Let's Talk About Asshats Part Deux

Here's a question for you--why is it that the trolls who populate the internet rarely seem to have an idea of how the internet works? What's up with that? 

I mean--intelligent people see social media, websites, and blogs as a medium for their views, pastimes, hobbies, and thoughts, right? That's certainly why I use the internet and probably you as well. So how in the world does an asshat not realize that how they use the internet reflects upon their own behavior and mentality? 

Let's try a hypothetical situation and see if we can decipher this quandry. Let's say, for example, that a blogger writes a post a month or so back about the behavior of asshats. (for further reference, you might want to hypothetically check out my earlier post about asshats) And that one of the asshats I referred to in that post suddenly calls the nationally televised show he's been abusing non-stop on social media, and launches a five-minute diatribe about that same blogger.

During the course of this tirade of asshattery, the asshat says the following, "I see what she says on the Twitter even though I have her blocked and the blog post she wrote about me." 

Does the asshat not realize he's just given the blogger's post a sudden explosion of hits as callers who hate his asshat ass click on the very-conveniently posted link to that particular blog post? And does the asshat not realize that by confessing that he follows the blogger's Twitter feed despite having her blocked is a confession that he has a sockpuppet account? And that he is admitting to the world that he's so obsessed with the blogger he calls a "witch", "that damn woman", "a idiot", et cetera that he is literally cyber-stalking her?

Let's take that a step further. 

It takes a serious asshat to go on a misogynistic rant on a national TV show and not comprehend what he is revealing about himself. That's asshattery that's off the charts on the asshat scale. The asshat couldn't have been more clear about his bigotry if he'd said, "By the way, I hate ALL women but especially that damn woman who dares to laugh at me, shred my ego, use me as an example of asshattery, and refuses to be intimidated by my bigotry. Why? Because I'm an asshat." 

Here's the deal--asshat who allegedly has 'blocked' me and yet continues to follow my every word online. That's just hilarious. Every insult you throw at me is music to my ears. There's nothing but laughter in my heart when you run around and prove to the world what an idiot you really are--a bona fide nutcase who proclaims his asshattery like it's a campaign slogan. And what makes it even funnier is that I KNOW you are reading this blog post, and I KNOW you know it's about you. 

Being an asshat must be tough. So many genetic disadvantages to overcome. 

Prejudice, Hate Speech, the First Amendment, and Online Interactions

Author's note--there are offensive words in this post, but they are used for a reason. In order to demonstrate the points regarding hate speech, the First Amendment, and the climate of our current society, the use of offensive terms is, in my opinion, necessary. If you are a bigot or a member of the Westboro Baptist Church, you might want to stop reading now. If you're neither, then continue.

This isn't the first blog post I've written today.

My latest satire piece on asshats comes out tomorrow afternoon. But I was involved in a couple of incidents today that have me questioning some of the tenets I've always supported unequivocally for my entire life--and that leads me to consider the dichotomy between freedom of speech and what it defends--hate speech. This evening, an online acquaintance of mine made an anti-gay comment that pretty much led me to see red--and when I challenged him regarding his comment, he replied that he had freedom of speech and could say anything he wanted to.

And that's true. To a point.

This is a tough issue. Let me get some things out of the way immediately. 

First off, I am so absolutely flabbergasted that prejudice and bigotry is so deeply rooted in our society that it continues to this day. I was a little kid when forced busing began in American schools. I grew up in the first generation after 'separate but equal' was bounced as the norm. I grew up in the first generation of kids who were taught in desegregated schools. I have never experienced or felt that there was any difference between the races. As I grew into adulthood, that lack of prejudice expanded to include other so-called minority groups--women, the LGBT community, religious groups. I'll be honest--I could give a rat's ass about classifying people as superior/inferior based upon any prejudice at all. 

So the hatred still thriving in our society for any group just boggles my mind. 

