What better way to start off a Friday morning in November – when the air has finally begun to crisp, Stranger Things fans wallow in the throes of post-season-2 withdrawals, novelists voluntarily submit to the tear-inducing trials of a month long writing marathon, and the sudden arrival of Christmas music sparks equal and opposite reactions of joy and consternation – than with a story?

(Side note: listening to Christmas music makes me happy any time of the year. Yes, I am one of those people.)

So here you have it my friends, a bonus snippet clipped from the world of the Songkeeper Chronicles, painstakingly saved, and revealed here for the first time … ever … in the history of the world … of Leira, that is …

Just for you.

Why? Because the following four things are true:

1) It’s been far too long since we’ve been able to enjoy a scene with dear old Amos. Okay, so it’s been the same amount of time since we’ve gotten to enjoy a scene with Birdie or Ky, but according to his fans – um, you guys – the ending to Book Two left some questions about Amos’s fate, and you feel you’ve been hanging in limbo for too long.

Bad news: still in limbo. Good news: here’s a fun bonus short! Enjoy!

2) Exciting things are coming soon in the world of the Songkeeper Chronicles. (Ahem … book three … and other smaller exciting things that I can’t reveal to you now, but of course I’m hinting at them because I’m a devious author who enjoys tormenting readers I hope to whet your appetite!)

3) This little tale has been gathering dust on the draft board since last year’s #exploreleira blog tour celebrating Songkeeper’s one year book birthday. I planned to share it then as an extra bit of rough story material and it’s been hanging in limbo ever since … somewhat like the aforementioned fans longing for Book Three.

4) The paperback version of Songkeeper is currently on sale on Amazon for only $5.15! This is true in the moment that I am writing these words, but I have no idea how long the sale will last, so if you’ve been waiting to purchase the book, or want to introduce a friend to the story, now’s your chance!

5) And you readers are the best … (I know, I know, I said four things. I’m such a rebel.)

Background:

When Amos McElhenny first took to the road as a traveling peddler, he did so with little more than an oversized knapsack and tramped his way from town to town, peddling the goods that he carried on his back. From the southern tip to the northernmost mountains, he marched, establishing a route and trade partners, and sampling the brew in every inn he passed.

It was pure happenstance that led him to the donkey, Balaam, and to his friend, Brog. A game of Fools Dice after one too many mugs of brew with a fellow traveling peddler, a reckless wager with a priceless bottle of Vrimgor sap (purchased on the edge of the Vituain Desert), and he walked away with the peddler’s pack of wares, packsaddle, and a large gray donkey to boot.

“Take ’im and good riddance.” The peddler lifted his bleary gaze from his mug and swept an unsteady hand toward the donkey, just visible through the swinging doors of the Whistlin’ Waterfly Tavern. “Laziest beast I ever met.”

Lazy the overgrown beast might be, but when it came to trekking across the whole of Leira carting wares to sell, four hooves had less chance of wearing out than Amos’s own two feet. He was a mite partial to them, not to mention his boots. Both had lasted him a good long while, and if he truly meant to make a go of this peddling business, they would have to last a good while more. With a satisfied sigh—disguised as a cough—he rose and straightened his belt. “Don’t suppose ye’d want t’ play one more round, now would—”

“Get out.”

“A’right, a’right!” Amos dodged the peddler’s wild swing. The man’s fist struck the dice and sent them skipping across the earthen floor. That earned both of them a dirty look from the fair young maid behind the counter, which was a shame because Amos had been trying to catch her smile since he had downed his second mug, much earlier in the evening. He had given up after her scowl had grown more and more pronounced with each consecutive mug. “I’m goin’. I’m goin’. Wheesht, man, ’tis not as if ye owned the place …”

He palmed the vial of Vrimgor sap from the table—his stake in the game, and a reckless one at that, since Vrimgor sap was woefully expensive and accessible only to those brave and foolish enough, or those with friends brave and foolish enough, to attempt crossing the wild expanses of the Vituain Desert—and slipped it into his overcoat pocket. With a grunt, he swept his heavy knapsack out from beneath the table, jostling a neighboring table and earning a stern stare from the Saari trio seated there. He mumbled an apology. Taverns were meant to be pleasant places, weren’t they? Instead, he found himself standing in a room full of guarded expressions and terse, huddled conversations. Bilgewater. Seemed there was no escaping the smog of fear and despair that had descended upon the world in the years since resistance died at the massacre of Drengreth, and hope along with it.

