I thought I would post a sampling of the writing in White Staff for those who might be interested. This is just a few paragraphs from a random chapter. There is a preview available on-line through Amazon which is several pages long.
“Lay still and do not move. Utter no sound. Death is above us.” Hafram reached over and startled Eston covering them both in Hafram’s black cloak. “We are hunted from the skies.” Hafram’s words were spoken in hushed tones. “Death circles above.”
“How do you know this?” Eston returned his in kind.
“I am a wizard,” Hafram replied with a raised brow.
They lay still for several minutes before Hafram would allow them to rise. He peeked carefully from beneath his cloak scanning the sky. No star now twinkled from existence again to relight. The shadow had passed.
“What was that?”
“The tables are turning. The stakes have just been raised in our hunt.” Hafram again looked to the stars to make sure in his mind the shadow was gone. “Blackness rides the night sky. My captor has a new method. He rides a night-demon, nearly dead but not so. If he had seen us the garrison would be upon us. We must change direction.”
“We can not afford to lead Dreash to Aethan.”
“You are correct. I think it is now time to make contact with both of them.” Hafram took his customary position and began his journey. He purposefully moved his thoughts north, the opposite direction of Dreash’s travel.
His thoughts were bent on Aethan and Falton. He needed to make sure they were in no current danger. The Noran Dur loomed before him as his eyes passed over the shadows below. He covered the landscape with his thoughts but the recognition he sought would not come. He found himself moving westward, over the scrubby town of Kohl. He was being pulled in that direction, but why? A new thought burst into his consciousness. Cirah!
He let his thoughts free themselves completely and the grounds below passed with great speed. The mountains of Noran Dur gave way to the Hallerstrom and the lands of Korsand. His spirit dove as he now found himself within the city walls of Thyroborn the ancient capital of this northern world. The pull from Cirah was strong. Hafram’s spirit entered the great hall as his form lay now before all present.“Peace be to you Hillarsol, Sovereign of Korsand."