# The Company of Women is a Dangerous Thing (RCG 18)



## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The Red Cross of Gold XVIII:. The Company of Women is filled with fairies, magick, monsters and battles. $3.99 at Amazon. And available in paperback from Createspace.
Here's a little snippet:

"You dare to insult the King of the Formorians?" The beast's voice was almost unbearable. Omar's horse tried to bolt and he reined it around in a tight circle. "You are the ugly one, little bird. Won't you fly away to the trees and build a nest? Lay an egg?"
Luke fought to control the frantic horse and turned him about to face the creature again.
"I grow weary of your blundering incompetence! Even your insults are as pitiful as your looks!" He shouted at the thing. "Come forward and feel the sting of my blade. I will cut you down like Frodo slew Smaug! Like David slew Golgotha! Like Samson slew Delilah!"
"Luke!!" Omar shouted at him louder than before and the brightly colored beserker turned bright blue eyes on him. "You've lost your mind. The thing will rip you to shreds! Us!! Rip us to shreds! Be reasonable!"
"What? This cowardly one? Look at him!" Luke shouted as the horse reared again. "He doesn't even wear knickers. Stinking beast! Nasty bastard! Were all your people so ugly? It is no wonder they cast you in the sea with the rest of the slime."
Balor reached out lazily with one long spikey arm and swiped the noisy upstart from the back of the horse. Luke struck the ground, rolled and came up with his sword held high. Shaken, but hardly daunted in his determination to make a showdown and be done with it. The red horse bolted back toward the keep. Omar rode in close to him and reached down one hand, offering him a boost up.
"Go with your sparkly friend, little one. Leave the battles to those who are stronger and wiser!" Balor rumbled contemptuously, blasting Luke with his fishy breath and then turned to address Omar. "Send out the wizard. It is Ramsay I would have, not this prattling fool of a son. I would spread his remains across the rocks for the vultures.


Spoiler



And then rape his women


!" With this last threat, he proceeded to model the tool for this impending doom in a terrible display.
"Fight me, you putrid pile of fish bait!


Spoiler



You can't even get that thing up to rape a jackass


!!" He shouted. "Shake it at me again and I'll turn you into a woman for your trouble!" Luke turned around and raised his kilt, mooning the beast with his


Spoiler



bare *ss


.
"Luke!" Omar shouted at him in despair. "Don't provoke him." 
Luke refused Omar's hand and stepped forward indignantly.


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Brendan will this be...a 1 and a 2 and a 3


Spoiler



series


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## Meredith Sinclair (May 21, 2009)

Funny Clip PLEASE!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Just for you and hopefully others.  Our hero is trying to arrange a loan from a lady of dubious reputation without putting his own at risk and is attempting to send a note to her by way of his hapless, hopeless servant:

“I have an urgent errand for you, Boone and on my life, if you utter one word of it to anyone in this house or any other before I am well dead and resting in my grave, I will send you to hell in front of me to test whether the place actually exists as the good Reverend Briggs insists that it does.  If I hear one word on the stinking breath of your alehouse companions, I will send them all with you.  Do you understand?”

“Sir!”  Boone stood staring at him, still holding one discarded stocking in his hands.  “With all my heart, sir, I swear it and you will never know how your cruel words tear at me.  I protest my innocence.  Never have I ever spilt one word of your business in the presence of friends or strangers.  Such a thing would render me unfit for service.”

“Good,” David nodded absently, but dared not look at the disheveled man for fear of smiling or laughing and thereby, spoiling the effect of the upbraiding.  He plucked the letter from the table and weighed it in the palm of his right hand.  It seemed to grow heavier even as he perused its cover.  He dared not write the lady’s address on the paper, or even her name.  Boone had good intentions, but he was totally untrustworthy in the best of times and a disaster at the worst possible moments.  “Take this letter to her ladyship.  You know the way.”

“Of course, good sir,” Boone muttered, dropped the stocking and took the letter gingerly from his master’s hands.  He held it reverently in front of him as if it were a holy relic.  “Not a word.  On my honor, sir, you can depend on old Boone, your faithful, but poor servant.  I will guard it with my life’s blood.  I would have my lips seared with a glowing brand before I should reveal your secrets in low society.  It matters little to me on whom you would turn your attention and further, I would deem that one most privileged indeed to have captured your eye.  Why, I would have my eyes plucked from their sockets before I would see something untoward happen to you, sir, through my action or inaction.  Though, on my life, I should have thought you might be more inclined toward some younger of the fairer sex.  I would have my ears clean shaven from my head…”

“Enough… I beg you,” David waved one tired hand at the exuberant servant.  “You go too far,” Master Hunt warned as he raised his dark green eyes to meet the pale blue orbs.


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

I want this book, I want this book, I want this book!!!!!!  (throwing a tantrum...it's not pretty), please hurry Mr. Carroll.  Tell me when I can get it!


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

It sounds like another of your finely crafted books looking for it soon...


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## Meredith Sinclair (May 21, 2009)

ROTFLM*O!!!!    

I must meet this Boone character! Absolutely hilarious Brendan!


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

mamiller said:


> I want this book, I want this book, I want this book!!!!!! (throwing a tantrum...it's not pretty), please hurry Mr. Carroll. Tell me when I can get it!


when is this one gonna be out...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Hope to have this one out for Saint Paddy's Day or thereabouts.  I have to start looking for a suitable cover.  Is that good?


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

*yes it will have 2 do *


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The Red Cross of Gold XVIII:. The Company of Women due out on Kindle by July 31!  The Council members learn even more of the truth of the Primitive Rule of the Order which requires the Knights of Christ to remain celibate.  A preview has been attached to a modified version of the original post in this thread.


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

I use that title/line with my dw and dgf all of the time, its so right...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

_The Red Cross of Gold XVIII:. The Company of Women _ now available on Amazon.com Kindle Store for $2.99.

The Chevalier Mark Andrew Ramsay finds himself catching the worst of three worlds as battles rage in two of them and intrigue develops in the third. The Queen of the Abyss, the Queen of the Center and the King of the Tuatha de Danaan may be more than the venerable Knight of Death can handle at one time, but he may have more going for him than everyone suspects. He must protect the Order and the Order's interests from the evil powers that have usurped Omar Kadif's empire since the Prophet suffered an unfortunate accident. Meanwhile, he must try to win over his wayward son, Luke Andrew and recruit enough power to put down a threat to the woodland elves. Just when he thinks things can't get any worse... well... he must face his own worst nightmare.











For those of you who have not yet started reading the Assassin Chronicles, Book I:. The Knight of Death is still discounted to $1.99 at Amazon. Happy Reading!!


