Heavenly Father, my heart swells with awe at the beauty of what You have created, and beats with gratitude that You could love a child like me. Help my life bring You glory. Amen.
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Grateful
A Sword of Lyric Party
Super-fan Nina Ruth hosted a party to celebrate the release of The Deliverer.
Swords and cloaks were the dress code.
The menu included ground caradoc sauteed with wild Braide Wood vegetables; lehkan cream & fermented orberry; Rendor wild greens; Clavo; and Hazor Delight for dessert.
The table games were lit by a light trivet. Thanks to Nina Ruth, Jen, and Kristi for sharing their photos of a fun evening through the portal.
If you want to host a fun evening, download the free Sword of Lyric Party Planner at my website.
Rebuilding
Today I turned to Nehemiah for encouragement. So much of his struggle
resonates with me. Especially chapter 4, verse 10. “The strength of the
laborers is giving out, and there is so much rubble that we cannot rebuild
the wall.”
Do you ever feel like there’s just too much rubble in the way?
Nehemiah started out strong. He rebuilt the wall to half its height, “for
the people worked with all their heart.”
But Sanballat and his pals continued to jeer, to mock, and to plot against
Nehemiah and the other people in Jerusalem, making the job that much more
difficult.
I hear Sanballat’s echoes almost every day. “What are those feeble Jews
doing? . . . Will they finish in a day? Can they bring the stones back to
life from those heaps of rubble–burned as they are?”
Nehemiah spoke a response to the weary builders. “Don’t be afraid of them.
Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers,
your sons and your daughters, your wives and your homes.”
A friend once reminded me that if a theme in one of my books touches
someone’s heart and encourages them, my work has value. She helped me
realize that in my writing work I am “fighting for my brothers, sons,
daughters…” I want to offer stories that draw eyes to God. Just as
Nehemiah issued a call to courage by saying “remember the Lord,” I want my
stories to reflect and remember the Lord – His love, His grace, His
strength.
Nehemiah doesn’t throw his words out flippantly. Sweat ran into his eyes,
blisters grated his hands as he lifted the next brick, and threats
continued to ring in the air. “Those who carried materials did their work
with one hand and held a weapon in the other.” Not optimal working
conditions.
Whatever building or repairing God has called us to, the key to getting
through the times of overwhelming discouragement are found in Nehemiah’s
clarion words. “Remember the Lord.”
Maybe I CAN write one more paragraph today, after all.
Blessings,
Sharon Hinck
The Experience of a Book
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you; the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was.” – Ernest Hemingway
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Bonus Scene 7 – The Restorer’s Son
–>
The Restorer’s Son – Bonus Scene
In which Zarek anticipates sparring with Kieran
After Chapter 25
Zarek:
My sword danced, perfectly balanced in my grip. The young soldier across from me responded with such a timid thrust that I barely kept from decapitating him. “Attack me! Stop sniveling.”
He swung with more vigor, but still kept too much distance to be a threat. How could I ever strengthen my skills when every sparring partner feared accidentally nicking the king?
My mood darkened, and I advanced on the boy. One of my generals told me this lieutenant was the best swordsman he’d seen in years, but so far he’d acted like a skittish lehken colt. Before I could mount an attack that would force a stronger response, a messenger skidded to a stop in the doorway of the practice hall.
“Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt, but you asked for a report . . . ” The skinny boy wrung his hands and shifted from foot to foot. More sniveling.
I sheathed my sword and waved him into the room. “It’s all right. We hadn’t begun yet.”
The lieutenant, already covered in a sheen of sweat, turned a shade paler and wiped his forehead. The messenger took a few cautious steps into the room.
“The prison guard reports that Kieran interviewed the woman and she collapsed. The practitioner was summoned, and she recovered.”
My brows rose. I’d sent Kieran to question the newest trespassers from Braide Wood, not kill them.
I sighed and sank onto a nearby bench. “You’re dismissed,” I told the young lieutenant. He gave a stiff bow and half ran from the room. I turned to the messenger. “Tell the prison chief I need a more detailed report. Keep me informed. Oh, and tell my aide I want some orberry wine.”
The messenger scampered off, and after murmured words outside the door, I enjoyed a few moments of blissful isolation to think. Had I been wrong to trust Kieran with this small job? Did he plan to silence the prisoners because they had information he wanted to keep from me?
Trust was never a wise plan. My grandfather had been murdered by his most trusted general, who was then killed by my father when he took the throne. I’d fended off several failed coups since becoming king. Kept me alert.
Maybe I was slipping.
Though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, protecting my position every moment of every day created a deep loneliness that even a few convenient temple girls couldn’t chase away. My recent conversations with Kieran were a welcome distraction, and the strange Verses he recited stirred interest in me that I hadn’t felt in years. He’d had a chance to kill me and hadn’t taken it. Still, I knew better than to trust him.
Kieran had been a welcome diversion and a good Perish opponent, but the things he spoke of had added new complications to my life. Time to get my focus back on protecting my throne. Perhaps I would need to interview the new prisoners myself—as if I didn’t have enough to do with Bezreth pressuring me to reopen the temples, the generals scheming, and enemies threatening every border.
I drew my sword and indulged in a few patterns, then reluctantly sheathed it. I really needed a good session of sparring. A smile stretched my lips. Perhaps Kieran would be an interesting opponent and far less overcautious than any of my soldiers. My mood lightened as I left the hall and headed toward my quarters.
