back into my unconscious world. The morning light now fills my space as dawn has broken the surface of the world. The first beams of the new day wash across my face and I feel its warmth upon my skin. As I roll, I see the flames crackling brightly.

Tis the mark of a sturdy hearth to keep its charge alight. As I rise I. As the flames ebb and night has fully taken hold of the day, we retire for the evening. I again feel as an intruder to their world. Their cottage is not structured for visitors; though small and cozy I believe it has been many a year since they have received overnight guests. As I watch, a proper-looking bed is quickly assembled for me next to the hearth. The next crack of thunder sends a shiver down my spine as I begin to feel the dampness of the storm invading. The fire will be a welcome frie.

I sit back and relax believing I will hear a wonderful tale of adventure. I look into my glass, the spirits coating the sides with their amber hue. Its aroma rolls up and fills my nostrils. It is a heady brew indeed.

I watch the flames dance in the hearth as we hear a faint rumble coming across the Siris. The word itself causes me to take notice. Surely this person who seems the master of his world could not have faced a situation so dire. What lies within the world of men-folk that could do such harm? The warmth of my drink calls to me and I take a larger swig. I again feel the burn as my chest warms to its touch. He raises his glass and nods hi.

I look at the fire and the half-filled glass within my palms. I raise it to my nose, tentative. I can nearly taste the earthy smells as they escape the rim of the glass. I pause and glance to my host. He seems lost in thought, then suddenly the glass kisses his lips and its contents flows freely. Its peaks are ragged from the pounding weather that blows in from the Western Sea. Popularity Popularity Featured Price: Low to High Price: High to Low Avg.

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Retail Boy okay, that's me did the unthinkable today and went to a store on a holiday. It is quite frankly something I am loathe to do. In this day and age the economic advantage drives the world. It is something I have understood and known for many years. Nearly everything we do as a society, a culture or the world for that matter is driven by some economic force.

This morning I ventured into View more on Robert C. Published on November 22, Robert is Currently Reading. Robert Thomas is currently reading. Jul 06, Thomas wrote a new blog post. Nov 23, Robert Thomas made a comment on The List. Dec 19, And was I glad of that choice! Oct 05, Stage a 17 year old, having a mother who prefers alcohol rather than living, and an abused stepdad who treats her as a punching bag. While the stories themselves are well written and entertaining, the value I took away was like window shopping for authors.

But I would better to describe it as a 'wine tasting': Aug 11, Robert Thomas made a comment on Hump year. Jun 29, Robert Thomas rated a book really liked it. May 27, Quotes by Robert C. Castellano, Bow of the Moon. Lee Hanson author of Castle Cay. Castellano author of Tricenten Search for a book to add a reference.