Charles Yallowitz is a prolific and talented writer who has published 42 titles in multiple genres. His latest is a book for the rest of us. He lays out inside tips on the writing craft, which are useful to all writers regardless of genre choice. For a limited time, the e-book can be had for 99¢. Here’s the cover.
Here’s the link.
Curious about craftwork? Tempted to try writing fantasy? Then grab a copy of Do I Need to Use a Dragon?as a 99 cents eBook!
Here’s Charles’ bio.
About Charles Yallowitz
Charles E. Yallowitz was born, raised, and educated in New York. Then he spent a few years in Florida, realized his fear of alligators, and moved back to the Empire State. When he isn’t working hard on his epic fantasy stories, Charles can be found cooking or going on whatever adventure his son has planned for the day. ‘Legends of Windemere’ is his first series, but it certainly won’t be his last.
I am so glad to be able to have Charles E. Yallowitz here on Fiction Favorites. Charles and I have been blogging friends for as long as I have been blogging. He is a master at the art of weaving a fantasy tale. He is here to introduce his latest book. So Charles the blog is yours.
Thanks, John.
On the eve of Clyde’s dream becoming reality, his life will be torn asunder.
Cover Art by Alison Hunt
As his dream of peace becomes a reality, Clyde faces his darkest challenge.
With the Dawn Fangs’ existence exposed, the time for negotiations has begun. Mortal rulers and the council of Nytefall gather to discuss terms, but chaos is already stirring. It does not take long for Clyde’s dream to become a nightmare as villages are slaughtered by a Dawn Fang who is rumored to be the newly crowned Vampire King. Bodies of friends and enemies pile up as this mysterious imposter reveals why mortals should fear Clyde. Will Clyde’s final adventure see his dream of peace fail before it is realized?
The truth is more horrifying than the Dawn Fangs ever imagined.
*****
Curiosity piqued? Check out this teaser!
The Truth?
Coming to the windmill, Magrus coats his body in a protective shell and carefully climbs to the top of the broken structure. Slowly turning in a circle, he scans the area to get a full sense of the remaining magic. He ignores the auras of the guards, who are sifting through the wreckage to find more bodies. Those who have been located have already been moved to the outskirts where they are being prepared for transport. Peering down the narrow road, he can see an oxen-driven cart is getting closer and sighs at how it will not be enough to collect all of the dead. Magrus considers warning the lieutenant, but he fears it will lead to a long conversation and waste more of his precious time. He turns to where the man is helping to prop up a wall, which has crushed a family of four. Shaking his head, the Zarian climbs down from his perch and uses his staff to help him navigate his way out of town. Nothing catches his interest, but he stops momentarily to send a few more lost souls to the afterlife.
“Let us see what really happened,” Magrus whispers as he reaches the woods.
Turning back to the village, the man plunges his staff into the earth and grips it tightly to prevent himself from falling over. His eyes develop a rainbow shimmer over the gold as he wavers on his feet. Fighting through the looming fatigue, the priest lets his magical vision change from what is in front of him to revealing phantoms of the past. Transparent buildings rise back into place and ghostly figures go about their lives even though he can still sense a little of what is truly there. Magrus scowls at the sight of a black-haired figure landing a few feet away, the puff of dirt revealing an illusion covering the small crater. Within seconds of appearing, the man rushes at the town and begins destroying everything in sight. Using only his fists and feet, he breaks houses and shatters people. The attacker’s speed is almost too much for the Zarian to follow, so he focuses on examining the phantasmal carnage for clues. He spots bite marks on several necks and sees the chickens were devoured in the blink of an eye. Torches and candles are knocked over to start the fires, which explode into an inferno connected to the illusionary plume of smoke. Magrus is not sure what caused the sudden blast since the attacker had been tearing the local blacksmith in half at the time. Deciding he has seen enough, the man freezes the vision before falling to his knees from the exertion. He is able to hold the image for another second before it disappears, but it still gives him a clear view of the rampaging figure.
