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Cover Reveal: Consort to the Shadows, Part One

2/15/2019

Have you ever had to create a really good-looking image from something in the public domain? If so, you will know the sort of struggle my cover artist Ruth Germon experienced when she came up with this one. For a start, there are basically no good dragon images in the public domain. Check for yourself. Everything is copyrighted. The reason for this is obvious. You can’t just go out and snap a picture of a dragon and stick it on the internet. That’s why there aren’t heaps of them floating around. Dragons have to be drawn or animated. And this means that people are going to copyright their images.
So when I said to Ruth that I wanted a dragon on the front cover of this book, I may have scared her a little. I certainly scared myself a little, but I knew Ruth was capable of miracles. And if she decided she wasn’t up to it, we could always have left the cover blank and said the dragon was invisible like in Elliot and the Dragon. Just kidding.
Anyway, Ruth found a very ordinary image to use - a dragon statue, probably photographed somewhere in China. It was obviously stone and really only contained the front claws, neck, and head of the dragon. Then a pedestal sat beneath the structure, making it look like… well, a statue.
Ah, the power of editing - Ruth’s editing, that is. Would you have guessed that the silhouetted dragon depicted on the cover is a statue? Probably not. When she was finished with the cover, I nearly forgot where the original image had been sourced from. Add some flame here and some texture there, pick a good background colour, and ask Tristan to animate some lettering in Captain of the Pirates font, and there you have it - a brilliant cover. Once again, Ruth and I went for a simple central image against a striking background. But thanks to Ruth’s ingenuity, it paid off.
To create covers like that, you really have to be able to see the miraculous in the everyday. It’s an artist’s gift. The next time you see a statue of a dragon, you may not think of it the same way!

Purchase this brand new book here.
Alternately, start the series with Rafen, marked down to a dollar today!
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Author Feature: Consort to the Shadows

2/10/2019

A wedding pic, with my sword pendant necklace.

With the release of Consort, Part One, I wanted to share a little of who I am with my audience. Those of you who have found this website may already know a bit about me. My name is Yvette Kate Willemse (Y K Willemse on the covers of my books), and I’ve been a serious writer for a long time.
I started writing my first book at age ten. That book is now published. Rafen is the finished product. I literally rewrote the book five times before I got it published. Additionally, I was rejected about forty times by various publishers and literary agents before I secured a publishing contract for the book and its sequels.
When I was growing up, there were only a couple of things that I knew for certain about my life. One of them was that I was going to be an author. I seldom questioned this fact until I came to the age when I began to write large projects. At that time, there were plenty of people who would give me their opinion on what I was doing. Some were positive. But the vast majority of them were either negative or incredulous. I mean, let’s be honest. If you see a ten-year-old writing a book, you’re hardly going to believe that book will be internationally published one day, right?
I believe it now. When I teach creative writing, and I see my students writing enthusiastically, I remind myself to be constructive, but to be kind and respectful. You never know which child might be a published author one day. The power of the published written word is actually huge. I might not have a big audience, but I do have an audience - and anyone, the world over, can access my work and read it. People can find out about what I believe and some of the things I’ve experienced almost without trying. I could say anything about anyone, and someone, somewhere, would find out and perhaps even take my word for it, because I’m an author.
So in short, when a child tells me their dreams - whether they’re literary or not - I always allow the possibility that this thing could really happen. I choose not to doubt immediately. I choose to believe in their capabilities and determination.
At age sixteen, I was published for the first time in a national anthology printed in New Zealand. This was an incredible experience for me, and it took me one step closer to the experience of publishing my own books. At age eighteen, Pontas Literary and Film Agency signed me on as their youngest ever client. They represented me internationally for an agreed period of two years, during which time they found me my publisher.
When I signed the literary agency contract, a few more people began to believe that what I was working on might actually happen. But two years is a long time to wait, and after several rounds of rejections, even I was doubting whether I could get my own book published. One thing kept me holding on - God. I was convinced that if God had placed this desire in me and given me such a wealth of ideas He could get these books published - if He wanted to. I kept praying about it and kept writing.
I might have thought that my books could do some good in the world. But I didn’t realise that they were doing me good first and foremostly. Due to some painful experiences in my childhood, I had a lot of baggage. Writing The Fledgling Account enabled me to process what it means to experience pain and still believe in a good God - what it means to have your innocence shattered and still be a child - and what it means to want to do good but to always feel filthy and ashamed. I hope that The Fledgling Account can help at least one person who went through something like what happened to me. If it does, these books have achieved their purpose.
At age twenty-two, my first four books were published. It was the weirdest experience to hold my first book in my hands. I walked out of a music lesson I had been giving a child one night to discover my client sitting in the waiting room, reading my book. This was actually very ironic, as I had not yet received my copy of Rafen, which had just released. I begged her to let me hold it, which she willingly did. She even photographed me. It was a crazy experience. I think I found it most strange to flick through the pages and see something that had once been a moving, developing Word document rendered official.
After my first four books were published, I experienced a taste of both local and national fame in New Zealand. I was interviewed for a group of newspapers, which culminated in a large article about me appearing on page three of the weekend Herald - New Zealand’s most widely read newspaper. Radio Rhema, a highly influential Christian radio station in NZ, interviewed me too. My books went into New Zealand public and university libraries. I spoke at Hamilton Book Month once and presented at several schools. But when you’re not getting anything else published, things slow down, which they inevitably did. Fame only lasts as long as you’re interesting, and it’s hard to be interesting all the time - not to mention that it’s tiring. Additionally, I was growing older, which meant that I was no longer a prodigy. A twenty-year-old signing a publishing contract is unusual and exciting. A twenty-two year old with four books out is out of the ordinary. But a twenty-five or twenty-six year old with five books published - diverting I suppose, but no longer prodigy level.
I’m not particularly worried by this, although I admit that it once concerned me. You know what it’s like - you succeed big time at one thing and then feel the pressure to top it again and again to keep up the status. I’ve come to terms with why I felt that way though, and the personal shame and low self esteem that sat behind that attitude. I don’t feel any pressure to prove myself in this way anymore.
I write because it’s a core part of who I am. It’s how I understand the world and process it. Additionally - without meaning to flatter myself - I have a very quick, active mind that can swiftly turn to hyper anxiety if I’m not careful. My mind is constantly jumping ahead and working out the consequences of numerous actions and events. It imagines what might happen if “x” occurs and then spirals out of control. In short, it’s a survival machine. And the best way to slow that down is to write it out. Because of the way I’m wired, I’m able to write fast-paced, thrilling stories. That’s a gifting I have. If I don’t write, my gifting turns in on itself and becomes a problem. It’s like a muscle I need to exercise to stay healthy.
Some people don’t understand this and might even think I’m being dramatic. But stop and think about it. We all have idiosyncrasies that could become huge problems if we don’t develop a healthy way of working with them.
So here I am, with another book nearly published and more on the way. And books will probably always be in my future, in some way or other.
I know that even if few people read my work, it’s doing some good in my immediate circles anyway, because it’s making me a healthier, more responsible person. And that does good to those around me.
But I hope that because you’ve taken a moment to read some of my story, you might consider reading more of it in one of my books. Take a trip, have an adventure - it’s on me this time.