Second--let's clear up my opinion on freedom of speech. The government has absolutely no right to restrict the freedom of speech for its citizens. This is something I will never budge on. If I want to say that I think the US government is full of bantha poodoo, they cannot impose penalties on me for saying it. Nor can they restrict any of the people who subscribe to discriminatory beliefs--and I think that's a great thing and absolutely support it.

But let's get something else out of the way too. The First Amendment of the Constitution reads as follows:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances..

Freedom of speech means the GOVERNMENT cannot restrict what we say. The GOVERNMENT cannot censor what we write. The GOVERNMENT cannot prevent us from gathering in protest or assembly. The GOVERNMENT cannot be held above the citizenry's right to petition them to address injustices in our country. The First Amendment is about the laws of our country. Period. End of discussion.

But here's the part the people who are screaming "Freedom of speech!" in regards to their prejudicial beliefs miss--the First Amendment doesn't say a damn thing about interpersonal interactions. Any fool has the right to say what the hell they want in any forum in the US. No one can be stopped by the government from making whatever misogynistic, racist, ageist, homophobic crap statements they want to make. Sure--you can be a bigot; that's your right. The government won't stop or challenge you. 

But I sure as hell will, and I have the right to do so. 

Hate groups like the Westboro Baptist Church cite the First Amendment every time they protest a soldier's funeral with signs that read GOD HATE FAGS. A 2011 article in the New York Times by Adam Liptak breaks down the SCOTUS ruling on Westboro that upholds their right to act like homophobic dimwits and mock a family's grief.

“Speech is powerful,” Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. wrote for the majority. “It can stir people to action, move them to tears of both joy and sorrow, and — as it did here — inflict great pain.”

But under the First Amendment, he went on, “we cannot react to that pain by punishing the speaker.” Instead, the national commitment to free speech, he said, requires protection of “even hurtful speech on public issues to ensure that we do not stifle public debate.”

 And here's where the crux of the situation truly lies. I have no problem with the bigots at Westboro saying what they do with their pathetic little signs reflecting their pathetic little minds.Our Constitution guarantees they have the right to do so, and I'm cool with that because the same Constitution guarantees my right to stand a reasonable distance away from them so I can point, laugh, and express my opinion for their mindless zealotry that reflects absolutely nothing about the religion and Bible they purport to represent. But let's be for real here. Nowhere in the Bible does it say "Homosexuality is a sin and you will burn for it." Not even Leviticus does that--since it equates homosexuality with other assorted sins like eating pork, women wearing cosmetics, and men having long hair. The Ten Commandments don't mention homosexuality. And obviously, Westboro bigots and their ilk prefer to forget Biblical tenets like "Do to others as you would have them do to you." (Luke 6:31) or "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." (John 8:7) Don't believe me? Check this out.

(I am not a religious person, but it always amazes me that I know more about the Bible than a lot of people who spend all day thumping one. My opinions on THAT issue may come out in a later post.)

But bigotry and ignorance aside, I find myself wondering--is there a solution to hate speech that will not violate the First Amendment? On the face of it, the answer is--no, there isn't. We cannot preserve the freedom of speech and still somehow limit hate speech. After all, to someone absolutely convinced that homosexuality is a sin, my contrary opinion could be considered hate speech. Words like bigot, homophobe, and idiot aren't exactly terms of endearment. Although I will emphatically state that these terms are nowhere near as full of hatred as faggot or kike and so forth. That's why I am using these words--even the ones that represent hatred and outdated societal prejudices. Some of these regularly employed terms are so ugly that I can't bring myself to even type them--like the n-bomb or the c-word. (I'll try, but it may prove impossible)

There are a lot of people that do not share my squeamishness.

But what about on an interpersonal level? Like say, for example, online?

A bigot has the right to be a bigot and to say any bigoted thing he wants on social media.

And we have the right to call the bigot a bigot and point out their bigotry on social media.