“This cannot be shared,” Magrus says as he takes out a piece of paper. He mutters a spell to transfer the image of a black-haired man with a corn-shaped necklace from his brain to the parchment. “It would appear that Clyde of Nytefall is not as big a fan of peace as one would believe. Yet, I still see mysteries here. The fires grew without his influence and I see no reason why he would want this place discovered. I have many questions, Lady Zaria, so I cannot purify the Vampire King until I have answers. There has never been a man or monster who has escaped my thorough investigations. This one will be no different. I swear on my goddess’s crimson hair that Clyde and the Dawn Fangs will be judged. Then, if necessary, they will be punished.”
Interested in more Windemere? Then don’t forget to check out Charles E. Yallowitz’s first series: Legends of Windemere
Cover Art by Jason Pedersen
About the Author:
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
As the Vampire Civil War heats up, mysterious murders are being committed against members of every holy order. All signs point to the culprits being vampires, which has resulted in the creation of a unified paladin army. To protect his people, Clyde must find the killers before the holy warriors unleash their purifying crusade. It is a battle against frustrating obstacles as the war inches closer to mortal civilization and ambitious new allies join Nytefall.
One slip is all that is needed for the secret of the Dawn Fangs to be revealed.
Curiosity piqued? Check out this teaser!
The urge to move faster nearly overtakes Lost’s common sense, but she reminds herself that adults are supposed to be patient. As if her mind is trying to undermine her actions, she is on the verge of whistling the first tune that slips into her thoughts. Sucking in her lips, the Dawn Fang pierces them with her fangs to stop them from causing trouble. The pain makes her eyes water and she squishes mud in her hands to hold back a scream. Reaching out with her telepathy, she tries to locate her targets while she lets her unfocused thoughts run their course. A distant prayer to Ram the War God causes her to change her direction and she takes a deep breath to regain her composure. With the paladins so far away, Lost moves a little faster, but stops short of giving in to her silly, impatient urges. Seeing the edge of the tall grass, she drops again and uses her elbows to pull herself along like she remembers seeing Titus do on several missions. As she comes out of her cover, the bright sun blinds her, so she is unable to stop herself from banging into something metal, which falls onto her back.
“Get off of me!” Lost shouts before telekinetically hurling the object into the river. She scrambles to her feet and freezes at the sight of six paladins standing in her path. “Such shiny and pretty armors, you have here. I really like the guy with the big helmet. Is that an ostrich feather? I keep meaning to ride one of those again. So, nice day for a walk. This is bunny who is totally unable to fly. That’s why he’s on my head. Your friend seems okay, so there’s absolutely no reason for us to spend any more time together. Bye!”
“You must be Lost,” Lord Adam says through his great helm. He takes a step forward and holds out a diamond fused to a bronze chain. “We are well aware of you and your abilities, monster. That is why I travel with this. None of your mind tricks will work on those who stand in my presence. Even your keen senses are tricked by the spells designed specifically to thwart your actions. Be honored that we went to so much trouble to design items with you in mind. No other Dawn Fang has earned so much individual attention.”
“That’s kind of creepy,” she replies as she steps back. Seeing weapons getting drawn, she stops retreating and playfully slaps at the mud with her bare feet. “Needed to wash some gunk out from between my toesies. Well, this is awkward. You brought me such a pretty present and I don’t have anything for you. Bunny says that I need to work on my manners. There’s really no need for violence. Dawn Fangs are mostly good. Just like mortals, we have some bad ones, but we’re all individuals like all of you. I mean, we all eat soup the same way, right? I really hope you all use spoons for that comparison to work.”
“Abominations such as you-” the paladin begins to announce.
“Look at the naked heretic!” she shouts while pointing into the distance.