—
You can find more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!
The Bridge
“For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus,” I Timothy 2:5 (ESV)
Lord Jesus, thank you for being our bridge, for restoring our communion with the Father. Help us walk with You today. Guide our steps and let Your light shine in our hearts. Amen.
Blessings!
Sharon Hinck
New Release Today!
Today is the day! The Deliverer is out – the newest book in the award-winning Sword of Lyric series. Please use the buttons below this post to share the news. Thanks for helping me spread the word.
A lost songkeeper must lead her people to a long awaited Deliverer
Eager to serve the One, a young songkeeper travels to the dark and foreign nation of Hazor, but her confusing, rough-edged companion has lost his Restorer gifts. As danger rises against them both, she loses her freedom, her memories, and her hope. Now even the very music of her soul is threatened.
In our world, Susan Mitchell no longer feels at home in the carpool lane. Burdened by the unhealed scars from her trips through the portal, she fights to suppress her worry about her son, who remains out of contact in Lyric. But when a mysterious message hints Jake is in danger, she and her husband are swept away—to the place they least expect.
Please Share This: Clan rebellions. Lost Restorers. Has the One turned away, or will the face of the Deliverer bring light to the darkness?”
Ask for the book at your local bookstore, or order it online today.
Blessings!
Sharon
Summer News Tomorrow
My free summer e-zine goes out tomorrow to my Book Buddy subscribers. If you’d like to receive it in your email, just sign up
It’s easy, and I won’t share your email with anyone.
And you’ll never miss out on special updates, contests, or giveaways.
Blessings!
Sharon Hinck
Seeking
I have sought your face with all my heart;
be gracious to me according to your promise. Psalm 119:58 (NIV)
Lord, thank you for promising that when we seek, we will find. Thank you for wanting to be found by us. Reveal new things about Your nature today. Help us see more of Your grace. Amen.
(Feel free to share this using any of the buttons below the post)
Bonus Scene 6 – The Restorer’s Son
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The Restorer’s Son Bonus Scene
In which Nolan faces a desperate choice.
After Chapter 19
Nolan:
I tugged my mother’s arm, half supporting her and half dragging her away from the king’s judgment room.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly. “We should help him.”
“Who? What are you talking about?” We needed to get out of the palace before another whim changed Zarek’s mind.
“Kieran. Maybe there is something we could do to—”
“Mother. Weren’t you listening? The king ordered our deaths. It would be suicide to interrupt again.” I pulled her along and she didn’t have the physical strength to resist.
She looked back over her shoulder. “But he saved us. We have to try to help him.”
Rage burned from the core of my being and filled my chest. “Saved us? He’s the reason I was charged with treason. And Zarek nearly had you killed, too. Kieran deserves whatever he gets. Now let’s go!”
She sagged and I wrapped an arm around her waist. I barely felt the weight of her arm across my shoulders as we raced along crooked hallways and out the main entrance. “Almost home,” I whispered. After a few more streets and a turn down a littered alley, our broken doorway promised refuge. Her legs barely supported her long enough to get inside. I settled her on her pallet and brought water and a new drug patch. She gave me a weak smile and closed her eyes.
Watching her surrender to sleep stirred my greatest fear: one day I’d see her close her eyes for the last time. No one recovered from Rammelite fever. Her effort to get to the palace and confront the king had probably stolen even more of her limited time. I knew I should feel grateful. She’d saved my life. But for some reason I also felt angry that she’d risked herself.
I collapsed into our one chair and stretched my feet out, rubbing my wrists which still remembered the manacles. No, I wasn’t angry at her.
My hand traveled across my forearm. Yesterday, raw broken skin seared with pain at the slightest touch. Now the skin was whole. Even bruises had disappeared. What evil arts did Kieran know that gave him that sort of power? I shivered and jumped out of the chair, pacing our small common room.
Most of the Braide Wood barbarians had been predictable—clumsy, brutal enemies acting just as I expected. But Kieran had touched a deeper terror in me. I’d been desperate to escape him and thrilled when I succeeded. I’d even indulged some pride as I raced back to Hazor, thinking of the stories I’d tell the other messengers. I’d survived being a prisoner of our enemies, escaped, and brought valuable information for our army . . . or so I’d thought.
Seeing him in chains in the Hazor cell did little to ease my fear of Kieran. He was a dangerous enemy full of trickery and deceit.
Why had he used his skill at manipulation to convince the king to free me? Did he really feel remorse? He’d told the king he regretted what he’d done to me. Not likely. He was plotting some other scheme.
My mother stirred. She fought hard to hide her pain, but in her sleep, quiet groans escaped. I wanted nothing more than to get us both out of the city and far from all the danger, but she couldn’t travel. For now, I could only keep her comfortable.
I knelt beside her pallet, blotting away the sheen of feverish sweat from my mother’s face. The hollows of her cheeks were deeper than when I’d left for Morsal Plains with the army. I stood and shook out my arms, the weight of chains still lingering. If I ventured out to the markets, perhaps I could beg, borrow, or steal a bit of dried caradoc and make a broth. I wanted to make her better. Every part of me screamed in frustration because I couldn’t. But at least I could get some food into her. With one more worried glance at my mother, I slipped out the door.
—
You can find more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!