This is an exchange of freedoms that, for some strange reason, a few bigots feel is somehow unfair. See, whenever someone starts waving the First Amendment around as a defense for their hate speech, they don't connect the fact that people who disagree with them have that same freedom. Somehow their freedom of speech is preferred over mine, for example. They know that freedom of speech is the reason that they can get away with what they say, but they don't know enough about the First Amendment to understand that it's geared toward protecting the citizenry from the government, not each other. And then they get surprised when their accusations or even civil suit alleging libel or slander are thrown out.

This blog is a good example. My right to blog about this is protected under the First Amendment. This is my medium; my platform. But when someone posts a blistering and rude comment--and someone will, and my bet is that they'll be from Kansas--they'll call it censorship when I do not give permission for their comment to be posted on this blog. They aren't smart enough to have read the Terms of Service, which gives the blogger(me) the right to screen comments before they are posted. So even though I am not the government or the representative of the government, they think that somehow their First Amendment rights have been violated.

But what does hate speech actually do for those who regurgitate it? The Westboro Baptist Church offended a lot of people with their protests at military funerals, exploiting the First Amendment in order to push their agenda. The soldier or the soldier's family most likely has nothing to do with the gay culture in our country. The Westboro protesters want to push their agenda in the most public way possible. They're click bait vultures, striving to get their agenda on television--and that's why they chose to protest at military funerals. Guaranteed free publicity. But their crusade has resulted in something uite different. As Reverend Jeff Hood said in a 2015 article in the Huffington Post:

With the ability to see what hate looks like in the flesh, I am convinced that Westboro has helped many Christians change their mind on human sexuality and gender orientation. On some level, I am thankful that God can use the lunatics among us to bring about God’s will.

But there's something else that spewers of hate speech should be aware of--there is an exclusion legally from First Amendment protection for specific interpersonal situations. And one of those exclusions can apply specifically to hate speech. Ever hear the phrase "Those are fighting words"?

Since the 1942 case of Chapinsky vs. New Hampshire,speech addressed to a person in a public place that could lead to a immediate retaliation or a breach of the peace is not protected under the First Amendment.

Allowing the broadest scope to the language and purpose of the Fourteenth Amendment, it is well understood that the right of free speech is not absolute at all times and under all circumstances. There are certain well defined and narrowly limited classes of speech, the prevention and punishment of which have never been thought to raise any Constitutional problem. These include the lewd and obscene, the profane, the libelous, and the insulting or "fighting" words -- those which, by their very utterance, inflict injury or tend to incite an immediate breach of the peace. It has been well observed that such utterances are no essential part of any exposition of ideas, and are of such slight social value as a step to truth that any benefit that may be derived from them is clearly outweighed by the social interest in order and morality. 

What does this mean?

This means that if someone comes up to another person in a public place and calls them a name that is likely to get them stomped all over the room, they cannot claim that their words are protected by the First Amendment. It's inciting violence--a breach of the peace--and in our society today, we all know a plethora of words and phrases that will get our faces punched. That's why Westboro Baptist Church "protesters" always walk a very fine line. Their signs don't say "God hates you, faggot" because that's likely to get them punched into a pool of blood and the First Amendment rights would not be upheld by a judge. Their signs say "God hates fags"--a non-specific anti-gay slur that is not directed at a single person. That way, they can push their agenda of hatred and still claim protection under freedom of speech.

Sound nitpicky?

That's because it is. Trust me--there are lawyers in the Westboro Baptist Church or the KKK or the American Nazi Party or any other hate group who know exactly how far they can go. These are organizations pushing an agenda, and they operate under very specific guidelines to protect themselves legally.

But I have to wonder--and maybe some time soon this will come before the Supreme Court--what about individuals? What about the internet? Does social media fall under the definition of 'public place' as defined by Chapinsky vs. new Hampshire? Do 'fighting words' on Twitter or Facebook fall under First Amendment protections? Or, do they constitute a potential breach of the peace and are therefore excepted from free speech parameters?