All of the holy warriors, except for Lord Adam, turn to see what Lost is gesturing at, so she flings mud at their leader’s helmet grating. The man coughs and hacks as the Dawn Fang sprints back to the river and launches herself to the other side. A quake meets her as she lands and she nearly topples onto her side, but manages to stumble along. Glancing over her shoulder, she does not see any of the paladins in pursuit and considers slowing down to get her bearings. Lost’s eyes go wide when she sees the powerful steeds rise into the air, arch over the river, and land in a perfect line that immediately charges ahead. The open plains allow the warriors to move at full speed, which is only slightly slower than the sprinting Dawn Fang. They hurl spells and glowing weapons, which return to their hands, but the attacks never hit their mark. Those that come close are deflected by a telekinetic shield, which repeatedly shatters upon impact thanks to Lord Adam’s diamond weakening her even from a distance. With the relic defending the paladins’ minds and muffling their hoofbeats, she has to repeatedly look over her shoulder to make sure none of them have disappeared. To her relief, they never break formation and she gets a sense of their attack pattern, which never falters.
Interested in more Windemere? Then don’t forget to check out Charles E. Yallowitz’s first series: Legends of Windemere
Cover Art by Jason Pedersen
About the Author:
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
For the first time in over a century, Clyde will know what it means to feel powerless and weak.
Headless bodies appearing across Windemere is only the beginning as Clyde faces the terrifying vampire hunter, Alastyre. Able to match the Dawn Fang leader in power and ferocity, this new menace shows no signs of weakness or mercy. With both friends and enemies getting dragged into the battle, Clyde will have to find a way to become stronger. For that, he will have to accept an ancient challenge and pray that those he cares about and trusts can hold Alastyre at bay.
Which monster of Windemere will claim the top of the food chain?
Want to hear more? Enjoy this Teaser!
Alastyre disappears for a moment before reappearing in front of Clyde and grinning at how the Dawn Fang does not react. “I have waited many years for this day. You probably don’t remember me since it has been so long. The temptation to tell Mab the truth when she was my captive was so strong that I knew I needed more time to mature. I should only feel happy and excited when we are about to clash. By the way, your enemies put up an entertaining fight. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes, but I enjoyed it. My hope is that your reputation is true and I will get to use my full power for once. The thought of ripping your head off and adding it to my collection is one of the few dreams that gives my life meaning. Is this where we’re going to fight? I see that there is a lot of sand and giant boulders scattered about. Do you use this courtyard as a large rock garden in order to relax? You are a more amusing monster than I expected.”
“I don’t like you,” Mab growls before she is grabbed by the face.
“A drug-addicted worm should watch-”
“Put . . . my . . . partner . . . down,” Clyde growls from behind the hunter. The illusionary vampire fades away as the real one materializes, his gauntlet sword already pressed against the man’s meaty neck. “You say we’ve met before and you’ve been training to fight me. Looks more like you’ve altered yourself to become a freak. The smell of your blood reeks of corruptive magic and demon influence. There’s a hint of Dawn Fang and dragon in there too. You’re nothing more than a glorified golem. A bunch of parts and auras cobbled together to turn a weak mortal into a monster. I’m not impressed, Alan Stryker. Still, trying to strike fear into the rotting hearts of my kind? At least your name isn’t as stupid as it was before.”
“Wait, do you mean that guy who attacked you outside of Lord Shallis’s castle?” Titus asks with a chuckle. He grunts when his sister is thrown into him, the force sending the siblings crashing against the patio’s railing. “I told you that keeping him alive was a mistake, but I didn’t think it would turn into this. You must be angry that nobody believed your story about vampires that are immune to the sun. Is that what this is about?”
With a casual flick of his finger, Alastyre sends Clyde’s sword and arm flying across the courtyard. “No, because it was another hunter who survived and told that tale. Your leader was so distracted with Mab biting him that he failed to notice a second mortal that he failed to kill. I focused on recovery and getting stronger because I refused to follow such a ridiculous plan. The fewer people who knew about the Dawn Fangs, the better my chances were at being the one to succeed. Please know that I only want to destroy your leadership. Originally, I wished to wipe all of you out of existence, but that could prove to be impossible. You monsters are more talented at hiding than anything else I have hunted, so I could never be sure of your extinction. The next best thing is to take over Nyetfall and use it as a jail for your kind. All Dawn Fangs will be contained on this island once they no longer have their precious rulers. Don’t you agree that this is much better than extermination, Clyde?”