Y. K. Willemse

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Clipping from the weekend edition of the New Zealand Herald, back in 2015.

Kiwis in the Outback: Encounters with Australian Wildlife

2/4/2019

Part of Chinchilla's immense bat colony.

It's been nearly a month since we immigrated to Australia, and so far, we're settling in pretty well. I had my first day at school the other day, and I have plenty of private music students already. Up north, places like Townsville have been flooded out. Meanwhile, we still haven't had a drop of rain for weeks. The weather has cooled down though - only thirty-four or thirty-five. It's due to the clouds and a bit more breeze.

In the meantime, we've seen a few unusual things, which gave me moments of delight, wonder, or disgust each in their turn. One night I went out to toilet the dog, and a green tree frog had parked by the back door. I have to say, they are actually extremely cute. They're also extremely fast. It was being all photogenic until we actually tried to take a picture of it. Then it took off and went underneath the house. That was when I realised what that weird, rhythmic sound that I've heard so many mornings was. It's most probably a frog sitting beneath the house croaking.
That was a relief, because at the time I had thought it was our pipes imploding or something more sinister.

Every evening, hundreds of bats fly overhead - thousands even. The council has estimated that Chinchilla has between 10,000 to 15,000 local fruit bats. That clearly outnumbers the local people. The locals talk about taking a gun to them. I think it's because fruit bat poo burns away your car paint and causes general devastation. Also, apparently bats really stink. I haven't noticed it, but then I don't have much of a sense of smell.
I noticed that the bats always issued from the same direction every night, between seven and seven thirty. They fly remarkably silently. Any other bird that flies in a flock here is bound to announce its presence by screeching its lungs out. That's quite normal in Australia. Crows become the background music (ahem, cacophony) to your life. Bats are relatively quiet by comparison. They fascinated me.
Then one day when we were heading to the farmer's market, I glimpsed a bunch of trees over the creek with lots of large black teardrops clinging to them. Michael and I turned around the car and headed down the street toward the trees.
That's when we discovered where all the bats come from. You have to see it to believe it, but there were literally a thousand on one tree. Last year, the bat colony settled above Charlie's Creek in the middle of town. The council eventually got people to use spud guns and things to move them to a more "natural habitat" as they put it. They succeeding in getting the bats to move... across the road, which was where we found all of them.
The trees were so laden that the bats were rearranging themselves during the day. When they fly in direct sunlight, their wings are see-through.