I'm not a constitutional scholar, so I have no idea. But I have a feeling, that one faggot'or the n-word or 'maybe even bigot is going to inspire some fool to get in their car, drive to the insulting party's house, and administer their own brand of rough justice. That's already happened in fact, as in this UK case. But I haven't yet heard of such a case in the US that includes a challenge based upon the First Amendment and the 'fighting words' outlined in Chapinsky.

I'd be willing to bet, though, that one is coming.

So think carefully about what you say in a public forum--whether online, broadcasting, or in the mall parking lot. There's a very good chance that the First Amendment is not only going to keep you from getting the crap kicked out of you if you drop the n-bomb, but it's also not going to grant you the right to make such a comment in the first place.

And let's be honest. Anyone who spews hatred like that? Not many people are going to weep when they get what's coming to them.

America has a long history of struggles with itself on issues of bigotry and hatred. God knows we've suffered for it in the past, and unfortunately we are still suffering for it today. We can no more stamp out prejudice than I can go out into my backyard here in a few weeks and stomp out all the 17-year cicadas that are about to destroy my flower beds. One of the bizarre and amazing uirks of our society is that although we struggle to maintain our identity as the land of the free and home of the brave, we permit those people who fight against the equality of all Americans to have their voice and protect their right to use that voice to express their beliefs. That's an amazing thing. But the core issue in my opinion isn't freedom of speech, but the seeds of prejudice that should have already been rooted out. So it seems appropriate to end this post with a remark by the Great Emancipator that, unfortunately, shows how little we've really grown and how much further we have to go.

“As a nation, we began by declaring that 'all men are created equal.' We now practically read it 'all men are created equal, except negroes.' When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read 'all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics.' When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretense of loving liberty – to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy.” ― Abraham Lincoln, Lincoln Letters

Kind of depressing, isn't it? How little we've changed?

And how far we have yet to go.

The Reckoning of Asphodel Release Day!

It's been ten years since my first book was published, but it doesn't matter. Even sixteen books later, release days are important. And scary. And fun...in a scary way. Because this is a reissue of a book that was rather successful it's a little more nerve-racking than most. Obviously, I couldn't change the voice of the original book even though my writing has matured since then. But I could--and did--go through it with a far more experienced red pencil and addressed some of the issues that should have been picked up on in its first incarnation. 

So this book is tighter, technically improved, and--since it's an author's cut--includes some scenes cut from the original version. 

Did I mention that it's free? 

Head on over to Amazon before May 7, and you can download a copy for free. After the promotion ends, the original sale price of $3.99 will go into effect. 

And four bucks isn't a lot to pay for six hundred pages of fantasy. 

As I write this, Asphodel has just cracked the top 100 sales list for epic fantasy, and is poised to do the same in sword and sorcery as well. 

Book release day is a good day. 

New Cover Art ; New Book-=-The Asphodel Cycle 2: The Redemption of Asphodel

Cover art makes me happy. Well done covers help your readers to visualize the characters in your story. I've been fortunate. Over the past six years or so, I've worked exclusively with cover artist and web diva Kelly Shorten, over at KMD Designs. She was one of my partners at Musa Publishing and is responsible for all those gorgeous Penumbra covers. Now she's an independent designer, and I am SO glad to be working with her again. You've already seen the gorgeous art for The Reckoning of Asphodel--now check out the even MORE gorgeous art for The Redemption of Asphodel!

Okay, let's be for real here. 

It's freaking amazing, right? 