“I have no opinion because it’s never going to happen.”
“Do you accept my challenge?”
“You never officially made one.”
“I demand that you fight me to the death.”
“Thank you for being straightforward and not making me hunt you down.”
“We fight in an hour then.”
“Why not now?”
Alastyre points while mentioning, “You are still missing an arm. I want to face you at full strength.”
“Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance,” the Dawn Fang says as he continues healing the injury.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
In the shadows of Windemere, fangs are sprouting from the least likely of maws.
News is spreading that wild beasts with vampiric natures have been attacking mortals and carrying off random victims. With the Dawn Fangs still a secret from mortal society, Clyde fears that these strange creatures will reveal his peoples’ existence before they are ready. Old enemies and trusted friends begin to disappear as the investigation goes deeper into a business that has been lurking in the shadows of Windemere for decades. Those who return are beholden to a new master whose cunning is matched only by her primal desires. As his allies disappear, Clyde is left with the one he trusts the most in all of the world to help him solve this mystery. Too bad Mab has her own secret that can cause more damage to Nytefall than any vampiric beast.
Is this how the Dawn Fangs will be revealed to Windemere?
Still need more to wet your appetite? Then enjoy this excerpt:
Titus shrugs the girl off his shoulders and grips his blades, but refuses to draw them to avoid causing a scene. The warriors around him are on edge from overhearing Lost’s words and seeing his reaction, but they follow his example and keep their weapons sheathed. The Vengeance Hounds know that it is only a matter of time before the mortals with weaker wills lose control and drive the others into panic. They can hear the rumors of a deadly beast stalking the hunting party ripple through the crowd, each telling more gruesome and bone-chilling than the previous version. Several warriors ignore the warnings of their companions and draw their weapons, but keep them out of sight. Two of the casters begin to chant, which is revealed by the sparkle of magic on their lips. One by one, the lines of warriors stop walking and assume various defensive formations. Frustrated by the collapse of her army, the priestess turns around and tries to assure everyone that they are safe. Standing in the middle of the blossoming chaos, the Vengeance Hounds can only watch as the woman loses her temper and shouts at the archers who were supposed to maintain control.
The warriors go silent when a booming roar erupts from above and a large shadow passes over the area. With a gurgling scream, the priestess collapses in a heap and stares unblinking at the sky. The archers move away from the drooling woman, whose breathing has stopped as if she has been instantly turned off. Landing in front of the hunting party, a crimson-scaled Verenstone Dragon unfurls its muscular tails with one to each side and the other arching over its reptilian head. The thick ridge of black hair going down its back rustles and shivers in the breeze, which heats up as the monster bellows once more. Curled against its side are wings composed entirely of blue flame that licks at the trampled grass, but they are not hot enough to ignite the emerald blades. Leaning forward, the terrifying predator sniffs at the braindead priestess and chuckles before swallowing the body whole. In the brief moment that its mouth is open wide, the Vengeance Hounds notice that two of its teeth are changing as if they are stretching out of the gums. The plaque-covered ivory is curved in a way that makes it clear that they are fangs and the beast is in desperate need of a fresh meal. Its eyes scan the mortals and stop on the three Dawn Fangs for a moment, but it is enough to tell them that the cunning creature recognizes their true nature.
“A vampiric dragon,” Titus mutters under his breath.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
As Dawn Fang vampires are found dead across Windemere, their infamous leader will remember what it is to be afraid.