My weird wildlife sightings came to a climax with seeing my first snake at school on Monday. It was most probably a baby eastern brown, and it looked very frightened of all the children, slithering and twisting like crazy. I was leaving anyway, so I just went around the area where it was. It was good timing, because if I'd stayed any longer I probably would have been shut in the school for an additional ten minutes along with everyone else while the snake was being dealt with.
I surprised myself by not really being that worried, even though the eastern brown is rated as the second most poisonous of all land snakes, and baby browns are often highly venomous.
All in a day's work in Australia, I suppose. I survived another day and returned home to eat chicken nuggets for tea.
In the meantime, it's ten/eleven days till my fifth book releases! So I'm looking forward to the excitement that that brings into my life as well.
Until next time!

A very blurry picture of our photogenic frog.

Character Feature: Consort to the Shadows

1/31/2019

Friend or foe? Dragons have been a fascination in legend and literature for centuries.

Consort introduces a few new characters to my readers. Experienced readers of epic fantasy will know that this particular genre specializes in a huge array of characters, which can sometimes be mind boggling. I hope that Eil will prove memorable.

Dragons of any sort have fascinated people for centuries. This picture was actually from an advert prior to World War I, calling young men to battle. The foe was depicted as a dragon.

In Consort, dragons are both friends and foes.

Fire Daemons were so named because of their lethal flame and unpredictable temperament. They are the only type of dragon in the history of the Mio Pilamùr to never have been tamed by man. Fire Daemons are also one of the smaller variety of dragons. They are only the height of two grown men, and their wingspan is the length of three. Considering that some dragons can be as tall as the turret of a high-reaching palace, Fire Daemons might not sound very impressive. But Fire Daemons have two unique gifts: their eyes and voice can hypnotize their prey, and their flame is both highly explosive and repugnant to other dragons. While many dragons are not harmed by fire, they are still susceptible to the flame of the Fire Daemon.
This sets the Fire Daemon apart. As a Fire Daemon grows older and becomes more experienced, it is capable of blowing up a stone wall with a couple of explosive sparks, or nearly suffocating another dragon with its flames. The hypnotic powers are present from infancy.
Eil hatched from an egg that Sherwin found in the Cursed Woods when he was fifteen. Sherwin buried the egg at an old campsite and dug it up at age seventeen, in book five. And that was when Eil chose to hatch.
All dragons have the power of speech, but few speak to people, regarding them to be too dense or inferior to hold conversation with. Eil knew he was among equals from the beginning. With Sherwin and Rafen caring for him and flying with him, Eil quickly became one of the most talkative dragons alive.

Rafen had never thought of the dragons having their own stories and traditions—their own conversations—let alone waiting for him with eager anticipation.
“As my ancestors feel, so all people feel,” Eil said. “The Liai of the Woods, the birds, the badgers, the bears, the deer, the wolves— they all wait for Runi ki Hafa, and when he come among them, much excitement he bring. They tell it to all. The wolves brag and make the bears angry. The rabbit and hare all boast one day they be your meal in the Wood, yes, yes, and they shriek in joy later.”
Eil threw back his head and made a loud, cawing sound, like a large, masculine crow. Rafen took this to be a laugh and found it infectious; he couldn’t help laughing, too.

Eil is intensely aware of his special giftings, even if he doesn’t have full command over them yet. When the ruler of Zal Ricio ‘el Nria comments in shock that Rafen’s dragon “talks to him!”, Eil reminds the Zaldian chief of the other things he can do too.

Eil turned his head to Obed. The chief quailed and wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Is afraid to look at Eil, yes,” Eil said, “because Eil can make man people feel warm and safe, and make them do what he want, make them stop fighting him. Man people have to move fast to not fall under Eil’s power. Eil’s voice and eyes special, lovely voice and eyes, Eil is handsome!”
Eil threw his head up and writhed in self-satisfied delight. Rafen held his own ribs so he wouldn’t crack them.
“But big man wonder why Eil talk. Eil tell the big man.” Eil thrust his head forward so his snout was in Obed’s face. Obed flinched but held his ground. “Eil has Fourth Runi to ride him, yes! Eil love Fourth Runi, so Eil talk to him. Is great honor. Eil talk to little Hral, little Sherwin man, as well, because Sherwin man is special, too. But normal man?”
Eil turned his head and spat a combination of saliva and sparks onto the ground. A fire shot up like a jet, and Rafen surged forward to absorb the flames.
“Normal man is stupid, foolish, slow.” Eil rolled his eyes up in his head and made some low, ridiculous grunts. “Is what normal man is like. So Eil not open dragon mouth to speak to stupid people. Is like a bear talk to an ant.”
The chief bowed in response to this explanation, obviously too disquieted to reply.

Later in Consort Part One, Eil and Rafen must face the enemy dragon rider Tirok in public battle. While Eil seems confident, Rafen is understandably nervous.