You may be wanting to know more about this book, so here's the blurb: 

The battle of Asphodel and its aftermath has taken a toll upon Tamsen Ka’antira de Asphodel. Her Elven husband, Brial, is overprotective—and very aware that their greatest friend, Anner, is still in love with his wife. Still dangerously weak, Tamsen must help determine which noble is best suited to sit upon Ansienne’s alabaster throne—whether Brial likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the Duke de Spesialle isn’t done with Tamsen yet. The dream that once tortured her keeps changing, and despite Brial’s precautions, she must confront Spesialle again. But the Virgin Huntress has plans for Tamsen, and sends her on a journey to answer just one question: “What gift can buy the redemption of the Elves?”

But when Tamsen finally confronts the answer to the goddess’s question, she may discover that the one thing she must sacrifice to save her people is the one thing she is not strong enough to give.

The Asphodel Cycle 2: The Redemption of Asphodel will be released on June 6!

All that being said, next Tuesday, May 3, is the release of the first Asphodel novel The Reckoning of Asphodel. Stay tuned for buy links and--

Wait a second. I neglected to mention that for the first WEEK, The Reckoning of Asphodel will be offered for free. As in totally free. So take advantage of it--and if you do, a review on Amazon or Smashwords or wherever you purchase your copy would be greatly appreciated. 

Let me know what you think about my cover art or anything else Asphodel--I look forward to hearing from you!

A New Excerpt From The Reckoning of Asphodel

This is the second excerpt from my upcoming novel The Reckoning of Asphodel, which will be released on May 3, 2016. For more information about Asphodel, check out my website, Goodreads page, or my Amazon page. 

Tamsen de Asphodel watched as her parents were killed—murdered by her sorcerer uncle. Raised by her Elven kin, Tamsen knows her destiny is to avenge them both.

 

Unfortunately, Tamsen’s destiny is complicated. She is the sole heir to her human father’s estate, but she is also the last remaining heir to the Elven throne. The Elves, especially the Scout Brial, are suspicious of her human ties and her magical power. Her magic is unique—neither human nor Elven, dangerous, and difficult to control. And when she and Brial fall in love, it is a relationship the Elves will not accept.

 

But when her uncle moves to destroy the Elves, war explodes across both kingdoms. Only Tamsen, with Brial at her side, can bring human and Elf together to fight against him. In the reckoning that is coming, she will need both sides of her conflicted nature…and the aid of a goddess.

****

Within an hour, it was impossible to see further than twenty feet. I had taken the lead, but Brial was close behind. I had pulled my cloak so far forward, however, that I didn’t see the men charging at us from the sides of the road. 

“Get down!” Brial shouted hoarsely. 

As I turned to see what was going on, someone jerked me out of the saddle. I landed on my back with the breath knocked from me. A large man hovered into my line of sight. He grinned, three blackened, broken teeth hanging precariously from his upper jaw. I lay there, trying to gasp air back into my lungs as he leered at me. 

“Gots us a purty gel here boys!” he roared, bending down and picking me up by the front of my cloak. I felt the fabric rip under his dirty fingers and a cold realization surged through me. My breath came back into my chest with a whoosh and I gulped in fresh air. 

Then my eyes narrowed. 

“I am giving you one chance to back away from me,” I said, my voice still a bit breathless. He laughed, throwing back his head, and the teeth teetered in his gums. Behind me, I heard steel on steel. Brial was fighting. The man swept me against him with one blow of his meaty arm. Try as I might, I couldn’t free myself. As I closed my eyes and reached for the magic, I felt his ugly face nuzzle into my hair. 

Two things happened next. As gorge rose in my throat at the man’s touch, an electric charge zipped out from me, blasting the ruffian back with an oath. Then a sword point thrust through the front of his beefy chest. I watched, stunned, as the outlaw slid down the cold steel edge, falling almost in slow motion to puddle at my feet. 

My mind flashed back. Blood on the snow. 

Flakes swirling in a howling wind, while the ground stained red with blood. The sickly sweet smells of cooked meat. The flash of a sword against a slender throat— 

Are you all right, Tamsen?” Brial was shaking me, his face white. 

I pulled back to the present, my gaze meeting his then sliding past him. There were two other bodies lying in the churned snow, already stained by a sluggish crimson flow. 