With the truce between Nyte and Nytefall nearing its end, an old enemy has emerged to rekindle the vampires’ most ancient feud. A Duragian priest is on the move and he is wielding a weapon that can depower and kill Dawn Fangs. This follower of the Sun God has claimed enough victims that Lord Tempest wants the weapon for himself and Clyde is beginning to worry that his fledgling kingdom is in danger of extinction. When it becomes clear that the mysterious relic and Clyde’s transformation into the first Dawn Fang are connected, he will be forced to face a past that he can barely remember.
What can Clyde do to defend his people, his life, and the child he does not know is on the way from the terrifying Fist of Durag?
Excerpt: Stirring
The thick darkness that greets Clyde’s eyes is suffocating and disturbingly familiar. A disconcerting numbness flows along his skin and plunges all of his senses into a mental fog. He groans as he sits up and touches the warm ground beneath him, his fingers finding it rough and jagged. The memory of being in Gregorio’s lair strikes his mind like a perfectly aimed arrow and he tries to stand up. A dull ache courses through his legs and forces him to remain on the floor, which trembles for a brief moment. Picking up a stone, he can feel the faint carving of half a sun with a grinning face. With a yawn, the vampire throws the rock away and waits for it to land, but the sound of it bouncing takes several minutes to reach his ears. Clyde scowls when the noise ends with a strange thud that reminds him of a fist punching flesh. The distant gurgling of a stream draws his attention to the right and he squints at a strange form that is gradually taking shape in the gloom. Finding the energy to rise, he gets to his feet and wipes the dirt from his body, which he learns is unclothed. The Dawn Fang’s senses steadily return to their full strength and he realizes that his vision has been blocked by his own hair. Luscious and tangled tresses cascade from his head to cover everything from his scalp to his elbows. Wrapping all of the strands around his left hand, he uses his right to slice them off and is about to use his fingers like scissors when his body locks.
The ruins of the Duragian temple are laid out before Clyde, their details making it clear that they are the genuine articles. Bodies of civilians and priests are strewn about the area, all of them having been drained of blood. A white-bricked wall has been marked with scratches that the vampire knows are a foolish attempt to keep track of time, which he abandoned after he had run out of prey. Far in the distance, he can see the tower where he was once held prisoner, its top seven floors having snapped off as it sunk. Light pulses from the enormous structure to drive the cavern’s darkness into the corners. Smaller shrines help to illuminate the streets, which are littered with debris. The smell of rotting meat is thick in the air, the stench emanating from the abandoned food and corpses. Not far away, the vampire sees a cleared area with a burn mark in its center. It takes him a moment to recognize the battered ruins of the execution square, its right side having slumped into a sinkhole.
A pang of doubt and anxiety races through Clyde’s mind as he recalls getting struck by the fake Fists of Durag. He begins to walk through the ruins in search of signs that he is being tricked, but it becomes clear that he is not trapped within an illusion. All attempts to see through the spell are met with failure, which feeds a primal rage in the pit of his soul. Coming to a broken fountain, he kneels and scoops up a handful of stagnant water to drink. The foul liquid makes his tongue burn and his stomach twists to the point where he has to vomit in order to avoid passing out. Focused on his own body, Clyde releases his severed hair when he realizes that his heart is no longer beating. Jamming a finger between his ribs, he touches the organ to find it wrinkled and still. With a growl, he swings his fist at the nearest building only to find that he cannot knock the whole structure over. The vampire stares at the hole in the wall and flexes his fingers, which make the gestures for a claw-growing spell. He curses loudly when he feels his nails lengthen and harden into natural blades.
“What in all of Windemere is going on?” Clyde asks.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
“It is a photo showing all of Charles Yallowitz’s War of Nytefall Series which are on sale for $0.99 each for the month of October.”
“Oh thank goodness. Here I thought it was a bag of some kind of new dog food.”
“Me too, Lucy. Not sure I could handle that.”
“These are Fantasy and Vampire stories, right Twiggy?”
“Not sure Lucy. I think so but I have a hard time holding books.”
“If I didn’t know better I would say you just told a joke.”