“MY LORD FLEDGLING, GOOD DAY FOR A FIGHT IT IS, YES, YES. SMASH TIROK. SMASH ’NAZ, HIS DRAGON,” Eil bellowed.

It is possible that Eil is about to prove what he has always known: that he is the best dragon alive. And Rafen will prove what he has always known: that he is the Fourth Runi, and he is equal to any challenge.

Kiwis in the Outback: Staying Cool on Australia Weekend

1/27/2019

Trying to cool down an unwilling Peyton in the laundry sink.

Well, it's been Australia Day here recently. We didn't really know what to do on this particular festivity, so we just chilled at home for some of the day and then went to the Weir later. I thought the Weir would be less busy than the local swimming pool - which it probably was. Still, it felt like most of Chinchilla had showed up, chilling in Australian flag towels or shorts and eating water melon.
There's nothing like getting your body temperature down on a hot day though. We enjoyed the water and deliberately stayed on the side of the wharf that is farthest away from the jet skiers. That's what a lot of people do at the Weir - they take a boat into the water, hook someone up at the back of it and tow them around the Weir in rapid circles. They get around it in less than two minutes and create waves in otherwise calm waters, meaning the other half of the people who are there (who are most probably calmly bobbing around on blow up floaties) get thrown around a bit every so often. The jet skiing can be fun to watch but it is slightly stressful if you take a kayak out to the Weir, because you make significantly slower progress than a motorboat. So you've just managed to frantically paddle your kayak over to one bank to avoid the motorboat. Then it passes; you relax and kayak out into the middle of the causeway and breathe a sigh of relief. But right then, the painfully close rumble of the motorboat crescendos as your favourite waterway friend sweeps around the bend just behind you again. Cue frenzied paddling with the motorboat and the wildly swinging jet skier bearing down on you. And in the meantime, you're trying to prevent your dog from jumping ship and getting run over by said motorboat.
Nice.
We survived, but I have to admit, it's different than kayaking about the Bay of Islands in New Zealand, because you don't encounter the same motorboat twelve times in less than half an hour there. Next time I should just tie our blow-up kayak to the back of a jet skier's boat and go for a ride myself. It's probably easier being behind the thing.

In the meantime, Michael's been at work, getting used to a new school and new culture, and I started teaching singing again this past week. Year eight of music tuition, here we come. So far my students are representing Australian singing tolerably well. This week, many things are starting up again. There'll be Bible Study, and the first official meet up of the brand new Chinchilla Writers' Group. I didn't start it up, by the way. I just attended the first casual meet and greet. It consists of essentially two young ladies who work for the local paper who like to write a bit. So it should be good fun working on stuff together.
I'm sort of used to attending things like this, being asked what I write, and pulling one of my published books out of my laptop bag to save time explaining. But it doesn't seem to get old for other people. They look at me like I've arrived from another planet. Seriously though, writers are just normal people.
Scratch that - we are really weird, but apart from that we're normal, whatever that means.
In the meantime, daily life around here includes trying new ways of keeping the dog cool. I've never seen her pant so much - or lie around languidly for such long periods of time. Yesterday I tried putting her in a sink full of cold water after her walk. She unfortunately associated this with a bath, so it took her a long time to relax. I seriously do not understand her. Baths seem so relaxing to me.
I've had the privilege of looking over the interior of Consort to the Shadows, Part One this past week. Together with my author care manager, we've been working on improving the overall look. It's beginning to look really good, and I'm so excited to hold it soon!
I wonder how long shipping takes to Australia from the USA.

One of the cool things about living in Australia is that you get to use Amazon. New Zealand is missing out. My husband has become extremely excited about Amazon, and he's ordered three or four things in the last ten days alone. One was an air fryer that came in a massive box which contained another massive box which contained a third less massive box that actually contained the product we bought. Has anyone ever told Amazon they're not very efficient with packing?
Still, our New Zealand packers could learn a thing or two from them. They destroyed our dinner set and my antique soup tureen.
And in the meanwhile, the heat continues. 37 today again. Nothing new on that front. Still, you've got to admit that the giant blue sky behind the gum trees does look pretty spectacular. I just have the ceiling fan on three throughout the night so that I can sleep. It's kind of like having a helicopter permanently landing in your room. The sheets are blasted against your body and loose papers go flying about. Sometimes I wonder if the fan will fly right off and decapitate me during the night. Still, I'm too hot to care!
More soon.

Big blue skies on the way out to the Weir.

Kiwis in the Outback: A Lesson on the Watermelon

1/20/2019

My husband holding a proper watermelon.

