Anthony Rosenthal Leads us "To the Valley of the Dragons"

I would like to introduce Mr. Anthony Rosenthal, a fellow writer and a fellow Christian, who likewise has a passion for writing a well-told fantasy story. And is his story well told? Well, I'll leave that for you to decide, but I certainly think if you are a lover of fantasy fiction you would do well to visit his blog, To the Valley of the Dragons, and read his novel for yourself. Or, if you prefer, visit his facebook account under the same name and follow his progress.

The entire novel? Yes, as a matter of fact; as far as he has written it. Presently he has the first fourteen chapters available for reading. What is Anthony's novel about, you may ask? It is possibly book one in a series (he's unsure if he's going that way yet). A prophecy was given of an event known as the Long Winter; Jandrous' (the One True King) would return amidst a violent persecution of his people, known as The Great Hunting. A terrible war would ensue. Three unlikely souls from far-flung corners of the map find themselves in the midst of the mayhem that erupts. Not yet intrigued? Anthony was gracious enough to permit me to post his prologue for the novel on my blog; so without further ado I give you Anthony Rosenthal's "To the Valley of the Dragons!" Enjoy!

Xandrous, The Betrayer, Lord of Chaos and of War, Prince of Pestilence and Persecution... he of so many names of nightmare, was once the most beautiful and grand of all drayan. Now from the pits of the underworld, flames dancing around him and from him, licking at his black winged body like hot, translucent tongues of red, yellow and orange hues, the lord of all drayan'os, those cursed and exiled, spread his reptilian wings, raised his great horned head, each horn longer than a man's body, and raged against Jandrous. Echoing for thousands of miles, his bellows could be heard in all directions throughout the underworld.

"SON OF THE ONE GOD!!!" of the One God... the One God...One God... he echoed. "You have had your day! Now is MY day! MY TIME! For thousands of years I have been putting MY plans in place. I have whispered my poisons into the ears and hearts of your beloved creatures. I have caused murder and lies... lusts and greed! I have become the father of wars!" He raised his palms, shrugged his shoulders questioningly. "You are the son of the One God?" he chuckled. "I have become many gods! Every second of every hour of every day, more of your beloved creatures accept ME as God... in one of my MANY likenesses." He paused, reflecting on a long ago memory that seemed as distant as yesterday, inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose, and continued. "You think you won when you 'sacrificed' your mortal body in The Valley of Dragons, but in reality it was my own being in the one who ran his sword through your body.... because of ME you were pierced!!! Not to save the many as you would have the world believe. As I speak to you now my armies... mortal, and immortal begin their march to destroy those whom you love. I will then march upon the heavens and claim MY right as the true god! It is written that YOU will face me in battle and destroy me!!! In truth you are weak! Your own mortal death proved that. I will destroy you! I will be victorious! I will finish the siege of the heavens I began so long ago!"

Xandrous turned toward the massive gathering of drayan'os behind him, all as black as himself, devoid of all color... almost as though they sucked in and swallowed all light, and he spread his arms wide as if to take them all in, chuckled, and roared... his echoes seemed to last forever, loud enough to escape the underworld and perhaps reach the ears of the mortal world... perhaps to reach the ears of the heavens as well. "Go my followers," he roared. "Claim your mortal commanders, kings, and generals! Let us finish this war we began so long ago! Now is our time for victory... now is our time to rule! Let it be known to the mortal world that war is coming..." He turned his dark face upward, as though looking into the very eyes of Jandrous, Son of the One God... "War has come," he finished quietly. But even spoken softly, those words seemed to reach out of the underworld, to the living world above, and to the throne room of the One God himself. "War has come."

                                                                      ***       ***

Jandrous knelt, flanked by two white winged drayan, before his father.

"Father," he spoke, and then stood. The two drayan remained kneeling. Raising his head to look upon his father with eyes that appeared full of joy, sadness, and fierceness together, he took a step forward. "How long father, before I return to the world of mortals?" The One God spoke not, simply gazed beyond his son and waited... the silence was deafening, yet no one dared to speak as they waited to hear his words. And then all in the throne room heard the ragings of Xandrous the Betrayer, and listened until they concluded with a soft wisper... "war has come."

"Announce it and let it be done," the father spoke.

"Gaulin," Jandrous spoke to the drayan on his left. "Announce it." And to the drayan on his right... "Maragan, assemble the drayan for war."