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## GreenThumb (Mar 29, 2009)

Bought it!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Thank you, Miss Thumb.  I had a terrible time getting this one out for some reason.... well, for a number of reasons, but Thanks!!! Enjoy!


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

GreenThumb said:


> Bought it!


I just wanted to chime in here and say I love this little woohoo guy!


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## GreenThumb (Mar 29, 2009)

I do, too.  He was on a forum I frequented once upon a time, and then he disappeared with some upgrade or other.  I searched and searched the net until I found him again, and saved him to my photobucket album.  Now I can add him to a post whenever the situation warrants it.....like the release of a new Red Cross of Gold book.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The Red Cross of Gold XVIII:. The Company of Women is now available at the Kindle store.  The battle heats up in the underworld and things worsen in the overworld as the Fox closes its fist on the Order's throat. Omar has succumbed to a mysterious illness. Luke Andrew is at his wits end and the Formorian monsters are on their way from the deep. 
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003XIJ5NE

"You can leave me here and go for help," Omar told him. "Just give me my sword before you go." He reached up for the hilt, but could not pull the heavy blade from behind his back. "Don't leave me unarmed."
"You can't do anything with that sword," Luke told him miserably.
"I can hold it. That will be a comfort," Omar told him. "Now just give it to me and let me die honorably, my uncle. Tell my father that I died with honor."
Luke rolled his eyes and got up. He muttered under his breath about how much honor Lemarik and his father had put into abandoning them. He pulled the great blade from the sheath and placed the hilt in the Prophet's hands then ran back to the gate and took a quick peek out onto the plain. A strange misty fog was rising up and over the cliff, spreading out over the open expanse.
"Great. Just great!" 
Luke's last hopes faded as he heard low rumbling noises from the direction of the source of the fog. He could see no sign of life on the battlefield in front of the wall. The fog had already drifted in far enough to obscure the line of colorful tents and pennants in the distance where the Tuathan encampment was situated. He hurried back to Omar and knelt beside him again.
"What did you see?" Omar's eyes had cleared and he had a strange expression on his face.
"Nothing," Luke lied to him. "Now look, you can't stay here. I'm going back to the keep. I'm going to find something to tie you on the horse and then we'll make a dash for the forest. I didn't see any Tuathans. We might be able to ride straight through."


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## crebel (Jan 15, 2009)

Brendan, I haven't been on the boards too much lately and missed that The Company of Women has been available for a week!  I have it now - thanks so much!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Thank you, Miss Crebel.  Haven't heard from you in a long time.  Glad you're still enjoying the books.  Here's a little bit of conversation between two of the beautiful women in Mark Andrew's life:

“Dragons. Yes.  There is always a danger, but one must be prepared for everything.  I saw your father’s dragon sleeping on a mountainside in Arabia when I was flying over.”
“Not my father’s,” Lucia objected.  To Anna, all the Knights were Lucia’s ‘fathers’ and Anna’s ‘grandfathers’.  “That was Sir Ramsay’s dragon…”  Lucia dropped her cup in the saucer and her eyes widened.  “You saw my father’s dragon?  Sleeping?  In this world?”
“Of course.”  Anna waved one hand about casually.  “Dragons must sleep.  In fact, they spend a great deal of time sleeping.  Resting.  Watching and observing.”
“But how did it get here?”
“Most likely it flew here from one of the caves in the wilderness.  There are many caves in the mountains there.  There is nothing to keep them from coming here.  I have seen many dragons.  Most do not like the sights and smells of men and their civilizations.  They prefer the more remote regions, but their territories are growing smaller and smaller.  Take the plight of the rainforest dragons.  They are hard-pressed to find a decent napping spot these days.  I would not be surprised if they did not begin raiding again.  My uncle did well to stop the destruction of the forests there.  With time and a bit of luck, the forest will return and the dragons will have a place to live in peace.”


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

_The Company of Women, Book XVIII:. Assassin Chronicles_ is available for $2.99 at the Kindle Store. Here's another small blurb.

_ "I am going to go home for a bit," Lucio told Jozsef as they stepped onto the patio out of Abyaz' hearing. "I want you to keep a close eye on Schweikert. I don't think we've seen the last of him. It was too easy to subdue him and it might be a ruse. I wish that Konrad was here with us. I'd have him take a look in that twisted mind and see what is what."
"Ruth will be very upset if you leave us," Jozsef told him. "She is also very jealous of Anna."
"Santa Maria," Lucio moaned and pressed one hand over his eyes. "It is understandable that she would be confused. You play your part very well. Ruth is doing her best. In fact, I never would have believed it possible. She is stronger than I had ever imagined."
"Anna understands, but it is very difficult," Jozsef told him. "Ruth is teaching the baby to call me Poppi. He is already saying pa, pa, pa. Anna thinks it's very funny. I don't."
"It is only temporary. You are doing quite well. Have you learned anything more from our Minister about the programming?" Lucio leaned out over the balcony and checked the courtyard for anyone who might be lurking there.
"He doesn't think it can be reversed, but he knows it can be modified," Jozsef said. "These people have taken the mark of the beast. What do you think?"
"It is God's will. I never realized that they would do so in such apparent ignorance." Lucio frowned at him. "It is a shame."
"Do you realize the power I can wield?" Jozsef sat down in one of the metal chairs at the wrought-iron table. "It is like being a god. If I say it, it is so. I have to be very careful. They tore down an entire building last week because I mentioned in passing that it was not to my liking. I said something like 'the style is too heavy for me. I like lighter stone.' And the next thing I know, they are demolishing the place and rebuilding it with white brick. I am afraid to travel. They want me to go to Jerusalem. They say I need to put in an appearance there and also at Hagia Sophia. Kadif's Memorial Temple in Constantinople. I'm also supposed to meet with the Holy See in Rome next month and then officiate the opening ceremonies of the winter Olympics in Toronto. I can't do that. I can't do any of that. I don't speak the languages that Omar does. I'm afraid, Lucio. I'm terrified. There is something all wrong about this other than the obvious. I have terrible dreams."_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Here's a little humorous snippet from the Company of Women. The faeries have called a meeting to discuss the war and how best to wage it. They have gathered together at Mark's castle in the underworld and one of the clurichauns is laying down some ground rules for meeting etiquette. Not exactly Robert's Rules of Order, but close.