Well, this past week has had some fantastic developments - the first of which is that we have internet properly installed! Hooray. Now I can do my writing and blogging from home instead of in the library.
We had an interesting journey with Belong internet. First, the courier left our package on the front doorstep of our rental, even though we had told Belong to deliver it to the local post office, as we wouldn't be in the country for another couple of weeks. Thankfully, our local pastor kindly picked up our modem before someone stole it. Next, Belong delayed our installation somewhat, so we rang up to talk to them about it. Every time we rang them up, the call went something like this:
"Hello, this is Yvette, and I wanted to call about--"
"Sorry, I can't hear you. I can't hear you - are you there?"
"HELLO, THIS IS YVETTE--"
"I can't hear you, sorry, I can't hear you, are you actually there?"
"HELLO, THIS--"
Click.
Ugh. We rang them up from two different phones, and every time we had the same result. This was because their phone line was being updated, apparently. (Is "updated" code for downgraded?) In the end, I complained in a comment on their Facebook page, which got a response very fast. And now we're connected.

In the meantime, everyone in town is eating watermelon, which I suppose is unsurprising as this is the watermelon capital of Australia, and they do have a massive model slice of watermelon at the front of town. (I keep wanting to take a picture with said slice, but because the melon festival is coming up, the local council is very protective of it. They've fenced it off with orange netting and even sometimes set a couple of watchmen/workers over it.) Watermelon was sixty cents a kilo the other day at the farmer's market, so I picked up a ten kilogram monster. I keep telling my husband we're eating so exotically here, with all the dragon fruit, rock melon, and watermelon. He pointed out that the word "exotic" implies foreign, but we actually live here now, so it's not exotic.
And because we live here, we've discovered that we've been eating watermelon wrong our whole lives. For a start, the locals told us that you have to get the round ones that aren't too big or too small. They should be the ones that have zero black seeds. Apparently, the football shaped black-seeded watermelons are a necessary evil with the breeding process, but they're not good to eat.
Well, blow me down, because until I moved here I have only ever eaten football shaped black-seeded watermelons. The Australians I was talking to on this occasion informed me that it was because those particular melons weren't considered good enough for consumption or even for smashing at the melon festival. So they sent them to New Zealand. This was, of course, a joke. But they still seemed pretty pleased about it, and I suppose it is kind of funny living across the ocean from a country that is consuming all the worst melons and remaining completely ignorant about it.
So, my apologies, New Zealanders: many of you have never eaten a proper watermelon in your lives.

I also bought some tomato plants this past week, and I planted them in three different places in the back yard. Unfortunately, four died miserable deaths. I couldn't even see them when I went out to water them the next time. I assume the sun just gobbled them up. The other four are still hanging on. I planted them in the shade. Who could know you could have too much sun?
Apparently, this is the perfect weather for snakes. Someone a kilometer down the road from us had a brown snake (an innocuous name for the deadliest serpent in the world) in their backyard the other day. It slipped away, but that means it (and its invisible cronies) are still on the loose. So I'm wearing proper shoes and socks out there, despite the heat.
In all honesty, you could pretty much believe yourself somewhere much more ordinary than Australia most of the time. Obviously, there are parrots and crows and the occasional fruit bat. But the only unusual things I see daily are skink lizards and flying cockroaches (I prefer the lizards). Now and then, you'll see a kangaroo at the Weir. But the grass has gotten so long where they graze that they're mostly hidden. And I wouldn't want to walk through it unless I magically transformed into Steve Irwin. I know I haven't seen any snakes yet, but I'm not fooled. They're definitely out there.
Although, I'm saying all this while our house still has some form of pest protection on it. When that wears off, I may see more unusual things. We went to a friend's place for dinner the other night, and they were talking about red backs (poisonous spiders that are essentially the Australian version of the black widow).
"Do you know, our house had a red back infestation before we had it pest treated? I was trying to put my USB into my computer and it wouldn't go in. And when I scraped out the port, there was a very sick red back!"
"That's not too bad. We knew some friends who had a red back infestation so bad, they were just dropping into the baby's cot, ha ha ha!"
I used to live in Victoria in Australia where we were told red backs could kill you, so don't go rummaging in any wood piles without gloves, etc. In Queensland, people don't seem to have that much of a problem with them. Still, I can't imagine myself cheerfully going "ha ha ha!" if red backs were dropping onto furniture in my house.
One day, maybe, I'll be a true Queenslander.

By the way, just before I sign off - you know those beautiful pictures of the Whitsundays towards northern Queensland? Apparently those are taken during winter. In the wet season over summer, you sometimes don't see the sun for six weeks. And you can't really go swimming either, because the stingers (box jellyfish) and crocodiles are out and about and looking forward to meeting you/preying on you. So I think we wound up in the right place in Queensland. I love it here.
But then again, we've seen nothing but sun for the past ten days!

Exotic/local fruit.

Count Down: Consort to the Shadows, Part One

1/17/2019

Consort to the Shadows Cover Art - all rights reserved, 2019. By Ruth Germon and Tristan Fisher.