Interview & Book Giveaway on Faith, Fiction, Friends

Greetings everyone! If you are interested in learning more about Dragonsong and a little more about me and my inspiration, click here to visit Glynn Young's blog: Faith, Fiction, Friends. Glynn contacted me and wanted to conduct an interview, which will be in two parts. The first part of the interview is posted today, and part two will follow tomorrow as he asks me a series of questions about the characters and realm of Andurun, and about the events and choices that led to writing this fantasy novel.

Oh yes; Glynn is also conducting a book giveaway. Anyone who registers a comment on the interview (either part) os registered for a chance to win a free copy of Dragonsong! Glynn will announce the winner on April 4th, so check in, read and enjoy, and don't forget to comment on it for your chance to win Dragonsong. God bless!

Bestiary Update Number Two

Dread- A Dread is a subterranean terror that lurks in vast caverns trafficked by underground denizens; and there it lays its traps to feed. A Dread is an oblong creature with a rounded form, longer than it is wide. It has mottled gray/white skin and possesses no eyes or ears of any kind. It has nostrils, which are keen, and located at the tip of the monster’s mouth. The trunk of the monster (its main body) is about 10' long and 4' wide with the mouth being 4' wide and 3' deep. There are a number of stocks running from the main body, adhering it to several walls at any given time. It allows its main body to hang free, suspended by its stalks, which anchor to stalagmites and stalactites in the chamber. In this way a traveler might see the Dread and think it was some large beast that was caught in a spider’s web; for the Dread’s stalks appear like giant web strands when spread out. These stalks are about 25' long. They are muscular and hard to damage but do not in any way attack.

All a Dread’s stalks have pores on their skin that secrete silk like a spider’s webbing, which slowly becomes a vast net that connects from stalk to stalk until it covers one small part of the cavern from floor to ceiling. This webbing is so fine that it is almost unnoticeable by casual observation. Anyone that is caught in the webbing is sensed by the Dread and is yanked toward its mouth by muscular action that allows the monster to control the webbing like a line being cast out. When the victim is dragged close enough to the Dread it bites. Usually one bite with its massive mouth is enough to kill its victim. Dread can only move while they are very young and much smaller, at which time they roll along cavern floors until their keen senses of smell alert them to a high traffic area. There they remain, going dormant when food is scarce and causing mayhem when it is abundant. A Dread may remain Dormant for up to one full year before it must become active and feed, using that year to allow fresh prey to wander through its lair for a time to re-establish a feeding source. They are asexual monsters, spitting up a youthful Dread that feeds on the wastes of its parent until it has strength enough to search for a lair of its own. When food is truly scarce, the Dread may sap nutrients straight from the cavern walls it is anchored to in a form of osmosis. While this does not keep the Dread completely placated or totally healthy, it does keep the beast alive, and the Dwarves of the mountains have come to hunt the Dread with this knowledge. They believe, and usually rightly, that a Dread haunts measures of a cavern where the walls and stones are rich with ores that the Dwarves may mine for, but only after dealing with their unintentional and hostile guardian.

           

Ezmir- Ancient, intelligent beings of the deep-realm, Ezmir are dangerous and cunning predators. Resembling bulbous, fleshy spiders with white tiger-like heads, an Ezmir can grow to about the size of a common elephant. Their torso is striped with flashes of bright white and deep black. Thick sprouts of hair cover their thorax and legs. The Ezmir has glowing eyes and a powerful jaw that is filled with fangs. Besides its bite, it can also use its mandibles to inject paralyzing venom that takes only a minute to act within a humanoid sized target. The mandibles are located on the bottom jaw of the beast and retract at will, keeping them from harm until the Ezmir wishes to employ them.

The Ezmir is a solitary and patient hunter. It waits in passages, still as stone until it sees or hears prey coming. It favors secreting a bodily resin from its thorax on cavern floors and leading prey across in a feigned retreat. The resin is like ichor and becomes quite hard quickly when exposed to air. Anything touching it (boots, flesh, weapons, armor, etc.) becomes adhered to it and if removed violently it will cause damage to the object. Strong alcohol will remove it. The Ezmir itself (and all other spiders) are immune to the effects of the resin. An Ezmir can freely travel through all spider webs. Ezmir are asexual and lay eggs in clutches, that reach maturity within 1 year of hatching, at which time they separate and hunt for a lair of their own. During this time the ezmir spawn will travel with their parent, looking akin to white striped tarantulas the size of small dogs. Spawn may number as many as 30, not all of them surviving until maturity, and not fully developing its tiger like head until their seventh year of life. In lean times the parent Ezmir will devour the young to stay alive, and fellow spawn will eat one another if there is nothing else left to devour or hunt. A typical Ezmir will live for about 150 years.

