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David McLeod

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  1. David McLeod
    Linxe has a knack for reducing simple issues like love, hate, and friendship to complex stories that capture the imagination and the heart. It was my pleasure to reread the entire story in order to catch up. It has to be Linxe's language, for the pictures in my mind of the principal characters (and isn't the principal a jerk!) and the home are vivid. On a critical level, the diction was hard to accept, initially, but the more I learn about Micah, the more natural it seems.
  2. David McLeod
    An unexpected, but very satisfying depth.
  3. David McLeod
    I remember, now, one of the reasons I liked this story so much. Linxe gives the reader a good mix of dialogue and narration, that helps the story flow. So many stories have too much of one or the other, which tires, quickly.
  4. David McLeod
    So much detail, and so precise! There's just enough information to make the story believable without being overwhelming.
  5. David McLeod
    Linxe has a gift for creating a complex web (pun intended) of characters and situations. I remember reading this story when it first came out, and have enjoyed discovering it, again. The reality of selective mutism is brought into focus by this story. Linxe has used this reality to create a fantasy world (at least, I sincerely hope it's fantasy) that must be read to be experienced.
  6. David McLeod
    Linxe deals with powerful themes, and he does it so that they live in the imagination of his readers. I'm going to have to go back to the beginning to really appreciate what he's done, here. But what he says pierces the fog like a laser lighthouse. If that makes any sense.
  7. David McLeod
    Although it was early spring, the breeze was reminiscent of winter as James and Kenneth rode into Cross Creek. “You know the stories, and you’ve met Acclaudius; I want you to meet the rest of his family, too,” James said, as he and Kenneth rode toward the River Horse Inn. “I don’t know where we may travel after fulfilling our mission in Fortmain, but in the service of the Light, I think we need to have friends. So far, I’ve found none better or more true than those in Cross Creek.” Acclaudius
  8. David McLeod
    The clerics and acolytes chanted and gestured as they snared magic and wove it to their ends while the storm continued to rage. With the approach of dawn, a break in the clouds on the eastern horizon let a ruddy beam of sunlight through to strike the workbench. A miracle, thought Martin; a coincidence, mused Alten. Alten, however, quick to seize the symbolism of the moment, lifted the silver hammer above his head, snaring the lines of magic coming to him from Arne. Arne felt the power from James
  9. David McLeod
    Alten and Senshen locked eyes. The tension in the courtyard of the Temple complex was palpable. Clerics moved slowly to one side or the other. The majority stood behind Alten. Senshen snorted, and averted his eyes. In the wagon, Kenneth focused his attention and power onto James. After more than ten minutes, Kenneth leaned back and took his hand from James’ chest. The boy’s hair fell to his shoulders as the residual charge dissipated. “How is he, Kenneth,” Alten asked quietly. “He will
  10. David McLeod
    Alten sat in a comfortable chair, slowly puffing a long, white pipe. The stem of the pipe was slightly bowed; the bowl was unusually wide at the top, and unusually narrow at the bottom. In other worlds at other times, this style of pipe would be known as the Church Warden’s Pipe. On the other side of the fire, James sat patiently, waiting for his senior to speak. The tween had been thoroughly debriefed by Alten and certain other senior clerics, among them those who had studied the slimy, evil, p
  11. David McLeod
    Alten stood beside a workbench in the outbuilding where the six strange coins were being examined. “The conservative clerics—Senshen’s coterie—doubt that these coins are what they seem, and deny that the miasma that surrounds them is Evil. They say it’s merely age that is fooling us into thinking they’re Evil. That crowd is so busy fondling memories of the past—many, I think, imaginary—that they cannot face the real world.” He sighed as he folded the leather around the coins. “James, I t
  12. David McLeod
    If we do not crush eggs we will have to slay dragons. —Origin unknown Alten spoke softly, but firmly. “The custom of training acolytes in the skills of a warrior, while honored in your home, has fallen from favor here in the capital city. As you have learned, we do have a Master of Arms, and some of the boys can use a quarterstaff with a little skill; some fewer study fencing—a poor excuse for swordsmanship. I’m afraid that most of our energies go into politics.” Alten paused, t
  13. David McLeod
    James bade farewell to the caravan master, and then watched as the train of wagons continued east, toward the docks and warehouses of the city of Arcadia. The caravan master had been glad of James’ sword and his skill as a healer. James had been glad of the food and shelter—however rude—offered in lieu of payment for his services. He was also glad of the safety that came from traveling with a large band. There had been only one encounter with brigands during their journey from Bowling Green. Jam
  14. David McLeod
    A teen with an earnest desire to become a Warrior-Cleric travels from a small town to the capital city and enrolls in the central temple of Arcadia. It is not long, however, before his skills and training lead him into danger. Along the way, he meets a half-Elven boy who becomes his acolyte and companion.