_"Now fur general parposes," Seamus continued when the whooping and hollering died down "I wud lay down th' usual rules fur general assembly fur those o' ye 'oo moight 'ave furgotten and those o' ye 'oo may be 'ere fur th' furst toime."
He held up his short stumpy arms and begin to count off a rhythm much like the director of a band. The clurichauns sitting nearby and around him began to beat the rhythm on the table top with the hilts of their daggers. Seamus patted his foot and began to chant the rules of the assembly.
"Oye, Oye. Oll ye listen and ye will hear. Th' rules will be made known parfectly clear. Aftar th' initial greetin', this will be a quiet meetin'. Thair will be no shoutin', no poutin', no yellin', no buyin', nor sellin', no screamin', no 'owlin', no grumblin', no mumblin', no shufflin', no bumpin', no thumpin', no scratchin', no wigglin', no gigglin', no slurpin' or burpin' yur drinks. No singin', no dancin', no horses a' prancin', no moanin', no groanin', no wailin', no railin', no pushin' or shovin', no lovey yur dovin', no flirtin', no squirtin', no floyin', no croyin', no bangin' yur friends on thair binks. No clickin', no clackin'. No bricken, no bracken. No cussin' or cursin', no spoutin' off versen, no smokin', no stompin' yur feets, no gripin', no snipin', no snippin', no nippin', no gettin' out o' yur seats, no slappin', no yappin', no bitin' off mor'n ye can chew, no flittin', no spittin', no takin' off nor throwin' yur shoe. Now thot's aboot it, fur a whoile and a bit, thot's oll I can say, methinks. So just settle back, and park up yur ears and they'll fotch us a fresh round o' drinks."
The assembled faeries nodded and murmured their unanimous acceptance of these rules. Seamus signaled for silence and then turned to bow to the King again. Mark Andrew sat drinking from his Royal tankard with a peculiar look on his face, somewhere between shock and amusement.
"Yur hoighness," Seamus addressed Mark Andrew directly. "Th' assembly is ready fur yur Royal decrees." He hopped down to the bench and then squeezed into an extraordinarily small space between Paddy and another of his 'cousins'._


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

thanks laddie...now that we have these "wards" to use as guidelines our saftey training will be much better...for those with weak "stomaches" I won't tell about running with swords...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The next installment of the Red Cross of Gold:. Assassin Chronicles is nearing completion after a number of upsetting delays. The nineteenth book in the series is entitled: How Men Do It. Here is a short excerpt from the book wherein Luke Andrew has just summoned up something unexpected.

_When he opened his eyes again, his father stood before him with his hands on his hips, glaring at him angrily.
"Father?" Luke Andrew stood up quickly and took a stumbling step backwards. Mark Andrew wore no shirt. He was covered with a sheen of perspiration and his dark hair was plastered to his head as if he had caught him in the middle of a strenuous work-out.
"Luke?" Mark Andrew frowned at him. "Whattar ye doin'?"
"I was trying&#8230; I need to&#8230; we need to&#8230;" Luke stammered as his father stepped forward and looked at him closely.
"Wot is this?" He caught Luke's hair in his hand and turned about dragging his shell-shocked son with him. He touched the hilt of the sword and it shimmered brightly. "Me swoard?"
"No&#8230; yes." Luke said and tried to keep at least part of his hair.
"Whair air we?" Mark Andrew looked up toward the top of the tower.
"In the Fyer Tower," Luke told him and managed to extract himself from the painful grip that Mark had on his hair.
"Whattar we doin' 'ere?"
"We have a problem."
"Ye got thot roight," his father growled and then shivered._


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

Ahhh...nothing like a scene with Mark Andrew, shirtless


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

mamiller said:


> Ahhh...nothing like a scene with Mark Andrew, shirtless


You're making me blush... oh, you said Mark Andrew! Oh, sorry. Thanks, Miss Miller. He is up to his a


Spoiler



rmpits


 in trouble this time. The Queen of the Abyss wants him to do some housecleaning... It's hot in the Abyss!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In _Book XVIII:. The Company of Women_ the fate of Omar, the Prophet and his trusty advisor, Luke Andrew, son of the Knight of Death, has taken a decidedly unexpected change of direction as they find themselves in the underworld embroiled in an all out faery war.

_"Whatcha doin', Omar?" He asked as he bumped one of the strange looking things his father called Ghillie Dhu, farther down the bench. They were very light creatures which seemed more plant than anything else. This one looked like it needed a pot to sit in rather than a bench and it was licking an odd looking crystal it held between two of its feathery fingers. "Excuse me," Luke muttered and cast a sidelong glance at the creature. It made a snuffling noise and turned liquid green eyes on him&#8230; four of them.

"Eating oatmeal. What does it look like?" Omar grumped.

"Oooh. Snippy this morning, are we?" Luke raised both eyebrows.

"I am very frustrated with these creatures." Omar waved one hand about the grand hall. "They seem to know nothing of God and do not want to hear about Him."

"Your father said you could not proselytize these things," Luke chuckled and arrested a cup of wine from one of the Brownies passing by with a wooden tray full of food and drink. "They are not human. They don't have souls."

"And, if one must be human to have a soul, then you and I are doomed," Omar said miserably. "They are children of God the same as you and I."

"We aren't doomed, Nephew. I prefer to think of us as exempt," Luke told him. "We are exempt from all the misery that plagues mortal men. You take yourself too seriously. You need a diversion. You need to learn to play a little. Besides we already know the way to heaven and hell and lived to tell about it."

"I was never good at play, Luke. I never saw the purpose in it," Omar said quietly and glanced about the big room that was literally swarming with faeries of every ilk and description.

"My point exactly. Now would be a good time to do something different. We're stuck here; we might as well make the most of it." Luke plucked a big, red apple from a wooden bowl on the table and took a loud, crunchy bite of it, sending out juice in every direction.

"I don't want to be stuck here again, Luke," Omar said miserably as he wiped the apple juice from his arm. "I want to go home!" He said a bit louder and held out both hands to his uncle imploringly. "I miss my wife and my son. There is no telling what Abyaz and the general are doing without us. Nor is there any way to know how long we've been gone. If they destroy our bodies, we may never be able to return to the life we built for ourselves."

"Then we'll build new ones. The Universe is infinite, Omar. The possibilities endless," Luke told him lightly as he eyed one of the Gwragedd Annwns who sat near the hearth, watching him intently. The beautiful blond faery was the most nearly human of all the creatures in the room with the exception of the diminutive Bean Tighes and Brownies. Her eyes were violet and her long curls were almost white in color. She had colorful feathers and beads braided into the short curls around her face and her skin was milky white accented with a peachy blush. He wondered if this was the same one he had danced with on the roof of the castle the night before or if this was the one that Lemarik had taken a fancy to. He could not tell most of them apart. "Sylf?" He asked quietly and she turned her head away from his gaze. "Not Sylf," he mumbled to himself._


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

A 1 and a 2 and a 3, et. al.! _ The Company of Women_, 18th book in the Assassin Chronicles series, finds one of the Lords of the Abyss dismantling one of his brother's monstrosities, the red dragon. This might be a relief for some, but for others, it could just mean more trouble than ever. Here we have the lovely Queen discoursing with Lord Nergal in the pits of the Abyss.