Fane- These large, hybrid beasts run about on all fours. They have massive, muscular upper legs and chest with a reptilian head. The head of the Fane is blunted and flat, with a broad muzzle and long, pricked ears that bend behind it. The flesh is a fine olive green with dull black eyes and protruding shoulder blades. The back of the monster is feline. The scales merge with a fine pelt of white fur near the back legs. The legs and tail resemble a lion’s. Fane’s are nearly blind, relying on their keen senses of smell and hearing to find their way. Fane are commonly found in the deep regions of the realm far from the light of day but have been known to travel the surface, especially around the mountains where passages to the underground are more common. Goblins and even some Dwarven villages have tamed these beasts to serve as fierce and loyal mounts. In all, Fanes measure 10' long and are more than 4' at the front shoulder. They measure a mere 3' at their hips.

                       

Frilled Wyrm- Dwellers of underground lakes and other bodies of water, the Frilled Wyrm is a dangerous predator of the deep places in the realm. The Wyrm is some 50-60' in length with a 3' diameter. It has green/gray flesh that is very smooth and strong and a broad head that looks similar to a great snake of sorts. Its head is wide with a large, flat mouth filled with shark like teeth and two small, pitted eyes above the snout. There are a pair of long frills growing to either side of the trunk just behind the head, spanning more than 5' in length which aid the beast in swimming. The flesh of the Frills is also spiny, catching anything that can snag on them and delivering a weak contact poison that weakens the target temporarily. It has one more majestic looking frill that stands at the height of the head and down the trunk. It stands almost 10' high and can stand on end or shelter against its trunk should the Frilled Wyrm choose to. When it hunts or fights it shakes its top frill, making a sound similar to a rattle. It is a direct combatant, stalking prey for a short time but generally just rearing up and attempting to devour what it finds. Frilled Wyrms mate once every 10-15 years, producing clutches of eggs that become mature in 10 years or so.           

Frost Maiden- The Frost Maidens are a race of moths that dwell in frozen regions and high mountains. They have a wingspan of 6'-8' and they are brilliantly colored in shades of ash, white, black and blue. These hues glow around them and trail after them by nearly a foot everywhere they fly. It is simply resin that drifts from the wings but it is a beautiful sight to behold. This, coupled with the sweet scent of perfume that accompanies them won them their name. They seem to gain nourishment from ice and snow and have little trouble flying even in raging winds. A Frost Maiden is a difficult object to strike in their native environment, even in melee, as their coloration accords them a certain amount of invisibility. Also in melee, their beating wings seem to drain the air from around an opponent, causing them to suffocate unless they draw back. Their hues also harm foes if skin contact is made. Depending on the color of the hue that touches a foe (ash, white, black or blue) determines what extent of harm is caused. It could be numbness that a fire’s warmth can reverse or it could be instant frostbite to the exposed skin, making it dead and useless. A Frost Maiden does not attack unless it needs to defend itself, and then any Frost Maidens within sight of it will lend aid to win their companion free. Dwarves see Frost Maidens as good omens and will not condone harming any.

Andurun Explored 2: Glynn's Full Review of Dragonsong.

For the reader's pleasure I have posted Glynn Young's full review for Dragonsong, which you can also find on his Blog: Faith, Fiction, Friends. I greatly appreciate Glynn's willingness to review my novel, and am more than a little dumbfounded about the fact that people genuinely think it is a great story. It is a strange experience to share something so intimate, so much a part of me, with others. When you tread through Andurun you are seeing so much of me within that I become transparent. Anyhow, I ramble... Thanks much Glynn for being a willing explorer of Andurun! Without further ado, please read on for Glynn's complete review of The Canticles of Andurun: Dragonsong.



I’m too old for this. My reading habits have generally been set for a long time, a nice comfortable rut, and along come an author or two to upset my carefully tended reading cart.

First it was C.S. Lakin, with her The Wolf of Tebron and The Map Across Time, the first two books in her "Gates of Heaven" series. Then along comes Ian Thomas Curtis, with The Canticles of Andurun: Dragonsong.