Few things please me more than announcing the release of the fifth book of The Fledgling Account, on February 15th! (Or February 16th, if you happen to be chilling in the Southern Hemisphere.) It has been some time in the making. Those of you who have followed my journey will perhaps remember I signed my four book publishing contract for Rafen, The Sianian Wolf, Servant of the King, and The Fourth Runi at age twenty. These four books were first released when I was twenty-two. I’m now nearly twenty-six, so there has certainly been a long wait for Consort to the Shadows. The reason for the wait was that my first publisher was not interested in publishing the next three books in The Fledgling Account series until I was able to sell “one hundred ebooks a day”. Where a first time author on this side of the world would get one hundred new buyers every day, I shall never know. Thankfully, Hartline Literary Agency gave me a chance. One of their very successful agents, Cyle Young, represented me to several publishers, and Burnett Young decided they wanted to publish all seven of my books. By this time, I had the rights back for the first four books. This meant that books one to four got new editions and new covers, and books five to seven had a chance to be published.
Thanks to Burnett Young, I am now able to see (and soon hold) something I once did not allow myself to hope for: book five, Consort to the Shadows.
It’s been a long time, but some of you will still remember the cliffhanger that The Fourth Runi finished on - Rafen had discovered he was the Fourth Runi, a great king destined to save the world from the demonic power of Nazt; he had married Etana, the heir to the Sianian throne; and together, they had had a child: Amari. However, Prince Richard Patrick - a fraud who pretends to be the Fourth Runi so that he can have the power and fame attached to the title - has captured Rafen and put him under house arrest, forcibly separating him from Etana. He is determined to have Rafen executed through various false charges so that his rival for the throne and Etana is terminated.
Consort picks up at this point. Rafen is nearly seventeen. He is older and wiser than he was in previous books, and he’s become less impetuous. However, his trials have hardened him into one of the most resolute young men to walk the Mio Pilamùr. He has prepared a killer defense for his trial before Richard Patrick and the public, and devised a back up plan in case things go wrong… and his back up plan involves a dragon.
When Richard is thwarted in his attempts to have Rafen killed, he settles for a sentence of lifetime banishment from Siana. Knowing he must prove himself to the people to dethrone the fraud Runi, Rafen departs Siana with his baby daughter and Sherwin, aiming for Zal Ricio ‘el Nria - the land of dragons. He intends to build an army there, so that he can return to Siana to rule.
More obstacles await him. The Zaldian ruler’s brother and the country’s champion dragon rider Tirok conspire against Rafen, forcing him into a deadly combat to prove himself so that the Zaldians grant him enough men to return to Siana with. Rafen has a limited amount of time to train for the most dangerous dragon fight he has ever experienced - and Tirok plans to press his advantage and kill when he has the chance.
Rafen and his dragon steed Eil must train to face their worst nightmares on dragon back. If they don’t, the Fourth Runi will fall - and so too will the world that so desperately needs him to save it.

When I do the full cover reveal, you’ll notice that this book is labeled “part one”. While it was in editing, my publisher decided it would be prudent to split the book into two. Hence, a “part two” will be coming. This means this series will effectively be eight books - not something I intended, although hopefully something that proves for the better.
Part two continues to follow Rafen’s story as an old injury he received from the Lashki Mirah in book four flares up and threatens to rob him of his kesmalic powers - and his life. His search for answers will take him right into the Lashki’s inner court, where he will need to play a part to find the secret that will save him.
The title of this book refers to several things. It’s no secret these books add another title to Rafen’s rather long list, showing a different facet of his character and his powers. Consort to the Shadows was originally named so because Rafen has to pretend to side with his worst enemy to find out the truth about a progressing injury he has. But the title can also refer to a variety of things. One who “consorts” associates with particular people. And Richard Patrick does some consorting with the shadows in this volume, which opens a window into his character and shows what makes him tick. Other people consort with the wrong characters as well, and this impacts how they treat family members, spouses, and their country. So the title has some broad meanings, and then some that apply specifically to part two.
I’m pleased to say that the book includes a spunky dragon. I hope for that reason alone that it will be enjoyed.
Bring on February 15th! (Or the 16th.)

Kiwis in the Outback: Thirty-Eight Degrees and Counting

1/15/2019

Chinchilla Weir at dusk.

It's been exactly eight days since we immigrated to Australia, and so far things are going pretty well. I have to admit that I do fluctuate between full of energy and wiped out. I probably still have some jet leg, and the heat is rather... well, hot. It's thirty-eight degrees today, I believe. And the weekly forecast goes something like this:

Thursday: 37 degrees.
Friday: 37 degrees.
Saturday: 37 degrees.
Sunday: 37 degrees.
Monday: 37 degrees.
Tuesday: 37 degrees...