_The blond woman cowered behind the rocks in the vast cave. The mottled ceiling above her head glimmered and undulated, casting a silvery glow on the darkly stained rocks around the great red serpent. She had screamed until her voice was entirely gone. The horrid yellow head of the beast leered over the boulder at her again. She opened her mouth to scream again, but no sound came out. The dragon drew a deep breath, not complete, but enough to ignite the flames of impending doom. A yellow flame erupted from her nostrils and the blond woman disappeared in a blast of superheated liquid fire. She was dead before she could realize that death had come. Her body vaporized almost instantly leaving nothing but another dark stain on the once white limestone. The stone crackled under the heat of the onslaught as the dragon withdrew.
"Pitiful wretch!" Ereshkigal's voice boomed in the cavern, causing her husband to shudder along the scaly lengths of his huge body. He shook his head and the loose flaps of skin on his neck and shoulders fluttered and slapped together with sickening noises. "Good riddance, little one."
She turned her great yellow eyes on the figure of the golden goddess standing on a rock in front of her.
"Are you still here?" She asked the Orisha.
"You disgust me, beast of


Spoiler



Hell


!" Oshun curled her lip contemptuously. "But I am not one of these poor, defenseless creatures. You cannot burn me with your dragon fire."
Nergal laughed at the courage and foolishness of the lovely goddess.
"You would do well to travel on, my lady," he advised her. "While you have the chance."
Oshun glanced up at the Lord of Abyss and smiled her most brilliant smile at him.
"Yes, my Lord. And I would extend my most sincere appreciation to you for releasing me from this terrible prison. I would also suggest that you leave your wife in this beast and cast her into the pits."
"You are welcome, little one." Nergal smiled at her, exposing a great band of pointed teeth in his red face. "But my wife is most pleasing to me," he lied and Ereshkigal snorted in derision at his lie. "Fly now little bird and do not come here again."
Oshun raised her arms over her head and brought them down around her. As she did so she grew smaller and smaller until she simply disappeared.
"


Spoiler



Bitch


!" The Queen spat the word. "I have never heard such pettiness in all my life. When things are set right, I will find her and her tribe and decimate them to the four winds."
"Whatever you wish, my Queen." Nergal leaned back against the wall of the cavern and crossed his great, muscular legs at the ankles. "There will be plenty of time for that."
_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The King is Dead!! Long Live the King!! 

(Excerpt from Book 18, Assassin Chronicles Series)

_The King drew back the sword and made a roundhouse swing and Mark Andrew stepped back in time to avoid the deadly blade. The momentum took the other completely around. He stumbled on a blood-slicked boulder protruding from the ground and went down on one knee. Mark Andrew stepped forward and brought the hilt of his sword down on his already injured head and the King of the Center dropped to his hands and knees on the ground in front of him. Mark Andrew kicked him in the side and he sprawled onto his back with the cloak beneath him. Mark Andrew raised the sword and brought it straight down pinning him to the ground just as Beaujold had done so many years ago. The King screamed in pain, let go of his own sword and grabbed the hilt of the sword protruding from his stomach. Mark Andrew let go of it and picked up the discarded blade. 
Anna tried to break away from her grandfather, but the Djinni held her back. Simon turned his head and then kicked Corrigan himself in a sudden burst of anger. Lydia looked up at him and shrieked something at him. Corrigan rolled over and began to get up slowly. Jozsef drew his sword and ran toward the terrible scene, screaming something unintelligible. Mark Andrew held up one hand and stopped him in his tracks. Lydia helped Carlisle to his feet and the Tuathan tackled the Healer, rolling him across the rocky ground. Lydia ran after them as Paddy and Seamus and several of the clurichauns came to break them apart. Luke was helping Omar stagger across the plain back toward the keep. He would not stay around to watch this. They would go back to the keep, summon the horses and find the caves leading out of this Godforsaken place.
Mark Andrew reached down and yanked the sword free of the downed King. The King groaned, clutched his stomach and rolled onto his side. More fresh blood poured from the wound. 
The Grand Master threw one of the swords away from him and then grabbed the King by his hair, yanking him up on his knees. King Ramsay sat back on his heels, looking up at the sky, waiting for the final blow that was sure to come.
Mark Andrew walked around behind him, let the sword fall to his side momentarily and then raised it again. He took a short step forward, bringing the sword up over his right shoulder simultaneously. He executed a short dip and brought the sword around in his customary death blow. 
The King turned his head slightly in the direction from which the blow would come. He could see Jozsef still standing frozen a few feet away and he could hear Simon screaming something, but it all seemed so very unreal now. The blade of gold flashed into his line of vision and then he heard a muffled thud before he felt himself flying through a very dark, star-filled sky._


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Brendan Carroll said:


> You're making me blush... oh, you said Mark Andrew! Oh, sorry. Thanks, Miller. He is up to his a
> 
> 
> Spoiler
> ...


we were up to our


Spoiler



chins


 when we cleaned our ship out and we were wearin our tiny


Spoiler



raingear


...ye potty readers


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The *Red Cross of Gold XX:. Cross Purposes  * should be up and running on Kindle before Thanksgiving. Here is a little preview from the twentieth book in the Assassin Chronicles series. The Knight of the Golden Eagle has gotten in over his head yet again:

"Good! We will go into the Abyss and fix this problem," she said simply as she plopped the empty glass in his hand.
"What?! Oh, no. We are not going into the Abyss, bambina. No. No. No. No. No." He wagged one finger in her face and his curls bounced on his shoulders. 
"Oh, yes. Remember?" She took hold of the chain holding his cloak in place and pulled him closer. "You promised. You belong to me. You will go with me. I need your help."
"But, Nicole!" He began to protest and she covered his mouth with her own. He dropped the cup on the floor and took her in his arms as they fell back onto the pillows.
She let go of him and held his face in both hands. He winced at the pain this caused in his face.
"You belong to me," she told him again as she looked into his eyes. "You swore it. Remember what the scriptures say about swearing oaths, Lucio. It would be a sin to break your oath to me. You said you would sell your soul to the devil for me. Remember?"
"Yes. Si`, but&#8230;" She kissed him again.
"Was once enough?" She asked him and he melted. "Are you so fickle?"
"No! It is not like that at all!" He told her. "I would do anything for you, but&#8230;"
"But nothing." 
She placed her hand on his forehead and kissed him again. "It is all or nothing. This is not a game."
"Then it must be all," he whispered against her neck as she stroked his curly hair. "If you go into the Abyss, I will have to follow you."
"And not falter." She closed her eyes as he kissed her throat.
"And not falter."
"And not fail me."
"And not fail you."
"And not betray me."
"And not betray you."
"And to obey me."
"And to obey you."
"Until death do us part."
"Until death do us part."
"Good."
"Good. Very, very good."