I keep telling myself I don’t read fantasy.

Except now I do.

Dragonsong, the first in a planned series, tells the story of a teenager, Justias Eventine, who lives in a world controlled by dragons and administered through “clerics,” zealots and magistrates. Clerics and zealots are more like soldiers than religious authorities. One of their jobs is the tithe and branding – collecting the 10 percent annual payment from all people living within the areas controlled by the dragons and applying the dragon “branding” to the young when they come of age.

Justias is determined not to be branded. And then a simple thing – helping an injured man found in the forest – becomes the catalyst that will take a young man, more a boy, and gradually transform him into not only a dragon slayer, but the dragon slayer, the one foretold who would come. For the injured man is a cleric who has rebelled against the order, and the order knows he must be destroyed – along with anyone standing in the way. All of Justias’ fellow villagers are killed; his father taken prisoner; and Justias deemed an outlaw. Pursued, Justias flees to his uncle, and then travels to the south, to the relative safety of the last remnants of the noble houses still not dominated by the dragons. On that journey, Justias comes to understand that he is – and must become – a dragon slayer.

This is the world called Kallanedaros, and what a world it is, full of humans living in thralldom and populated with dragons, shapeshifters, ogres, sea monsters called zuls, goblins, elves, dwarves and any manner of wild creatures (and the spiders; I can’t forget the spiders). The story Curtis tells is a large story, an ambitious story, and he keeps it perfectly under control, leading the reader through a journey and ultimately a quest that are simultaneously magical and real. And it’s so real that the reader joins Justias and his friends as they make their way through intrigue, betrayal, danger and horror, to accomplish the task that’s been set out before them.

The imagination that created this story and this world is amazing, matched only by the detail that’s used to make this world so real. I repeatedly forgot that I was reading a fantasy novel, coming to understand and enjoying this book for the epic story it is. Curtis is one fine storyteller.

It would be easy to say this is “like” other works of fantasy. It is – there are certainly influences from Tolkien, Lewis and Robert Silverberg (and I caught the fleeting reference to Frank Herbert’s Dune) – but it is also a wonderful work in its own right, standing by itself, a remarkable story of a young man who will change his world.

There are other stories to come in this series. The tyrant dragon, Gildaryss, is still waiting and conniving in her mountain lair. And I can’t wait to read what comes next.

Races of Andurun Update

Elves

Variant Races: Elder and Anjuruin (eastern and western)

Lifespan: 100 years (outside of Sylvanri)

Age of maturity: 75 years

Common skin color: pale white with a light hue of tan, bordering on pure albino

Common eye color: light green or blue to deep shades of either color, or deep gray

Common hair color: light blond to golden blond with streaks of red, white or brown

Common Height: 5½-6 feet (men), 5-5½ feet (women)

Common Weight: 150 lbs. (men), 100 lbs. (women)

Language: Medwin (their native tongue)

Common Male Names: Corellan, Ringlarun, Feanor, Kether, Ferrian or Devis

Common Female Names: Arwen, Cerese, Laurana, Mystal, Sylindreal or Kendra

Common House Names: Larathian, Magnamyr, Solenkai, Eldron or Fingalond

 Ghosts of the wild lands far from Humans, Elves are the silent and pale hunters of the realm. They are a race of isolationists, removing themselves from the wants and cares of the realm, deep within beautiful and deadly wilderness where no one else ventures: mostly for fear of their reprisal. Little is known concerning the workings of the Elves, which is exactly how they like it. They are master crafters of fine shirts of mail armor and masterwork swords; a craft they also apply to the working of fine clothes and wood crafting. They appreciate architecture, so long as it is of great houses and halls of finely carved wood, buildings that can breathe and portray a sense of space to them. The armor and weapons they forge are generally crafted from a precious metal named Eldain, which is harder than steel and far lighter. In fact, a chain shirt crafted from that metal grants far more protection while weighing less than common leather armor.

Not always busying themselves with laboring, the Elves enjoy pressing wine and writing songs or narratives to amuse themselves and entertain others. They appreciate learning music in both voice and instrument, and Elvish ballads can be heard wafting through the evening breeze far away from Sylvanri: their native land. Elves are a sober lot when it concerns work and business matters, and jovial when it comes time to make merry, never crossing or blurring the line between the two. Elves do not care for the presence of races other than their own, least of all Dwarves, whom they feel have nothing in common with. Their striking eyes, coupled with their delicate features and tipped ears make them a sight to behold on those that have never seen an Elf before. Despite this physical beauty, Elves can be described as cold, haughty or even plain rude to other races they speak with. To an Elf trust and respect, two things they consider closely linked, is not given: it is earned. To this end, an Elf grants no quarter in regards to carrying your own weight, and tends to expect none. Once befriended, however, an Elf is a close confidant for the whole of their life.