You get the picture. It's been a bit of a baptism by fire, but we are coping. I've had some more singing and piano students sign up - mainly singers - and I now have twenty music students looking forward to beginning the school year with a new music tutor. In the meantime, we've organised ourselves with some food, tidied up the house a bit, updated our address on a few things, and bought bits and pieces we needed, like a hose end and a proper sunhat (one the size of a small continent). I was, I thought, quite sensible, and I bought some compression bandages in case of a snake bite.
To my surprise, it doesn't seem that many people think about this. Someone told me at coffee this morning that I was probably more prepared than many of the people in town. I'm also probably a deal more jumpy. Every time I'm gardening and something moves, I jump about a mile. But hey, what's life without a little excitement and heart failure? Haven't seen a snake yet, so that's all good. A number of different things have bitten me so far, but I always wake up in the morning, so that's positive too. And I tell myself that if I die, I die. The gardening still needs to be done.
So much for that.
By the way, we've had more experiences with the ants. They were in church this past Sunday. Michael and I were sitting there trying to surreptitiously slap them to death while they crawled all over our feet and nipped us between our toes during the long prayer. After the service, I took the bull by the horns and said to someone:
"Look, this might sound weird to you, but I was wondering - do you guys notice the ants?"
"Funny you should say that," one of the ladies said. "One of them got in my clothes this morning and bit me on the hip! There are rather a lot of them. Probably time to get the pest man in."
I felt relieved that we weren't the only ones.

Michael and I took our kayak to the Weir the other night. Now, I might not have mentioned that Michael got a Grab One deal before we left New Zealand and bought a well-priced inflatable kayak. This also meant that we were fifteen kilograms over our weight limit for the airport when travelling, but hey, you have to live a little. We left some academic books behind in New Zealand. No big deal. We'll get them again soon.
Anyway, we took the kayak to the Weir and inflated it while a bunch of cowboy-hatted Australian men watched us from their bench with fascination. No wonder. Everyone around here has a massive four-wheel drive. No need for an inflatable kayak. You could fit a boat inside.
Inflating the kayak was more exercise than kayaking itself. Michael had wanted to take the dog with us in the kayak, which I wasn't sure was such a good idea. She was shaking in terror. Michael promised to take her on his lap, and off we finally went (although not before a tree branch laden with our favourite flesh-eating ants collapsed on the kayak while Michael was blowing it up - insert frantic killing here). After a shaky start, we started to enjoy ourselves. The Weir was beautiful, and we entered some shaded areas of the waterway, where the ghost gum trees stood like sentinels on one side and the fully-leaved eucalyptus trees stretched their parrot-laden branches over us. Peyton kept trying to get out, which worried Michael and I because the last time we'd tried to take her swimming she had nearly drowned.
We made it safely around the Weir and glided back to the bank, where we placed our kayak under a gum tree and prayed more ants wouldn't rain down on it. Then we went for a swim. You know how in New Zealand water, it can be really difficult to get all the way in when you're swimming? For me, it's often a real effort. Anyway, we felt nothing but relief once we got right into the water. We felt adventurous and decided to test whether Peyton could swim once and for all. We passed her between ourselves, and to our surprise, she swam rather well. Although, every time she glimpsed the shore behind us, she started determinedly heading for that and kept paddling in the air even when she was picked up. She still seems terrified of water. (This explains bath times completely.)
Anyway, these are our adventures to date. I need to finish up shortly so that I can write more on my book and steel myself to walk the dog. People keep asking me if I've melted yet. They mustn't realise the stamina Kiwis in the Outback can have...

Peyton's method of coping with the heat.

Consort to the Shadows to Release February 15th

1/13/2019

Consort to the Shadows, impartial cover art, 2019. By Ruth Germon and Tristan Fisher. All rights reserved.

It's with great pleasure that I announce the upcoming release date of Consort to the Shadows, Part One. This book will be releasing on February 15th, this year. Leading up to the release date of this book, I will posting updates along the way to remind you where the series took you in the last book and to give you hints about what this next volume will contain.

I will create a book release event on Facebook for February 15th. However, since most of my immediate readers are in the Southern Hemisphere, it will actually take place on February 16th for all of you. This is most appropriate, because February 16th (Ki Zion 16th in the books) is Rafen's birthday, and the most important day in the Festival of Zion. If you decide to join, you will be able to see more updates during the day. I'm looking forward to continuing the journey the first four Fledgling Account books began.

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Consort to the Shadows, Part One
(Back Cover Text)

“Have you found a dragon?” Rafen’s voice barely repressed his excitement.

An egg Sherwin has discovered in the Cursed Woods unexpectedly gives Rafen hope. In the meantime, Prince Richard Patrick is planning his execution, and a Zaldian dragon fighting champion is preparing to murder Rafen in a public challenge before his people. Rafen must defeat the dragon rider Tirok so that he can win the right to lead a Zaldian army back to Siana, where he will overcome Richard and secure the throne. The Lashki Mirah has been strangely inactive lately. Is it because of the black wound Rafen bears on his left hand? And will Rafen’s worsening injury get the better of him before he can win his army?