“Yeah, I think I did. Where can people who can hold a reader get War of Nytefall?”
“You just gave the link in your question.”
“I did? What’s a link?”
“Please excuse Twiggy folks. She doesn’t get out much.”
“Yeah. I wish Mom would let me out right now.”
“I would rush to get these books at $.99. They are also available for 99 Pence in the UK and discounts at other sites as well. As for me I’ve worked hard enough as a spokesperson. Nap time.
“Currency exchange makes my head hurt, Lucy. Heres the US link again.”
As the Vampire Civil War of Windemere rages on in the shadows, a mysterious girl appears to deliver mayhem to both sides.
Rumors of old-world vampires disappearing and mortals being attacked by an army of humanoid monsters have reached Clyde’s ears. Still learning how to rule the city of Nytefall as a strong, but fair leader instead of a vicious warlord, the former thief assumes he has rogue agents on his hands. Instead, his people stumble upon Lost, a teenage Dawn Fang looking for her father and aided by a decrepit bunny that might be an animated corpse. Bounding from one side of the Vampire Civil War to another, this carefree girl will turn out to be more trouble than she looks as all of the demons of her past emerge to get what they have been promised. Yet, her chaotic actions are nothing compared to the secret of her creation, which will change the very fabric of the Dawn Fangs’ world.
It is time for the womb-born to be revealed.
Book Excerpt: Lair of the Thief
The four-story building looks no different than those around it, except for the window shutters being on the inside. A winged hound statue sits on the flat roof and leans over the eave, its eyes locked with a matching piece across the street. Clyde stares up at the red-eyed decoration while blindly waving to those who excitedly greet him. Licking his lips, he kneels in front of the door and picks the lock in a few seconds. He still pushes it open as carefully as possible in case there is a chain, which he snaps with a simple flick of his finger. The vampire slips inside and nearly bumps into a pile of bags that are leaking silver coins. Closing the door behind him, Clyde is amazed at all of the treasure that is left in the hallway and rooms. A bedroom to his right is filled with jeweled armor that nobody would wear for battle, the metal visibly fatigued from having so many gems fused to its surface. Moving without a sound, he takes in the sight of jewelry hanging from hooks and goblets meticulously stacked to the ceiling. He stops at the entrance to what used to be a bathroom and has now been turned into a storage place for a ten-foot tall fountain that once stood in a Gaian courtyard. Heading for the second floor, Clyde can see that the nearby kitchen has been left untouched by the widespread hording as well as uncleaned. A sniff of the air tells him that the mess is recent and is a combination of chocolate and hot sauce. Unnerved by the unfamiliar pairing, he moves with more caution and keeps his right fist ready to strike.
Reaching the third floor, Clyde hears the tinkling of coins falling and makes his way to the end of the hallway. He is about to enter the room when it finally dawns on him that he probably should have knocked before entering the house. The former thief scratches his head and turns towards the stairs only to look back at the door. With a shrug, Clyde creates an illusion of a loud bang at the front door and leans against the wall. It is only when he glances at the floor that he spots discarded clothes on the rug, including a hydra-skin jacket. Before he can hide or move for the stairs, the door opens and Mab walks out. Muttering curses, the brown-haired Dawn Fang is completely naked and fails to notice her old partner until she is halfway through with putting on her underwear. Neither of the vampires are sure of how much time has passed as they stare at each other in horror and discomfort. Clyde regains his senses and opens his mouth to talk, but he is immediately blinded by a clawed swipe to the face. He slumps to the floor as the burglar gathers her clothes and rushes back into the room, the door slamming hard enough to knock over several teetering piles of treasure throughout the house.
“What the hell, Mab!?”
“Don’t barge into my house!”
“First of all, I broke in. Second of all, are you bathing in coins?”
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
As Windemere moves forward, a broken spirit falls into the shadows.