Brial swore. “You don’t have time to be faint now. I only drove the others away! They’ll be back, Tamsen.” He worked quickly, wiping the sword on the outlaw’s jerkin and driving it into its sheath. Turning, he whistled, and the horses trotted up. “Can you stay on?” 

“I’m fine, Brial.” I forced out the words from between numb lips. “Let’s just ride.” 

We turned our horses and fled into the teeth of the storm. It was only after we galloped away that I wondered: had I killed the man, or had Brial? I looked down at my hands in a daze. Surely, the shock I had released was only enough to stun the outlaw. 

The smell of roasted meat hung in my nostrils until several miles lay between the newly dead men and us. It took us two hours at a dismayingly slow pace to reach the next village. 

2016--The Year The Music Died

First Bowie. Then Merle Haggard. Now...Prince?

I can't believe it. 

Prince was an integral part of my growing from adolescence into womanhood--an independent musician intent upon having his own way, creating music no one else had ever thought of, and riding the charts to unbelievable popularity. 1984 was the year of Purple Rain--my senior year in high school/first year of college. Despite the earlier songs I was familiar with, Prince was an enigma to me, a punk girl trapped in the country music of the Deep South. Purple Rain was an awakening for me musically--a conceptual album that told a story, but not as high brow as Bowie or as insistent as Pink Floyd. 

And that story was the kind of thing important to a 17-year-old girl. His music spoke of emotion and sex and violence, wrapped in the imagery of a novelist and the words of a rebellious poet. He wrote songs about things that no one else dared to--Darling Nikki, anyone?

I met a girl named Nikki
I guess you can say she was a sex fiend.
Met her in a hotel lobby
Masturbating with a magazine.
She said, "How'd you like to have a good time?"
And I just couldn'r resist
When Nikki started to grind-- 
             --Prince and the Revolution, Purple Rain 1984 ™

Prince was the anti-Michael Jackson--an artist of color who didn't give a rat's ass what anyone thought about the fact that he was five foot nothing, wore high heels, and dressed like a New Romantic. He was a virtuoso musician who could play multiple instruments, and one of the best guitarists in music. His voice was unbelievably rangy--a full FOUR octaves plus four or five additional notes surrounding his natural baritone.He created an iconography around himself that even in an era where all the great musicians were doing that, his stood above the others for its sheer audacity and playfully malicious message. His sexuality was endlessly debated--and yet, no one had any doubt that if you pissed Prince off, he would kick your ass.

And then run over you with his souped-up purple motorcycle.

He was an androgynous bad ass, whose work as a producer was almost as revolutionary as his music. He brought us one of the great party anthems of all time thanks to his introduction of Morris Day and the Time to the world, and one of the greatest love songs and vocal performances ever with Sinead O'Connor's version of Nothing Compares 2 U. Hell, we wouldn't have text-speak if he hadn't done it first.

He took a stand against the big record label who'd tied up the rights to his music, and emerged as "the artist formerly known as Prince"--a stand that might have ended up killing another musician's career. Two years ago, he won the rights to that music back, effectively bringing Warner Brothers to their knees after he'd termed their contracts "slavery" two decades before. And then he triumphantly re-signed with them, having regained the rights to his entire catalog.

Prince was a legend, and became one very early on. I respected his independent spirit, his fearlessness in standing up to a corporate giant, and the poetry infused into every lyric he ever wrote. My kids grew up hearing Purple Rain and Controversy. Bowie they liked; Prince, they loved.

That summer of 1984, I was driving home from work and When Doves Cry was on the radio. I was one of those sing along in the car kind of kids. I had an orange VW Bug that I loved, and driving through Clarksville, Tennessee with the top down and Prince cranking on a hot summer's day was a pretty awesome feeling. When I got home, surprisingly, my mother was waiting for me. I instantly tried to figure out what I'd done to get into trouble, and then she told me that my best friend had been killed in a car wreck that morning.

