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Waterspell by Deborah J. Lightfoot |
A Few of the Nice Things that People Have Said:
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Waterspell
Book
1:
The
Warlock
“What?” she exclaimed. “You don't intend to hand me over to Verek, do you? If you betray me to that devil, he’ll kill me.”
Carin groped in the dark, trying in vain to lay hands on the woodsprite and shake sense into the creature.
“Listen to me! Verek barely stopped short of taking my head off when he caught me on his land. And now, besides being a trespasser, I’m a runaway and a thief. Oh, he shouldn’t be surprised, since he knew that I had run and I had stolen from my first master. But this time it’s his servant who ran, and it’s his good knife that’s missing, and it’s the bread and meat stolen from his table.” Carin made a quick mental inventory, and realized she had yet more to account for. “I also helped myself to those amazing healing powders that Verek makes. And to top it all, I stole the mare. Horse-thieving is a capital crime.
“Tell me, my faithless friend,” Carin demanded. “Why should Verek bother to come to my rescue? When you’ve found him and told him what has happened, why shouldn’t he laugh at you and say, ‘Let the dogs have her—she deserves her death—they’re saving me the trouble of hanging her’?”
“The mage will come for you,” replied the woodsprite with a certainty that discouraged argument. “There are, after all, only the two of us—a thieving runaway and a nameless woodsprite—who can give him the answers he seeks. He desires to know our secrets. He can’t rely on me to reveal the mystery. He must, therefore, rely on you.
“He seeks you even now—of that, I’m sure. He’ll ride through the night to save you. The mage must have your help to solve the riddle that we pose him ... the riddle of two lost travelers, maid and woodsprite, who are from elsewhere.”
© 2009 by Deborah J. Lightfoot / All Rights Reserved
The wizard looked at her with something peculiar in his gaze.
“It’s late,” he said. “You and I must speak of many things, before this journey’s done, but tonight you should rest—for we’ll be off on the morrow before the sun is over the earth’s edge.” He canted his head. “Pray favor me, however, with a bit of thought in that nimble brain of yours, and consider the words I spoke to you today. As the sleeper shuts the window against the fiends of night, and the gateman hoists the drawbridge in the enemy’s face, you may be called to like service. Perhaps your thoughts have not yet ordered themselves as mine have, but you possess knowledge enough to reckon as I do. Think on what I say.”
He strode to the door and was gone, leaving Carin to her cherished solitude. She barred the door, then stripped to her skin for another night between smooth sheets.
Sleep did not come easily, however, on top of a cold, greasy meal and Verek’s odd speech. His words echoed in her mind. Why did the warlock speak so pointedly of evil things crawling through the night, as though he wished to fill her dreams with frights?
The last misty notion in Carin’s head, before sleep nudged it away, was a vague impression of a wobbly rope bridge—its near end anchored to the side of a mountain, its far reaches seeming to float on a mirror-smooth ocean—with an army of demons and firedrakes, corpse-candles and creeping horrors, massed on that far shore and making ready to cross.
© 2009 by Deborah J. Lightfoot / All Rights Reserved
Questions? Comments? djls@djlightfoot.com
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“Definitely captures interest ... Carin immediately becomes an interesting POV character, with a nice sense of mystery surrounding her. Verek is intriguing, as well. The threat is tangible with a compelling sense of consequences. Intriguing that the danger isn’t simply the standard ‘gathering armies of mass destruction’ ... A nice balance between the rustic sense of a medieval world and a voice that will be recognizable to the modern audience.”
—Steve Saffel, Del Rey editor, in his capacity as a Finals
judge for the SouthWest Writers Contest,
Science Fiction/Fantasy Novel Category
“It is extraordinary! Remarkable! The only problem is I can't stop reading it—how am I going to get anything else done? This is what happens when you get started with a writer who has the gift!”
—Jan Peck, award-winning author
“Beware—not of the Jabberwock but of the spell woven in this finely crafted tale of love and mysterious fantasy. The strong narrative is firmly grounded in research of period colloquialisms, folk beliefs, and foods, so while one is immersed in the adventure, one is also absorbing cogent historical details. Quite a satisfying read!”
—An Honors English teacher