Winter like a crushing hand, like a fist, like a weight on my shoulders, on the house, the hills, the sky. Winter unending. Storms bred from a nest in the hills. You could see them swirling out and screaming down from the northeast and it was so cold the snow …
A dagger is like a distillation of a sword, a sword-seed, and therefore perfect for a wizard. Perhaps the world is not as it seems. The forces that hold things together may be uncertain, not as we imagine them. The fourth dimension, ancient time, might be filled with secrets— secrets …
I’ve been carving staffs since I was eight years old. I’ve spent many happy days hunting for suitable trees. Searching through the hills, rooting through thickets, lying on my back with my cheek against a sapling sighting it’s trunk for straightness. It’s not easy to find the right sapling for …
The sun flares red across the landing strip, casting its long fingers down above mountains as I board my midnight flight leaving Anchorage, Alaska. On the 25th of May I arrived in the same airport in late afternoon. I had slept through much of the flight and woke …