Excerpts from Healing

This part I sweated over. It took me three days to write it, due to writer's block and a huge case of perfectionism.

"For as long as anyone could remember, all of the citadels in the south of Sarea always had a council. Tales told of the first councils, when the earth was very young and Dun Zarum had been frail and new. In those days the dangers were many, and dragons and marauding armies were the real rulers of Sarea. A meeting consisting of the prominent figures in the citadel was organized during those perilous years. Ever since then the practice was continued until it became a timeless tradition, part of the roots of Dun Zarum.

A council was a serious matter, only called together in times of trouble. Always the king was present, as well as his chief lords, high priest, chief healer, and all the knights.

Ehra could very well understand why the council had been called. The Stillbreath. It couldn't go on; otherwise, Dun Zarum would be no more. Already the once-mighty citadel had been transformed into a place of dying. Any longer and it would be too much for the city--it would become like the ones that had gone before and had been great int heir time, and then had been conquered. Perhaps soon Dun Zarum would become a memory."

Now one of my favorite parts. I love descriptions. And I love making vegetation up. =) Notice night flowers (also called moon flowers) and Bloodpetal flowers (a type of deadly poison).

"Twigs crunched underneath Ehra's feet as she started down the path towards the Blood Altar. Trodden only a couple times a year, the small trail was overgrown with grasses and was hard to follow at night. Pale, shimmering patches of night flowers, their delicate, translucent petals turned toward the sky, were scattered in the clearings. Because she had not taken a torch before she set off, the priestess's only light was the cold moon.

The path ended, and Ehra entered a large clearing. There, tall and grim and shadowy in the night, silently rose the Blood Altar. Fashioned in the olden days when the world was young, the stone, table-like structure still bore the carvings of black magic on its sides. The altar was so old that no one knew for sure who had made it, but all the surrounding cities used it as a center for their most important ceremonies. Deadly Bloodpetal flowers had sprung up all around it, and a bone pathway led to the mounting stairs.

Leaves and small branches had been blown onto the face of the Altar, and Ehra mounted the steps to brush them off. Her fingers uncovered the burgundy stains of blood on the stone, remains of the centuries of human sacrifice. As she climbed on to kick away a particularly large branch, a shadow caught her eye."

Please do not copy my book. It is mine and mine alone, and I will not be happy if you violate my rights.