Mouth suddenly gone dry, he swallowed. He had thought to bury such thoughts when he left the caverns of Kerby for the last time, thought to escape it all in the simple life of a peddler, beholden to no man, free to wander whither he willed. If even tiny Hardale had felt the effects … maybe there was no escaping it.

But By Turning, he would do his best.

“Hoi, Amos.” The peddler’s voice recalled him part way through the swinging door. “‘is name’s Balaam.” Bloodshot eyes lifted over the rim of a newly filled mug. The pretty maid stood by his elbow, a jug in her hand. “Don’t you forget it now, you hear? Balaam.”

Amos cast a pitying grin toward the young woman and earned a disapproving glare in return. Apparently his welcome had run out. Again. He hasted toward the door. “Sure, Brog, sure.”

The doors swung shut behind him, and he paused on the stoop to consider his new prize. The donkey lifted his head from a hay bag and stared back, jaw rolling as he chewed. Fool’s Dice was aught but a fair game. A man knew that before he set hand to dice and began to play. The game thrived upon cheating luck. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost. It was just the way of it. Still … it didn’t set right with him, taking everything from a fellow peddler.

He had been many things in his life—many that he wasn’t proud of—but he had never been a common thief. An uncommon one, sure, guided by principles on who he would steal from and when. Khelari, mainly, anytime and any place. Those who supported them, whenever and wherever it would hurt the most. Rich folk who capitalized on the suffering of others, well, then he liked to time it to make them look the most like fools. But no, he had never been common enough to steal just for the sake of gain, and certainly not from one of his own.

Bilgewater.

Cursing, he undid the straps binding Brog’s packs in place, let them slip to the ground and then shunted them over to the stoop. He was none too careful about it and that assuaged his guilty conscience—because if Amos McElhenny wasn’t a common thief, he also wasn’t a softhearted sap—and then settled his own knapsack in place on the donkey’s back and yanked the lead free. The donkey let out a mournful bray.

“None o’ that now. ‘Tis time t’ move. C’mon.” He tugged the rope. Fool beast didn’t move. “Ye heard me, ye flyswoggled, addle-pated lump o’ charbottle! Let’s move.” Another tug. This time, the beast set his head so hard, Amos nearly jerked his shoulder out of socket. “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon!” Breathing hard, he wheeled around, coming nose to snout with the donkey, and stared into the dark wells of the beast’s eyes.

No malice in those eyes. Just boredom … and was that a hint of laughter he detected in the beast’s quivering muzzle? He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set his teeth. For the first time all evening, he began to wonder if he’d been had.

“Will ye no move on, ye seaswoggled beastie?”

“Balaam.” Brog’s voice cut across his welling wrath. The peddler had an arm slung across one of the swinging doors and was trying—and failing—to hide a grin behind the mug in his hand. His eyes looked considerably less bleary and unfocused than before. “You got to call ‘im Balaam. Talk nice to ‘im too. ‘e likes pleasant talk.”

Fine. “Balaam.” Amos dragged his eyes back to the donkey. “Will ye no move on?” Then gritted out between his teeth, “Please.” Still chewing, the donkey let out a long breath and then shuffled forward, treading on Amos’s foot. The beast’s shoulder knocked against him. Hard. Glass crunched and a damp spot slicked the pocket of his overcoat.

Vrimgor sap.

Hastily, Amos tore off the coat and cast it on the ground. Shards of glass clinked in the pocket. He had been a blame fool not to stow the priceless, dangerous vial more carefully. Now there was a fortune gone, and his overcoat ruined, and—boggswoggle—he’d been fortunate indeed that the glass hadn’t cut him, for one drop of such a concentrated form of that poison in his blood would have left him a dead man.

He rounded on the witless beast. “What was that, ye dawdling great ormahound? Have ye no got eyes in yer head?”