           

Elves have keen sight, far exceeding the visual ability of other races. They generally keep their hair long, looped in a restraint of some kind or simply falling over their backs. Rarely does an Elf, male or female, have hair that is less than shoulder length. Men keep their hair and their dress simple, but tidy and respectable, while women use elaborate weaves, braids, blushes, perfumes and fanciful dress to adorn themselves. They do this partially out of tradition’s sake and partly out of a love of refinement that most Elves carry in their blood. An Elf’s love of life is no more apparent than when revelry begins. They sing, dance and drink wine without care or caution: a total opposite to the face they tend to carry for most of their life. Elvish marriages are arranged between Houses to strengthen ties between them.

Elvish ruler-ship is governed by a conclave of seven nobles. The nobles gather in a meeting hall to discuss matters of law, tradition and trade. Arranged marriage is important within the gathering because one family might have relations by blood or marriage to a number of the conclave, sitting themselves in a position of prestige among other Elvish Houses. There is a ruling king of the race, but his House merely sits as perhaps the most influential of the noble Houses rather than an iron fisted ruler. Loridian Rothelmaer, the successor to Tyril after he was exiled, claimed the throne after the great Houses sued for their proper claim to it. A half century of debate ended with Loridian proving that he was indeed a blood heir to Lorith, the first king of the Elves. Loridian was pressed into war after coming to disaccord with Human lords ruling the great cities of Telaine and Teomora. Acting to defend his people and his borders he ordered the Watchers to repel all invaders that dared to enter Elvish lands, which in turn instigated the War of Severing, or the Dividing War. After more than three years of struggles and strife, Loridian met with the lords of the southern cities in the year 535 of the 2^nd Age to bring to terms an agreement between the races.

Thus, the founding borders of Sylvanri were recognized by the southern lords, and the sovereign rule of the kingdom of Telaine was recognized by the Elves. As part of the treaty Loridian surrendered the northern province of the Sarafin Forest to Human travel and providence. But without Elvish wardens to govern the land itself the forest became a shadowy grove of hidden dangers. It was named by the hunters of Holst township the Forest of Silence, due to the eerie quiet that often lingers through every stand of trees within. The land of Myrodia, at length, surrendered the Forest of Silence to become a free land after its dangers became apparent. After the south kingdom fell into ruin the treaty between their peoples endured, mostly due to the fearsome tales of the Elvish Watchers that kept stern vigil upon their native lands. The kingdom of the Elves came to the Plains of Celestia, where the castle and city of Solace was raised. The standard of the king and his order of Bladeson (Elvish knights), for he was their captain as well as their king, was a trio of blazing white stars set against a background of midnight blue.

           

Compared to Humans: Elves are creatures of cold grace and delicate beauty. They are tall as Humans, but more slender, possessing a sense of poise akin to a feline. They have fine features with a slanted brow and brilliant eyes. Elves favor striking colors in their clothes with flowing garments and bright colored capes and cloaks. While they are abroad they are practical, blending in with the land. They value well crafted jewelry, always having a piece or two of great sentiment in their collection that they often wear when not on travels. Elves and Humans know little of one another, leading to fantastic tales or deep suspicion on the side of Humans. Traveling Elves are often the source of wonder, suspicion or awe. Humans, in Elf eyes, are short lived beings with little to offer and no moral substance to prove of true value, so relations are rarely sought or welcomed.

           

Elven history: The history of the Elves is a long and complex one. Even in ancient times the Elves were a people that loved the freedom of the woodland and open road underfoot. Even before the Elves gathered in numbers and crafted a kingdom deep within the Celestial Plains there walked one of their own whose name was greater than Lorith the Wise, first king of the Elves. Ceriod Raithwillow walked the lands of Andurun, naming the animals and beasts that he encountered and giving an account of them in the many, many chronicles that now rest in the hallowed halls of the Elvish kingdom. His word breathed meaning into many creatures and it was he who first encountered the Dwarves living in the heights of their far off mountains. He cared not for ruling or for power so he declined the throne of the Elves and took his leave to far off lands, leaving the boundaries of Andurun forever. It was Lorith the Wise, young in the times of Ceriod, who was given kingship.