Kiwis in the Outback: Adventures in Oz begin

1/10/2019

Moturua Bay, in the Bay of Islands

I'm sitting in Chinchilla library in Queensland as I write this. I wanted to write several days back, but couldn't get enough internet to publish a blog post.
What a whirlwind time it's been!
To start where I left off: my husband and I finished up work in Christchurch and then spent a week trying to relax and do touristy things, like the river walk around the CBD. However, some of these things were a lot of effort, as the weather remained ridiculously cold. We did the river walk in a miserable fourteen degrees, with rain drizzling on us. Towards the end of our time in Christchurch, I developed a terrible sinus infection from all the hay fever. Every time I bent over, I thought my head would explode. It seems weird writing this now, as my sinuses are completely clear and my head feels light. Anyhow, I had to take some serious medication so that I could fly without my eardrum blowing up.
In the meantime, we attempted to sell my car, which had been hit and run in November, the first time we had attempted to sell it. We had paid the money to fix it, only to discover that closer to Christmas, everyone is broke and doesn't want to buy a car. Then the car door handle stopped working from where the panel beater had messed around with it. When we took it back to the panel beater, he could see that he was in trouble, and he offered to buy it for a measly $500. I was so tired and stressed that I accepted it - and then shed a bitter tear when I saw he was trying to on-sell it for $1400 on Facebook. And he had had the gall to tell us it was barely worth anything!
But the time came to move on, and we headed to the North Island for a round of farewells. There, we spent a wonderful five days on Moturua Island in the Bay of Islands. My husband's grandfather has several houses on the island, and it was a privilege as always to experience the bay in privacy. Kayaking around the calm ocean waters afforded some amazing views.
From there we went to Hamilton to farewell my family. We enjoyed half a day out at the stunning Hamilton Gardens.
And then before we knew it, immigration day was upon us. My in-laws saw us off at the airport, and we got on the plane, only to discover we were in one of the few aisles that had no window at all. So our first sight of our new home was a tiny slice of the window in the row in front of us, that we could just see if we leaned forward and twisted our necks in the right direction.
My writer friend Russell Proctor put us up again for the night at his house in Brisbane. It was a pleasure to chat with him and greet his cat Humphrey (most reverently). The next morning, we picked up our dog from the Qantas cargo center. When the forklift brought her crate around and she lifted her little head at the sound of our voices, I was actually very moved. If you've never had a pet that you adored, you probably wouldn't understand. If you have, you'll know the gentle power they exert over you.
We discovered Peyton had wet herself in terror before or during flying. Her crate was absolutely saturated. So we had to bath her soon afterward. She was so relieved to see us that she fell asleep at my feet in the car.
Then we did something which - in retrospect - was probably insane, and we headed to the Gold Coast for a day, staying with a friend of Michael's for the night. The Gold Coast is stunning, there's no doubt about it. But I have to say, the humidity was simply crushing. I had never felt anything like it. Even a cold-blooded reptile like me was dying a slow, agonising death. And I was exhausted after immigrating the day before.
The next morning, we got up at four thirty, put ourselves, our luggage, and our dog in the car, and drove to Chinchilla, to be there by nine thirty. We met with our landlord and landlady, and got a quick tour of the house. I have to admit, I was very out of it. Getting up at four thirty does that to you. The local Presbyterian pastor arrived to give us a hand, and then the moving truck pulled up twenty minutes later, and it was all go, all day. The day soared to approximately thirty-five degrees, and I frequently felt like I was on the point of collapse, because I kept forgetting to eat and drink in my frenzy to make sure we had everything there. The pastor grabbed us fruit, food, and coffee, and helped us tirelessly till the end of the day. By the end, we had all our rooms more or less sorted and the most important things were organised - a bed to sleep in and a working fridge to stick our heads in if we died of heat.
The pastor and his wife generously had us to tea, and then we slept the sleep of the dead that night. Today has been busy too, but I'm beginning to feel more and more at home. I feel that we've definitely come to the right place. And to think, I had never heard of Chinchilla eight months ago!
Today, we applied for medicare, registered our dog, and got library cards. We also did a huge grocery shop that broke the bank. But it means we now have meat. I'm still waiting for a breeze to come up so that I can walk the dog. I keep getting warned that a carpet python might come along and eat her. I haven't seen any of those fiendish creatures yet... but it may not be long.
If/when I see one, I will take a picture. I promise to take pictures of many interesting things that we see here.
Certainly, not all wildlife is friendly. I stepped on the grass last night to be nipped in numerous places by little ants. But hey, at least they weren't fire ants. It could have been infinitely worse!

More soon...

A true skyscraper, on the Gold Coast.

Write on.