The donkey just blinked at him.

“Remember, Amos,” Brogg called from the doorway. “Pleasant talk!”

“I’ll give ye blatherin’ pleasant talk …” Clenching his teeth on his anger and the pain, Amos snatched up the overcoat and flung it over the donkey’s back. The fool beast twisted his head around to sniff at the damp stain on the pocket. “None o’ that now!” Already the beast had cost him a boggswoggling amount of trouble and coin. No way he would let him die that easily. “No, laddie, ye’re goin’ t’ have t’ work a long time yet.”

Muttering to himself, he swung the lead over his shoulder and marched off into the night. He had ever been a firm believer in the power of confidence, particularly when a man felt a fool. Surprisingly, the donkey toddled after him without a fight.

“So long, Amos!” Brog stepped out onto the tavern stoop, seeming suddenly strangely alert, and waved a cheery farewell with the maid smirking by his side. “Enjoy the stubborn beast! Be sure and stop by the Waterfly to see us next time you’re in town.”

Fool’s Dice, indeed.

“Bloodwuthering bloddknockers!”

Your Turn! Here’s a couple question prompts to start the conversation:

• Are you still wallowing in despair after finishing Stranger Things?
• Have you started listening to Christmas music yet?
• Who would you rather play in a games of Fool’s Dice, Amos or Brog?
• And Trivia Question: Any guesses as to where the donkey Balaam gets his name?

Want to make sure you never miss a post? Scroll down to the bottom of this page and subscribe to magically receive blog posts in your inbox! (Just blog posts … no ads or sales or fairy spells … I promise.)

Curious to find out more about Amos, Brog, and Balaam? Check out the links below to purchase the books:

Amazon: Orphan’s Song, Songkeeper

Barnes and Nobles: Orphan’s Song, Songkeeper

Thanks to all of you for participating in the #exploreleira tour over the past month and a half! Would you believe it – Songkeeper is now officially one year old! Honestly, I’ve had WAY too much fun exploring the characters, places, and creatures in the world of Leira and hope that you have too.

But now, at last, the moment you’ve been waiting for …

It’s time to announce giveaway winners!

DRUM ROLL, PLEASE

In scanning the entries, I was excited to see so many old familiar faces, as well as many new names and faces that I am thrilled to meet. (I hope you new friends will stick around post tour as well! We have lots of “boggswoggling” fun here. Just saying.) While I would love to be able to give a copy of the Songkeeper Chronicles to everyone – because I do just love sharing the books with readers – I’m afraid we will have to stick with our three winners this time around.

Winning the grand prize package, including a copy of Orphan’s Song, Songkeeper, and this gorgeous handcrafted mug:

Caryl Kane!

And each winning a copy of Songkeeper:

Jane Maree and Elizabeth Russell!

Congrats to the winners and thanks to all for entering! If you weren’t lucky enough to win this time and the #exploreleira tour whetted your appetite for the books, you can also purchase them online in the following places:

Amazon: Orphan’s Song, Songkeeper

Barnes and Nobles: Orphan’s Song, Songkeeper

And for all you lovely fans of the series, consider telling a friend about the books or writing a review on Amazon or other retail site. Missed a stop or two on the tour and want to catch up? Find all the posts here: #exploreleira.

Until next time, happy wandering, fellow travelers!

Welcome to stop number twenty six in the #exploreleira tour blog tour where we’re celebrating the (almost) one year book birthday for Songkeeper! It is the second book in the Songkeeper Chronicles, which tells the story of a girl who can hear the song that created the world.

If this is your first encounter with the blog tour, we are continuing a series of alphabet posts looking at the world and characters and magical creatures of the Songkeeper Chronicles.

Today, we’re looking at the letter …

Z is for Zahar

Can you believe it? We are already at the end of the #exploreleira tour! I hope you have enjoyed our little rambling trek through the world of Leira. I know that I certainly have. If you have read the books and enjoyed them, consider spreading the word through writing up a quick review online or telling a friend about the series.

In the meantime, we have one more #exploreleira post to enjoy.