At his greatest he tamed many of the lands in Kallendaros. To Lorith was given the Life Spark, said to have brought to him by Jharras the Magnificent, mightiest of the One God’s Eldritch. Shortly after, Lorith was slain in battle during a civil dispute among the Elves, who were divided by their king’s decision to hide away the Life Spark, something entrusted into their care by the One God. Aramyth, Lorith’s son, declined the throne in the wake of his father’s death and Veres took the throne. Veres was the king’s advisor during Lorith’s life and had a hand in hiding away the Life Spark. His rule lasted a mere 600 years, passing over to Romulus, his son when the noble Houses decreed that no king might sit on the throne of the elves for more than a half millennium. Romulus was a mighty king, and might have made as great a name for himself as Lorith the Wise if not for the events of the Cataclysm, which nearly destroyed the Elvish kingdom. Romulus perished during the Cataclysm, leaving behind a sole heir to the throne: his son Correlan. Correlan was a stout warrior and ruler, charged with the daunting task of leading his people from the ashes of the Cataclysm and building his kingdom over again. Again the Life Spark became an issue among their people when certain noble Houses wanted to liberate it from its prison and use its power to rebuild their former glory. Correlan sided against the nobles and a second civil war erupted not two centuries after the Cataclysm. This war too claimed their king, leaving Correlan dead at the hands of treacherous nobles who conspired against their own monarch.

Correlan’s general, Kether, sought vengeance against the noble houses and slew their champion in a duel. He was elevated to the status of king afterward, seeing as how Correlan had no heir to succeed him. Kether was a kind and passionate ruler, but was better known for his charismatic personality and quick sword hand than his wisdom and kingly demeanor. The seventh king was Kether’s son Tyril, who lived in his father’s shadow. Tyril was strained from the first, having to put into place many things his father left neglected during his time upon the throne, and he never seemed to live down that he was only Kether’s son; son of the legendary general. This, combined with other subtle factors, proved to be Tyril’s undoing and he went mad with the desire to be a greater king than his father had been. He drove his people into a bitter war with the Dwarves: the War of Seven Seasons, which caused many casualties and drove a splinter between the Elves and Dwarves, which remains to this day. This war endured from 411-418 of the Second Age. It is long believed by sages that settling Dwarves scouted a rich vein of rare Bronin beneath Elvish lands and petitioned the Elves for rights to mine for the precious metal. Fearing an incursion, Tyril rejected their petition and rose an army to repel the Dwarven settlements too near his lands. Tyril was deposed and fled in shame, leaving Kallendaros for all time.

Anjuruin Elves: The last of the eastern Elves of Parun, the Anjuruin Elves lost their sacred homeland to the Dragons centuries ago, and were thought to be slain to the last during that bitter feud. Western Elves are fully mortal, and for that they carry a sense of bitter anger, partially for the Dragons that stole their homeland from them, and partially toward the cousins in Kallendaros who did not do what right between blood kin: aid them in their time of need. Despite their lack of immortality, Anjuruin Elves can live for several centuries. This is believed to be because of their long stay from their homeland, which has adversely affected their lifespan. As nomads, western Elves do not have a fundamental society or political structure, but are merely an additional people living among the tribal races of Parun.

Andurun Explored: A Book Review of Dragonsong.

Greetings friends.

I had recently sent Dragonsong to a book reviewer and magazine editor, Glynn Young, for his perusal and professional opinion. His initial review and impression of Dragonsong has arrived, and here is what Glynn had to say:

"I’ve been reading a new fantasy novel called The Canticles of Andurun: Dragonsong by Ian Thomas Curtis. I’m about halfway through it, and I’m completely enthralled with the world Curtis has created. The sheer imagination involved boggles the mind. A big story like this also requires a very tight control of the fictional world that’s been created, or otherwise the story will get away from the author and the reader. Curtis has pulled it off; it’s an amazing novel. The author blogs at What’s in a Name."

If you want to visit Glynn for the rest of his article, as well as other book reviews and more, you can find him at Faith, Fiction, Friends; his blog dedicated to literary work. I'm glad to know that Dragonsong is being read and enjoyed. As any more book reviews arrive I'll keep you posted!