Two years have passed since Luke Callindor was lost during the champions’ battle against Baron Kernaghan. Many mourn the loss, but none have been hurt more than the fiancée he left behind, Kira Grasdon. Plagued by grief and determined to prove he is alive, she has sacrificed her business, her reputation, and her hope. Surviving on the streets of Gaia, she has become an emotional husk of her former self. It is only by chance that Kira crosses paths with an old friend and learns of a path, which will either end her suffering or revive her shattered soul. As the rumors state, hundreds of adventurers have flocked to Lacarsis and none have returned.
Will Kira meet her death in the City of Evil or will she thrive among the monsters?
*****
Book Excerpt: The Farm
The blast of warm air hits and swirls around the area to make all those in metal armor feel like they are about to faint. As the wind billows out, it carries the fog away to reveal broken fences and an abandoned farmhouse. The porch is partially collapsed with a swing sitting in the mud, its chains still connected to the fallen roof. The front door is closed, but a large hole is in the middle as if something tried to punch its way inside. Rusty pots and tools are scattered about the ground, some of them having been plunged into the ground. Not far away is a large barn, which shows no sign of damage beyond peeling paint and cobwebs dangling from the eaves. A crooked weathervane sits above the hay loft, the bat-shaped object spinning wildly even though the wind has died. Wilted crops stand in the fields among those that have already rotted into mush. Piles of hay dot the landscape, each one having turned black and become surrounded by swarms of thumb-sized flies. When the last of the fog clears, the entire area is bathed in a sickly orange light that causes the adventurers’ skin to crawl.
An animal call erupts from a nearby pasture, the grass a light brown and showing signs of being repeatedly trampled. In response, the sounds of chickens drift from the farmhouse and they are soon joined by other familiar noises. The ear-wrenching symphony continues to grow as the adventurers spread out across the road and into the fields. Most are focused on the farmhouse door, so they are caught off-guard when the attack begins. Zombified pigs, horses, goats, and sheep burst out of the barn to charge the nearest warriors. With acidic foam flying from their mouths, the undead livestock crash into the armored figures and rip into whatever flesh they can reach. The goats and pigs cause the most damage, their teeth breaking through metal and bone while the horses do more harm with their hooves. Flapping wings from the farmhouse are a slight warning before a flock of chickens and ducks explode from the windows. Lacking teeth, they have a harder time killing their prey, who swing wildly and blindly cast spells that miss half of the time. Chaos is consuming the crowd when the first animal call erupts from the right and four knights are sent hurtling through the air. Flesh dangling from its horns and blood splattered across its rotting face, the zombified bull barrels into the adventurers. The grunting beast tramples everything in its path as it crashes into one of the fields and sends a broken cart rolling away. Turning around, the animal ignores the arrows that stick into its hindquarters and charges back into the crowd.
While the others try to retreat, Kira swings her sickle at the bull’s side and gets the weapon stuck between the exposed ribs. She holds on while she is dragged and uses the blunt end to swat chickens out of the air. As she passes a stallion, she swings her kusari-gama to get the chain wrapped around its hind legs. With the horse galloping away from the bull, Kira plants her feet and pulls hard on her weapon. Her strength combined with that of the zombified steed allows her to shatter the larger animal’s ribs. Spinning around, she whips the sickle into the side of the stallion’s head and uncoils the chain as it crashes to the ground. Without turning back, the adventurer dives to the side and narrowly avoids getting gored by the bull. The moment she hits the ground, she pounces to grab the jagged hole in its body and pulls herself close enough to punch inside with the blunt end of her weapon. Kira continues striking the rotting heart until the confused animal rears back and exposes its stomach for a pair of spearmen to impale it. They are unable to support its weight and are promptly crushed while the young woman flips up to slam her sickle into the base of its skull. Hanging onto the bucking bull, she violently twists the blade until the zombie finally falls over and rapid decays. The others are about to cheer when the call of another bull bursts from the pasture.