Over the past few weeks, I have been working on a short story that delves further into Zahar’s tragic tale. I hoped to be able to share it here as the culmination of the tour, but true to form, the short story has grown beyond what I expected, so a blog post is no longer the best medium for sharing. (And I am not quite finished yet. Almost. But not quite.)

For now, we will simply discuss the formation of Zahar’s character and how she fell into her role in the story, and I will save her full tale for another time. Zahar first appears toward the end of Songkeeper, so I shall endeavor to share her backstory without revealing too many spoilers about her role in the book.

For those of you who have read the book, here’s a fun bit of trivia. In the first draft, Zahar’s role was originally filled by Auna, Birdie’s grandmother and the previous Songkeeper. In that version of the story, Auna had survived her initial run in with the Khelari (seen at the beginning of Orphan’s Song) and wound up being led astray by the lies of the Takhran over years of captivity in the Pit.

There was a fair bit more to it than that, and it was tied into several character development ideas and plotlines. But my editor wasn’t a fan of that storyline and encouraged me to try something different, so I went back to the drawing board, sketched out an idea for a new character, and voila, Zahar appeared on the page. And honestly, I’m so grateful for my editor’s suggestions there, because the book became so much stronger through the changes made.

As soon as I began developing this new character, I immediately went for a name that began with the letter Z. I searched on various naming websites and wound up with a long list of Z names, but as soon as I said the name “Zahar” out loud, I knew that it sounded right. Naming characters is one of my favorite parts of the writing process. It usually takes me a little while, but once I settle on a character’s name, I very rarely change it.

Certain names just feel right.

But I digress.

Who is Zahar?

Well, we first hear portions of her story from Gundhrold when he, Amos, and Birdie are in Serrin Vroi. Originally a daughter of the Nordlands, Zahar lived a nomadic life with her brother, Rav, after the untimely death of their stepfather. By all accounts, she was a beautiful woman, but hers was the beauty of a frail, wind-shorn leaf.

“ … robed in the blue of the Shantren, with hair like autumn leaves that hung in long, silver-banded braids to her waist. A red crystal dangled from a chain about her neck. Save for the dark hollows beneath her eyes and cheekbones, neither age nor worry had yet lined her forehead or marred her skin.”

– Songkeeper

At a young age, she discovered her ability to hear faint strands of melody, but the ability never fully developed. Even so, her brother, Rav, became convinced that she was the next Songkeeper. He dragged her to the desert, insisted that the council of griffins recognize her gifting, and became almost violent when they labeled her a Songling and not a Songkeeper. (For more on Songlings and Songkeepers, check out this post!) For the next year, Rav and Zahar vanished from the desert. Little is known of what befell them during that time. None can say why they returned to the north, nor how they wound up wandering the lightless paths below Mount Eiphyr …

But into the Pit they went.

A year later, they marched ragged and sand-blasted to stand before the council of griffins, and once again, Rav demanded that his sister be recognized. When they refused yet again, he unleashed an ambush. A group of chimera lurked in the shadows beyond the meeting place of the Protectors. To Zahar’s horror, they fell upon the griffins with flame and fang, and in the sudden onslaught, the Protectors were slaughtered.

Alone of the griffins, Gundhrold escaped, with Auna at his side.

“But as we fled, I saw her. Zahar. Standing on the brink of the fight. Then she plunged in after her brother only to fall at the feet of one of the beasts. Dead. I am convinced of it.”

– Songkeeper

I did warn you that hers was a tragic story, yes?

Unfortunately, I’m afraid we’ll have to end the post there in order to avoid too many more spoilers from Songkeeper. In the meantime, I am enjoying wordcrafting on Zahar and Rav’s short story. Sibling tales offer so many fascinating dynamics.

I always get ridiculously excited about the telling of a new tale, so I am loving every facet of developing this new short story, drawing from the strengths and weaknesses of this established character and following them back like footprints to determine who she was at the beginning. It is fascinating … and oh so much fun.

Hope to be able to share it with you all at some point too!

Want to find out more about Zahar? Check out the links below to purchase the books:

Amazon: Orphan’s Song, Songkeeper, Song of Leira

Barnes and Nobles: Orphan’s Song, Songkeeper, Song of Leira