  15. David McLeod
    Will and Barrett left their horses with a squad of soldiers who hid in a copse a few miles from Norfork. The boys rode into the city on a farm wagon, drawn by oxen and filled with produce. The boys and the wagon passed through the gate among a dozen others, and attracted no attention. No one was watching when they jumped from the wagon as it passed a particular alley. Barrett held the hem of Will’s cloak and followed closely. They crept silently across the stable yard. Their goal was the mud
  16. David McLeod
    Kerry woke Will and Barrett. “You must not come to the common room,” he said. “Your breakfast is in the kitchen. Wait there for my father.” He hurried out the door. The publican’s wife fed the boys, and then urged them to wait in the scullery. “You’ll not be seen should someone enter the kitchen. Not likely, I know, but…” She shut the door behind herself. Will assessed the situation. Kerry’s summons had alarmed him, so he’d brought his sword, carefully wrapped and tied in his blanket.
  17. David McLeod
    The bath was located at an inn. The shingle over the door proclaimed it to be The Boar’s Head. Will puzzled at the symbol: a boar’s head issuant, he thought. I’ve seen that before, somewhere. To the right of the main door, a smaller door leading to the bath opened. Will and Barrett were enveloped in a cloud of steam and eucalyptus and warmth that quickly dissipated in the cold air. Will forgot his curiosity about the boar’s head and tugged Barrett’s hand, leading the boy inside. The bath atte
  18. David McLeod
    Two men wearing Army tabards leaned against the open gate watching people, wagons, and livestock enter and leave the city. The guards were chewing something. At intervals, they spat a greenish-brown juice onto the road. The guards nudged one another and grinned when their spittle landed particularly close to a traveler’s feet. Their attitude did not surprise Will. Without making it obvious, he walked on the opposite side of the road and passed through the gate without being questioned—or spatter
  19. David McLeod
    A beggar who is afraid for his life encounters a boy who claims to be a prince. This is a medieval fantasy adventure in a world in which the magical is mundane—but still, very special.
  20. David McLeod
    Phillip’s Journal Urucará, who is called “Uru” familiarly, the tween who took us prisoner when we first arrived, has deliberately avoided me since that day. Today, I distilled all my courage into one moment and confronted him, asking why he left the bath when I arrived and turned aside if we approached one another on a path. He was very surprised and then became angry. He started to turn away, but I took his arm and demanded that tell me. “The concordia of this place is broken,” I told him. “
  21. David McLeod
    A fair wind made Javari’s task easier as he steered Xander around the point. Javari and Maranon cheered when their village came into sight. Phillip hid his dismay. I was hoping for a large port city—one that traded with other continents, other peoples; one that would hold men of wisdom, men of greater magic than at Japura’s village. I should have known better, though, based on what Javari’s father said. Argon had joined the two Elven boys in their excitement, calling “Ahoy!” and “Halloo!” to the
  22. David McLeod
    Driftwood littered the beach over which Phillip and Argon walked. The tide continued to rise. Tropical jungle on one side and waves on the other restricted the boys to a narrow strip of sand. Phillip reached back to help Argon over the trunk of a long dead, sun-bleached tree. “We won’t get much farther today,” Phillip said. “It’s barely noon, but the tide’s still coming in.” “We have to find shelter, too,” Argon warned. “Look. Look at the clouds. It’s a storm.” Phillip looked at the sky to
  23. David McLeod
    Phillip was afraid. The final test was to be trial by combat. He and Japura were naked; they stood at opposite sides of a circular dirt arena on the outskirts of the village. The arena was surrounded by what appeared to be all the men and boys from the village. There were also many Phillip did not recognize. They must have sent out flyers, he thought nervously. No, market starts tomorrow. I remember. These people must have come for that. Oh…that’s a knife! The Smith had given Japura one of th
  24. David McLeod
    The Elves of Solimoes Phillip and Argon pushed their way through fern and vines until they were a hundred yards into the jungle. It was only mid-afternoon, but they had been struggling over loosely packed sand since morning, and both were tired. The dense roots of a toppled tree provided a shelter, of sorts. It was cool in the shade of the jungle, and they both put on their blue jeans and cotton shirts. They spread their blankets and prepared to eat. Phillip continued a practice he’d initiate
  25. David McLeod
    Phillip spat sand from his mouth and rolled onto his side. Sand? Then he sat up. He was on a beach. The sky was so bright it was nearly white. His heart pounded and his chest tightened. Argon! He let out his breath when he saw Argon stirring beside him. Phillip’s heartbeat began to slow. “Argon, are you all right?” Phillip asked. “I’m fine,” Argon replied. “How long have we been here?” “I just woke up,” Phillip said. He helped Argon to his feet. The two boys brushed off the sand that c
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