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Great Brendan... as "they" say we r waiting n waiting  don't make us wait till t-day come man get Miss Gloryusfishybottom to edit faster,quicker, better...


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

Miss Gloryusfishybottom! hahhahahaha


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Here's a snippet from the Company of Women.... STILL a dangerous thing!










_"Your father said you could not proselytize these things," Luke chuckled and arrested a cup of wine from one of the Brownies passing by with a wooden tray full of food and drink. "They are not human. They don't have souls."
"And, if one must be human to have a soul, then you and I are doomed," Omar said miserably. "They are children of God the same as you and I."
"We aren't doomed, Nephew. I prefer to think of us as exempt," Luke told him. "We are exempt from all the misery that plagues mortal men. You take yourself too seriously. You need a diversion. You need to learn to play a little. Besides we already know the way to heaven and hell and lived to tell about it."
"I was never good at play, Luke. I never saw the purpose in it," Omar said quietly and glanced about the big room that was literally swarming with faeries of every ilk and description.
"My point exactly. Now would be a good time to do something different. We're stuck here; we might as well make the most of it." Luke plucked a big, red apple from a wooden bowl on the table and took a loud, crunchy bite of it, sending out juice in every direction.
"I don't want to be stuck here again, Luke," Omar said miserably as he wiped the apple juice from his arm. "I want to go home!" He said a bit louder and held out both hands to his uncle imploringly. "I miss my wife and my son. There is no telling what Abyaz and the general are doing without us. Nor is there any way to know how long we've been gone. If they destroy our bodies, we may never be able to return to the life we built for ourselves."
"Then we'll build new ones. The Universe is infinite, Omar. The possibilities endless," Luke told him lightly as he eyed one of the Gwragedd Annwns who sat near the hearth, watching him intently. The beautiful blonde faery was the most nearly human of all the creatures in the room with the exception of the diminutive Bean Tighes and Brownies. Her eyes were violet and her long curls were almost white in color. She had colorful feathers and beads braided into the short curls around her face and her skin was milky white accented with a peachy blush. He wondered if this was the same one he had danced with on the roof of the castle the night before or if this was the one that Lemarik had taken a fancy to. He could not tell most of them apart. "Sylf?" He asked quietly and she turned her head away from his gaze. "Not Sylf," he mumbled to himself."
_


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Brendan I cannot decide which book I like the most so far each one hooks me like book one,two...all of them... great series, thanks for giving me a place to go!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Mark and Lucio have been friends for many years, almost as long as they have been each other's worst enemy. It's not that they don't like each other, it's just that they sometimes have mild disagreements about the finer points of what it means to be Warrior Monks in the service of Christ. Here's a small excerpt from _The Red Cross of Gold VIII:. The Silver Caduceus, Assassin Chronicles._

_The two Knights plunged into the cold water with a tremendous splash that sent spray up several feet into the air. The surface of the pool subsided quickly into a sparkling sea of miniature tsunamis and breakers as they sank to the bottom in a tangle of arms and legs.
Mark was at the surface first, treading water, slinging his hair and then swimming for the side. He pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the tiles cross-legged, looking down at the dark outline of his Brother, still lying at the bottom of the pool. A few seconds passed and then Lucio came up in a panic. He broke the surface of the water, already shouting hysterically and cursing in Italian very near Mark Andrew's feet.
The Knight of Death reached out and took hold of his curly black hair and pulled him to the side of the pool. Lucio held onto Mark's hands, sputtering and blinking back the water from his eyes, still cursing him from his ancestors to his great-great grandchildren. Mark let go of him and he sank again. Lucio was not a good swimmer and his condition plus the fact that he was fully clothed and wearing boots was too much for him to handle. A few moments later he came up much quieter than before, coughing and spitting and trying desperately to reach the side of the pool. Mark took hold of his hair again and pulled him to the side. This time he allowed him to get both arms up on the tiles. The Scot leaned close to his face before speaking to him.
"Brother!" he said in a low voice literally dripping with anger. "You will tell me why you were laughing at me or I will drown you as many times as it takes. Is that clear?"
"Si`, Fratello! Santa Maria!" Lucio nodded his head against his arms and spit out more water._


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In this cozy little scene, our two Brothers are having a pleasant exchange in Mark's library in Scotland. It seems that Lucio lost a bet or something and it's time to pay up...

_When Mark stopped beside him and stood quietly looking down at her face, Lucio raised his eyes slowly, starting at the tip of the golden sword which barely touched the rug, traveling up the wickedly sharp, braided blade until he focused on Mark Andrew's face. What he saw there made his blood run cold.
"You have come to kill me, Brother?" the Italian asked as he pushed himself up to face the Scot.
"Is that what you want?" Mark lowered his head slowly and looked up at him from under his eyebrows. "Or is that what you expect?"
"If that is the payment, I accept the terms," Lucio murmured and sank to his knees, baring the back of his neck to Mark, waiting for the deed to be accomplished.
Armand de Bleu, who had been under the desk, trying to reconnect the phone lines to the wall, stuck his head out to look at them. When he saw what he thought was about to be an execution, he let go a garbled shriek and withdrew under the desk, banging his head in the process with enough force to give him a concussion. Mark glanced at the desk and shook his head. Poor de Bleu. The young man had seen enough of death and dying for one day. It was good that the blow had knocked him senseless. He lay on the floor moaning softly.
He raised the sword above Lucio's neck with the point down. He would not kill him, but he would hurt him. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Vengeance is mine. Vengeance is divine&#8230;_


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Brendan Carroll said:


> In this cozy little scene, our two Brothers are having a pleasant exchange in Mark's library in Scotland. It seems that Lucio lost a bet or something and it's time to pay up...
> 
> _When Mark stopped beside him and stood quietly looking down at her face, Lucio raised his eyes slowly, starting at the tip of the golden sword which barely touched the rug, traveling up the wickedly sharp, braided blade until he focused on Mark Andrew's face. What he saw there made his blood run cold.
> "You have come to kill me, Brother?" the Italian asked as he pushed himself up to face the Scot.
> ...


brothers should not bet with each other...the loser usually ends being both...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Here is a small excerpt from the Red Cross of Gold II:. the King of Terrors. The Knight of the Wisdom of Solomon is having a bad day at the hands of his Brother, the Knight of the Golden Eagle.