“They just keep coming,” Kira mutters as she watches more animals pour out of the buildings.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
In celebration of the launch of War of Nytefall, I invited Charles to take over the Top Ten duties for today. Also, it is Charles’ birthday so today is very special. Without delay, I give you Charles E. Yallowitz.
A big thanks to John, especially for letting me do one of his famous ‘Top 10’ lists in order to promote my new book. Since my latest fantasy adventure series, War of Nytefall: Loyalty, revolves around vampires, we’re going to go over some warnings to keep in mind. (For fun, check out the opposing list on My Train of Thoughts On . . .)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not try to invite them to brunch. If you do, at best they’ll be a Dawn Fang and say they aren’t hungry. At worst, you will end up eating across from a pile of ashes and be asked to leave since it’s a non-smoking establishment. (You didn’t even get your third mimosa!)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not show off your crucifix collection. If you do, at best they’ll run away, and the friendship is over. At worst, they’ll take offense at the pushing of a stereotype and break the cross handed down through the generations over your head. (The time he invited you to a Passover Seder might have been a clue that this wouldn’t work.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not repeatedly ask them if they hang out at high schools. If you do, at best you’ll end up sitting through a long rant about how Joss Whedon and Stephanie Meyers should be sued for defamation of character. At worst, you’ll be stripped naked and put in the nearest school gym locker to see how you like being called a pervert. (What is it with humans and having vampires go after jailbait?)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not challenge them to a boxing match. If you do, at best you will be knocked out with one punch and wake up in the hospital. At worst, your head will sail through the window, across the street, and land in the punch bowl of the latest meeting of the ‘Sufferers of Decapitation Nightmares’. (Tiny the WWF Champ never could hold back.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not eat food with tons of garlic. If you do, at best your friend will be a Dawn Fang and politely flick a mint into your mouth. At worst, the vampire goes into anaphylactic shock and ends up in the hospital. (No, doctor, I’m sure this person has a pulse, and it’s the machine that’s wrong.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not take them to the House of Mirrors. If you do, at best they’ll not see their reflection and play pranks on the other people. At worst, they will see their reflection and be violently embarrassed by a large scrap of jogger stuck in their fangs. (It’s hard enough to floss without sword-like teeth stabbing you in the hand.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not talk to them with a corny Dracula accent. If you do, at best they’ll tell you to stop being an idiot. At worst, you’ll learn that Dracula was their uncle and you really shouldn’t make fun of his speech impediment. (Not his fault his fangs were four times larger than that of your average vampire. In fact, most women would say . . . Okay, moving on.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not ask to try what they’re drinking. If you do, at best you’ll get sick and learn your lesson. At worst, you’ll find that you enjoy the taste and go on a feeding frenzy as the ghoulish servant of your new master. (That’s for eating all that garlic. Even a human would have found that stench nauseating.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not tell everyone around that your friend is a blood-drinking creature. If you do, at best people won’t believe you and call the men in white suits. At worst, you’ll find out how many vampire hunters are in the area and be the only one left to explain all the bodies to the cops. (There’s a reason we don’t announce ourselves, Billy!)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not insist on watching ‘Blade’ every time you hang out. If you do, at best they’ll say yes. At worst . . . You know what? That’s going to be fine. Even vampires will admit to loving that movie. Just tone down the garlic popcorn this time. (Seriously, do you eat that much to counter a chronic health condition?)
Book Blurb
In the wake of the Great Cataclysm, a new predator will emerge within Windemere’s shadow.
For fifty years, Clyde has remained buried while the rest of the vampires have been battling against their enemies. Only Mab believes that her former partner survived his execution and is determined to bring him back to the city of Nyte. Retrieving the vampiric thief is only the beginning as he comes out of the ground stronger, faster, and demonstrating powers that their kind have never witnessed throughout their ancient history. Thrown into the war, Clyde must be careful to hide his true nature while fighting alongside his old friends. Too bad he is having so much fun that keeping his secret might be furthest from his mind.
Will anyone be ready for the rise of the Dawn Fangs?
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.