I'd talked to Tammy on the phone the night before. We had big plans for college--after years of debating against each other for different high schools, we were at last going to be debating together on the same team. We were excited, because fall semester was only a few weeks away. I'd known Tammy since we were both toddlers. She and I lived five houses apart back then. Her death was the first tragedy to ever touch me that closely.

And ever since, When Doves Cry has inextricably been associated with her death in my mind.

That summer and fall, I played Prince's Purple Ran album over and over. When Doves Cry might have been tied to death for me, but the rest of the album was exuberantly, vibrantly, sexually full of life and the joie de vivre that Prince's iconic album exuded. It helped me cope with loss, and taught me that all the changes a teenager undergoes are an essential part of life--not wrong, but defiantly normal and oh-so-right.Living in the same state as the hypocritical Tipper Gore and her stupid parental advisory labels on music (and now video games) made his defiance of society's "acceptable" norms even more impactful--and taught me as a writer to push the boundaries myself and to seek the rarer paths in my work

An important lesson, for something that was "just" pop music.

So today, after losing David Bowie and dealing with his incredible self-designed epitaph, after losing an icon of country music in singer-songwriter Merle Haggard (not my cup of tea, but what an incredible story and human being he was)--now we must confront the horror of a world without Prince.

I am a child of the 80's. The pop culture of that decade has influenced my taste as an adult, for good or for ill. Music is what taught me to be a rebel--and that rebellion is epitomized in two artists: David
Bowie, and Prince.

I'm sure somewhere, among his things or upcoming music, Prince has composed his own epitaph. But if he hasn't, that's all right--because he wrote it thirty years ago.

How can you just leave me standing?

Alone in a world that's so cold

Maybe I'm just too demanding

Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold

Maybe I'm just like my mother

She's never satisfied

Why do we scream at each other?

This is what it sounds like when doves cry...

          --When Doves Cry, Prince and the Revolution, 1984 ™

There is no doubt about it. 2016 is the year the music died.

First Excerpt from The Reckoning of Asphodel

As promised, here's the first excerpt from my upcoming book release, The Reckoning of Asphodel, coming May 3, 2016!

We did not have long to wait. Less than a minute later, I saw the bobbing of torches through the trees. Thirty seconds after that, they thundered around the bend. The leader pulled up when he saw the flaming arrow burning merrily in front of him. Over my head, bowstrings sang as Mylan and Morrote fired two more flaming arrows to land near the first.

The leader’s horse reared and the man had all he could do to control it. I watched in cold silence while he struggled with his mount. Once the horse was calmed, I called out in a clear voice. “You have entered Asphodel without my permission, stranger. What is your name and affiliation?”

“Who in the hell are you?”

“I am Tamsen, Countess of Asphodel,” I retorted. “You did not answer my question, commander! The light is in your eyes, not mine, and I can see your uniforms and insignia.”

“Lord Spesialle ordered me to prepare this castle for occupation.”

“Spesialle has no claim to Asphodel. His claim is forfeit, as is due a regicide and traitor.”

A low murmur broke out among the troops, but the commander ignored it. “How do I know that what you say is true?”

“You don’t,” I said pleasantly. “However, I should inform you that I have a company of Elven archers behind my walls that are itching to use you for target practice.”

“I don’t believe the lies of any squatting peasant wench,” the commander growled. “My orders are to take this—”

Before I knew what was happening, the man screamed. Brial had notched and fired an arrow that pierced the man’s leg in the half-inch gap between the bottom of his mail shirt and the top of his high, thick leather boot. “If you speak one more word about my lady the next arrow will be through your throat!” he called in a clear, cold voice. “Any man that moves in this direction will die. Make your decision quickly. We want to have enough time to burn your corpses and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Good shot,” Glaucon noted with dispassionate approval.