_"You disgrace your title, sir. There is no wisdom in what you have done," he told him and brought the dagger down in one swift, debilitating move, piercing the man's leg between his ankle bones and the Achilles tendon.
"That should slow you down a bit." Lucio almost spat on the pitiful excuse for a Knight of the Council.
Champagne howled in pain and clutched his leg, rolling across the bed and finally onto the floor where the Knight caught him again by the collar and leaned close to his face. "Remember this, my friend. I do not do this out of revenge, but out of a need to undo what you have so foolishly done, which, by the way is a crime punishable by several years in prison, if I am not mistaken. It is not just a sin or a matter of breaking the Primitive Rule. You will be lucky if you get out of this country alive when Brother Ramsay learns what you have done and there is no court in Heaven or on earth that can protect you from his blade." 
Dambretti wiped his own blade on the quilt and walked to the door. Before leaving, he turned back to look at Hugh de Champagne once more. "By the way, Brother, don't forget to say your thirteen paternosters at matins. I will trust you to do so without my direct supervision."
Hugh let out a string of curse words in French and Lucio smiled at him before closing what was left of the door. He paused long to hang the do not disturb sign on the little hook in the middle of the splintered wood and then raced across the car park to where de Bleu stood next to the Hummer, waiting for him._


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

Brendan Carroll said:


> _"You disgrace your title, sir. There is no wisdom in what you have done," he told him and brought the dagger down in one swift, debilitating move, piercing the man's leg between his ankle bones and the Achilles tendon.
> "That should slow you down a bit." Lucio almost spat on the pitiful excuse for a Knight of the Council.
> _


Ouch! That's gotta hurt.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In The Red Cross of Gold XIII:. Children of the Temple, Sir Ramsay's Brothers have decided that Mark is a sorcerer and that he must die. Even though they intend to burn him, they generously want to hear his confession.

_"What do you propose to do now?" Simon asked the Knight of the Apocalypse.
"I want to hear his confession," von Hetz told him. "After that, you can give him the last rites and then we'll take his brother back to Italy with us. The Grand Master can decide what to do with Luke. I would also like to find the woman. We can leave her here in the dungeon. The monks will take care of her until we have decided what to do with her."
"You have already convicted him. You cannot mean to execute him! We do not have the authority!" Simon shook his head. Mark Andrew watched them, but said nothing. He was very pale and his eyes kept closing involuntarily. His body would shut down again and try to start healing itself now that the sword was removed.
"I saw what I saw. We cannot risk allowing him to regain his strength. I have seen this type of thing before in Jerusalem when wizards walked the earth more openly, Brother. If he is as powerful as I believe him to be, then he could easily draw on the powers of darkness to bend us to his will. We cannot allow him to reach Italy and the Grand Master. It would be disastrous now that we have found him out." The Ritter said stubbornly. "If you do not have the stomach for this, Brother, then you can wait downstairs. Luke Matthew might have something to say when he wakes up that would bear witnessing."
"I will not be a party to out and out murder, Brother!" Simon shouted at him. "I will stand against you in Council. Perhaps you should consider murdering me as well? And the woman? Why not kill her, too? And why bother to take Luke all the way to Italy? He'll hardly be willing to go quietly."
The Ritter ignored him and bent over the Knight of Death.
"Brother Ramsay, you are accused of witchcraft, heresy and blasphemy. These are capitol crimes. I would suggest that you pass your mystery to me and save yourself a great deal of trouble. Once you are dead, I can release your soul. Otherwise, you will have to wait until the Master comes here. It would be most advisable to cooperate."
"You will have nothing from me," Ramsay's voice was barely audible. "Let the Master see what you have done here. I have been to hell, Brother, and I am in no hurry to return there."
_


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

you are accused of witchcraft, heresy and blasphemy" I had no idea these things were crimes. *How* did that happen? My crews askeerdid!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Here's another example of brotherly love from my latest release: The Dead Confess No Sins wherein even the dead seem to have issues...

_"I am John Mark Andrew Larmenius Ramsay, Chevalier du Morte, Poor Knight of Solomon's Temple, King of Terrors, Prince of the Grace, Watcher of the Seventh Gate." He addressed them with as much vigor as he could muster as he continued to turn the horse in a tight circle. "Some of you I know personally and others I do not. I rode with some of you in battle and I saw some of you fall. Some of you, I helped along to meet death!" A murmur, not quite words went along the ranks of the mounted soldiers. Their horses moved about, jostling one another.
"How do we know you are who you say you are?!" A heavily accented voice boomed in the silence. "You do not look like a Knight of Christ to me!!" Several bursts of laughter accompanied this outburst. Certainly the owner of this objection was correct. 
Mark Andrew turned his horse to face the man who had cast this insult at him.
"I know you, Gerard d'Belleau! I saw you fall in a drunken brawl at an opium den in Aleppo! Over some dancing girl, was it? A harlot with a mole on her left cheek? Not her face, mind you! You were an arrogant ass then and I see you still carry your backside on your shoulders!"
Gerard's mouth fell open and another; louder guffaw erupted further down the circle.
Mark Andrew turned his horse again and glared at the laughing man. A large, red-haired fellow holding one of the banners.
"Oh and wot wud ye be laughin' at, Caleb MacDougall? I saw ye foll from yur horse onto a viper when ye wair runnin' away from battle! Dunna ye remembar 'ow ye begged me t' kill ye when th' poison set in?"
"And I dare say you obliged him?" Another, more educated, English accent questioned him from the opposite side of the circle.
Mark reined the horse about and galloped across the circle, pulling up short in front of a tall, slender Knight sitting astride a dark horse with a long broadsword clasped in his gloved hand. Gold flashed on his buckles and a pheasant's feather adorned his helmet. Decorations not approved by the Order's dress code.
"And I dare say that I did. Unlike you, I had mercy on my Brother! Did you never feel the least bit of remorse for helping send the Grand Master to the stake? How much did good King Philipe le Bel pay you to whisper in his ear the crimes of which we were accused, Brother?" Mark Andrew raised his chin slightly and the English Knight's face drained of color. 
No one knew of his treachery. The Templar's eyes widened in shock. No one. He let out a bellow and slid from his horse.
"I know you," Mark Andrew continued in a low voice full of contempt. "I know you well, but I will not sully my tongue with the sound of your cursed name. Have you learned nothing of humility? Have you learned nothing in all these years?"
"Come down off that horse! This is an abomination! I would not follow you into battle! You are a devil or worse!"_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Another example of Brotherly love gone astray from _The Red Cross of Gold XXI:. the Dead Confess No Sins_:

_Montague glared at the Knight of the Throne, looking him up and down in disgust. His long braids and ringlets seemed out of place on the shoulders of the mantle of the Templars. 
"These creatures are pagans," he told de Bleu. "If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas!"
De Bleu whipped his lance down and placed it directly under the Seneschal's chin. They stared at each other for several long seconds before Simon took hold of the weapon in his right hand.
"Brothers." Simon shook his head. "Now is not the time."
"He would do well not to call my people dogs." Armand did not move the tip of the lance.
William Montague did not flinch or budge, nor did he offer an apology.
"You would fall in with Dambretti and his harlot. These things may be acceptable in this land, but they are not acceptable in the eyes of God! And you have given up your oath as well. I am not unaware of the fact that you take one of these creatures to your bed every night. Is it the same one or do they all share your love nest?" Montague continued with his stinging insults.
Armand cursed the Seneschal in French, threw the lance on the ground and leaped bodily from his horse onto the Seneschal, taking him to the ground in a tangle of legs and arms. The Knights and apprentices fell back as their horses pranced about wildly at this disturbance. The two Knights separated and came at each other with their swords drawn. They squared off and the Grand Master rode between them. He was appalled. It was the second fight he'd had to quell in the past few hours. He lowered the baculus between them and the amber ball at the top of the staff glowed brightly, lighting the darkly gleaming eyes of the two Knights bent on killing each other._


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Montague should know by now that God has a sense of humor in regards to his Knights of the Red Cross of Gold...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In the opening novel of _the Assassin Chronicles, The Red Cross of Gold I:. the Knight of Death_, Sir Ramsay, the Assassin/Alchemist is in a bad predicament. He has lost his memory and doesn't know what he is or why he is where he is. When he breaks his vows to the Order of the Red Cross of Gold, which strictly forbids Templars to associate with women, by falling in love, he incurs the wrath of his fellow Knights and puts his own life in danger of Assassination. As his memories return bit by bit, his Brothers come after him one by one with the idea of taking his head home in a box.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Even though the Knight of the Golden Eagle has already married someone else and even though Meredith is still grieving for Mark Andrew's return, he still wants her to know that he still loves her, that she still loves him. Happy Valentine's Day! 
The Red Cross of Gold [URL=IX:]IX:. The Queen of the Abyss: Assassin Chronicles[/url]

_"Did you come up here to insult me, Brother?"
"No. I came to say hello and see how you were doing for myself," he told her and backed away as she began to tear about the room looking for the clothes she intended to wear. "I had thought you might come down to meet my beloved wife."
"I am coming down to meet Jasmine!" she snapped. "Surely you don't want me to come down like this?" She pulled out the hem of the smudged white blouse and looked at him incredulously from an equally smudged face.
"I'm sorry. You are always beautiful to me, Meredith. No matter what you are wearing or how filthy you are," he told her in all seriousness.
"Gee, thanks. Graci, Signor." She found the dress she was looking for and began to push him from the room. "Now go and see to your new bride before she finds you up here in my bedroom. Not wise, Golden Eagle. Not wise at all."
Lucio kicked the door shut behind him and took her in his arms, pulling her close, kissing her as if they were the newlyweds, even against all her protests until she stopped beating on him and returned the kiss sincerely.
"Merry," he said softly into her hair as he pressed her head against his shoulder and began to cry. "I know you miss Mark Andrew and so do I, but you have to come to grips with the fact that he may not return this time. I know he always came back before, but&#8230;"
"Lucio, stop&#8230;" Merry had managed not to cry in several weeks, but this was too much. Tears ran down her face and she became angry with him for causing it. "Please. Just go down stairs. I'll be fine. Just leave me alone a bit and tell Jasmine that I'm sorry I missed her arrival. OK?"
Lucio let go of her and then opened the door.
"There's one other thing, Sister." He looked back at her. "Jasmine is&#8230; not like you. Not like you at all. I hope you won't be too mad at me for marrying her."
"Mad at you?" She frowned at him. "Why should I be mad at you? I don't blame you for getting married again, Lucio. And if you think I'm jealous&#8230;"
"No, no. Not jealous. Just mad," he said and looked confused. "She's just... not like you. Not like you at all. I didn't mean to find someone so different. I mean I wanted to apologize to you for&#8230;"
"OK, OK," Merry nodded. "OK. So she's not like me. Fine. Rachel is not like me either. That's good. It wouldn't do for a bunch of me's to be wandering around in close proximity to me, now, would it?"
"I guess you have a point. I'll see you downstairs, Sister," he said, smiled again and pulled the door closed gently between them.
Merry burst into a flood of tears and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door with a resounding boom.
How could he have married this woman? An outsider. She knew he still loved her and she still loved him and even if they could never be together, at least they had Paris&#8230; She frowned at herself in the mirror and began to laugh hysterically._


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

And like a good neighbor...the Golden Eagle's still there...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

It's not that they actually hate each other, they just don't always agree on how things should be done. In book 2, The King of Terrors, Chevaliers Dambretti and Ramsay can't seem to agree on much of anything:

_"Would you like the same treatment as last night?" Lucio asked him coldly and closed his eyes, waiting for the blow he expected. Mark blinked rapidly, but did not hit him. "Calm down or I won't tell you a thing. I'll go by myself!" Lucio opened his eyes after a moment.
"Loike ye went aftar Merry?" Mark Andrew leaned toward him. "Ye cudna wait fur me t'come back, cud ye? Ye had to run off n' be th' grand hero?"
"Mark!" Merry grabbed his arm. "Lucio is trying to help us."
Mark Andrew drew a deep breath and held it. After a few seconds, he let go of the Italian and backed off. 
"He's olways tryin' t' help me!" Mark Andrew said and shook his head. "And why, I ask ye? Wot is your problem, Brother? Have ye not 'ad enough o' me by now? Won't ye go 'ome t' th' woman ye keep in Naples and leave moine t' me?"
"That is not a fair question, Brother." Lucio looked away from the man's eyes and then decided to prod the Knight's intellectual side. "You think too much of yourself, sir. You are not the victim here, Chevalier Ramsay. Stop acting like one."
"Victim?" Mark seemed to suddenly lose his anger. "I do not act like a victim!"
"Yes, you do," Lucio told him and it was the Italian's turn to be angry, though Merry could not tell if this was more affectation or real. "Always, you have everything going your way. You are always on a mission. You are always the wronged party. Always on the side of God. You came from a wealthy family. A noble family. You and your precious brother. Come to the Holy Lands for Honor and Glory! Fighting for what? The Order? The Christ? The money? The Church? What was it, Chevalier? And the fighting didn't get real until your brother was killed, did it? And then it got very real for you, no? Too real, no? You are always fighting for revenge," Dambretti switched to Italian and continued. 
Merry was awestruck by the vehement tone in his voice. She had never imagined that he had a temper. Never expected to see it or hear it. 
"You know nothing of love," Dambretti spoke rapidly in his native tongue. He advanced on Mark Andrew and stabbed at his chest with one accusing finger. "You know nothing of love, only violence. It is not love that you take from the unwilling. I will find the boy and I will return him to his mother for nothing other than honor and maybe just a little of love. Think of it, my Brother. One misplaced word and they will no longer know you! I will tell her about you. I will tell your son about his father. So help me, even if you kill me." _

