Good day everyone, and welcome to day 4 of the A-Z Challenge. Thanks for stopping by and reading my contribution to this fun blogging event. Please feel free to stay as long as you like, then jump on over to see what the other participants are blogging about.
Now on to the letter D. From my YA novel, The Eye of Kedge, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to David Alwyn Heiland, one of three main protagonists. Charlotte you met yesterday, David is today, and Eric follows tomorrow. Anyone interested to see how I envision David? Click on the little guy below to find out.
David was born March 31 and is almost 18 years old, extremely wealthy and lives with his godmother, Lily, in an 1860’s mansion in Havendale, Tennessee. His father died 3 months before David was born. His mother died from complications after David’s birth. His car: a steel-blue 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500.
He is a champion archer, great at shooting paper targets, but his love for living creatures makes it impossible to shoot and kill. He’s secretly in love with his best friend, Charlotte, and his OCD tends to get him in sticky spots. He takes pride in his appearance, is always stylish. He can be short-tempered, stubborn, and quick to judge, but those traits are quickly squelched when thrust into the care of Sir Trogsdill Domnall, a highly respected and lethal knight of the kingdom of Hirth. David may not be fond of Trog’s methods of teaching, but when he comes face to face with two enemies determined to kill him, David realizes Trog may not be such a bad teacher after all.
David woke upon a straw mattress in a moon-lit room cluttered with strange items. Braided vines hung from the rafters, piles of river rocks and unusual stones, talons, teeth and amulets perched on weather-beaten shelves. Sloughed reptilian skins hung like party streamers from the ceiling while red and black ink blot paintings clung to the walls at a tilt. A high-backed rocking chair sat in the corner like a lone, forgotten figure, its seat in bad need of repair. Soft moonlight reflected off the water in the basin, casting ripples of glimmering brilliance upon the planked walls.
A knock on the door broke his concentration. He flung his long legs over the edge and sat up as the gangling, paper-thin stranger entered carrying a wooden bowl and mug, both with knots, branches and leaves protruding from their sides. He set them on a nearby round table, along with a lit candle, its yellow wax dripping like lemon tears down its tapered form.
“I have brought you nourishment.” His voice was soothing, lyrical, like the gurgle of a babbling brook on a Spring day. “I figured you could do with some stickies on your insides. I have drawn you a warm bath. It awaits you at the end of the hall. Fresh clothes are on the chest at the foot of the bed. Take your time. When you are done, come downstairs. We have much to discuss.” The stranger turned to leave.
“Wait.” David stood and swept aside fringes of dark hair clumped together by briars. “Who are you? What are you?”
The stranger flashed a mouth of paper-flat teeth. “My name is Finnegan. Finnegan Aginagin and I am a sestra, an emissary of the mages. You may call me Finn.”