“Easy shot,” Brial shrugged even as his voice grew tighter. “Even after Tamsen warned them, they kept their torches burning.”

The commander grimaced in agony as he removed the arrow from his leg. He examined the distinctive Elven fletching, and then said something low to the men at his back.

As he began to turn his horse’s head, I called out, “Take this message back to your master, dog: Asphodel is once again held by the heir of the house, and will remain so. On the day he enters my lands, I will kill him with my own hand. There is no succor in Asphodel for the man who killed our King.”

He glared at me silently, his face twisted with hatred. Then, his troop turned their horses and sped into the night.

“You should return to the castle, milady,” Anner suggested. I could just see his gray eyes glint in the moonlight. “They may try to double back. Glaucon and I will keep watch.”

Before I could respond, Brial gripped my arm and steered me back into the castle. Grimly, he marched me up the steps and into my room. Once there, he tossed his bow in a corner and glared at me.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Why did you do that?” he grated. “What plausible excuse for such idiocy can you possibly have?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“The only reason this castle could be safe for you is if your uncle doesn’t know for certain that you are here!” Brial shouted. “Now he not only knows where you are, but you make matters worse by sending him a message that a man like him cannot ignore.”

“It doesn’t matter if he knows for certain or not.” I retorted, my own temper rising. “He’ll come here regardless, Brial. He needs Asphodel to act against the Elves.”

“You don’t know that.” Brial enunciated carefully, evidently trying to rein in his temper. “You are only guessing.”

“I know it. I don’t know how I know, but I do. Spesialle will be here within three months, Brial, and he will not come alone. He will bring his army.”

Brial opened his mouth and then shut it abruptly. We glowered at each other for a minute and then the breath left him in a loud exhalation. “If you ever do anything like that again, I swear to the gods I will throw you into the first room with a stout door and lock you in,” he said in a slow and carefully controlled voice. “Don’t fight me on this, Tamsen. If you will not behave in such a way as to protect yourself, I will not allow you to endanger yourself further. If I must, I will force you to listen to me.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.”

“Well then you’d better hope that the door consists of something other than wood,” I retorted spitefully. “If it isn’t, I’ll burn my way out.”

“I meant what I said, Tamsen.”

He kissed me, his fingers digging painfully into my arms. When he pulled back, he looked at my shocked face and laughed, not humorously, but with an ugly, ragged laughter. “I told you not to let yourself get involved with me, I told you it would interfere with my ability to protect you! You don’t listen to anyone, Tamsen, and your pride will be your undoing! You are not omnipotent, my lady.”

His tone was so furious I actually winced.

“If you will not attempt to protect yourself, then I will do it for you, You will not like my methods, but you won’t have any choice. I will not stand by and watch you get yourself killed, and by the gods, you will obey me!” He punctuated each word with a shake. “I love you, Tamsen, but at this moment I could break your neck.”

He kissed me again, and then pushed me away. “By the way, don’t go on thinking that you are the only one here who has magic,” he purred. “The Ka’breona element is metal; I can build a door that all your magic will not break.”

"I wouldn't count on that!"

He turned to leave and spotted Morrote standing grimly in the door, his nostrils flaring. For one long, tense second the two Elves stared each other down, then Brial said evenly, “Get out of my way, Ka’antira. I will take your watch tonight and you can remain here to guard her.”

“From whom?” Morrote growled.

“From me, Elflord!” Brial snarled at him. “Most particularly, from me!”

Without a look back, Brial stalked by the stunned Elf and disappeared into the blackness of the outer corridor. I exhaled slowly and sank into one of the chairs by the fire.

Morrote looked after the vanished Brial with an odd expression on his face. Then he snorted a short bark of laughter and stepped into the room.

“I’d really rather be alone, uncle,” I said sadly.

“I don’t think that’ll ever be an option for you, Tamsen,” the Elf said with a twinkle in his eye. “You two were meant for each other.”