Buy the King of Terrors for only $2.99 or if you haven't started the Assassin Chronicles series yet, buy Books I and II in one volume for only $3.99 and save money.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In Book XVIII, The Company of Women, Mark Ramsay's son and Omar, the Prophet are learning how to live with 'others' as part of their sojourn under Mark's tutelage in the underworld.

_Luke Andrew hurried down the stone stairway in the keep, chasing after the little brown man with the red hood. 
"Hey, come back here, Luff. You didn't answer my question," he called to the scurrying little creature. But the Brown Man also known as a Moor Man, a slight faery of the Brownie species, glanced back at him, scowling deeply. He wore, aptly enough, brown clothing that appeared more like withered foliage than cloth. A shock of deep, coppery colored hair protruded from under the hood and his bushy eyebrows made him appear much older than he probably was. The little fellow had a nasty disposition and Luke wondered who on earth had appointed him to be his personal valet. He never brought what he wanted and he snorted and complained loudly at almost everything Luke said or did. 
"I asked you to bring me a kilt." Luke scurried after him down the stairs. "I want to wear something different. I'm sick of this outfit. Can't we have anything around here?" Luke frowned at the Bean Tighes sweeping the steps and almost caused one of the elves carrying a huge silver candlestick up the stairs, to leap over the railing in alarm at the sudden disruption.
The Brown Man turned to face him at the foot of the stairs and put his hands on his hips, patting one red-booted foot impatiently. 
"Now, which o' th' clans wud ye want t' be representin', laddie?" Luff asked him sourly. "If ye've nevar woorn th' kilt, then 'ow ist, tell me, thot ye think ye'll be donnin' th' colors o' some proud Scottish fomily withoot th' sloightest thot t' th' men 'oo brot it out o' th' loom and onto th' battlefield?"
"What the hell did you just say?" Luke frowned and drew up short on the stairs.
"Air ye daft? D' ye nae speak English? I said which kilt&#8230; which clan?"
"I don't know." Luke looked about at the faeries lounging and working and singing and eating in the great hall. "Just bring me whattaver it was thot me father&#8230; I mean, my father wore back when he wore the thing."
Luff shook his head and his long beard waggled on his chest. He turned on his heel, grumbling to himself and stomped off toward the cellars.
Luke spied Omar sitting at the long trestle table eating from a bowl full of something that looked like mush with honey on it. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and sauntered over to sit by his nephew.
"Whatcha doin', Omar?" He asked as he bumped one of the strange looking things his father called a Ghillie Dhu, farther down the bench. They were very light creatures which seemed more plant than anything else. This one looked like it needed a pot to sit in rather than a bench and it was licking an odd looking crystal it held between two of its feathery fingers. "Excuse me," Luke muttered and cast a sidelong glance at the creature. It made a snuffling noise and turned liquid green eyes on him&#8230; four of them. 
"Eating oatmeal. What does it look like?" Omar grumped.
"Oooh. Snippy this morning, are we?" Luke raised both eyebrows.
"I am very frustrated with these creatures." Omar waved one hand about the grand hall. "They seem to know nothing of God and do not want to hear about Him."
"Your father said you could not proselytize these things." Luke chuckled and arrested a cup of wine from one of the Brownies passing by with a wooden tray full of food and drink. "They are not human. They don't have souls."
"And, if one must be human to have a soul, then you and I are doomed," Omar said miserably. "They are children of God the same as you and I."
"We aren't doomed, Nephew. I prefer to think of us as exempt," Luke told him. "We are exempt from all the misery that plagues mortal men. You take yourself too seriously. You need a diversion. You need to learn to play a little. Besides we already know the way to heaven and hell and lived to tell about it."_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In the 18th installment of the Assassin Chronicles, Mark Andrew finds himself holding court in the underworld. Such a gathering of faery creatures has not been seen in a while and a bit. Faeries do not usually stand on formality, but that doesn't mean they don't have rules. Below is an example of the Faery Version of Rogers' Rules of Order. Available for only $2.99 from Amazon for Kindle. Also available in paperback.

_
"Now fur general parposes," Seamus continued when the whooping and hollering died down "I wud lay down th' usual rules fur general assembly fur those o' ye 'oo moight 'ave furgotten and those o' ye 'oo may be 'ere fur th' furst toime."
He held up his short stumpy arms and begin to count off a rhythm much like the director of a band. The clurichauns sitting nearby and around him began to beat the rhythm on the table top with the hilts of their daggers. Seamus patted his foot and began to chant the rules of the assembly.
"Oye, Oye. Oll ye listen and ye will hear. Th' rules will be made known parfectly clear. Aftar th' initial greetin', this will be a quiet meetin'. Thair will be no shoutin', no poutin', no yellin', no buyin', nor sellin', no screamin', no 'owlin', no grumblin', no mumblin', no shufflin', no bumpin', no thumpin', no scratchin', no wigglin', no gigglin', no slurpin' or burpin' yur drinks. No singin', no dancin', no horses a' prancin', no moanin', no groanin', no wailin', no railin', no pushin' or shovin', no lovey yur dovin', no flirtin', no squirtin', no floyin', no croyin', no bangin' yur friends on thair binks. No clickin', no clackin'. No bricken, no bracken. No cussin' or cursin', no spoutin' off versen, no smokin', no stompin' yur feets, no gripin', no snipin', no snippin', no nippin', no gettin' out o' yur seats, no slappin', no yappin', no bitin' off mor'n ye can chew, no flittin', no spittin', no takin' off nor throwin' yur shoe. Now thot's aboot it, fur a whoile and a bit, thot's oll I can say, methinks. So just settle back, and park up yur ears and they'll fotch us a fresh round o' drinks."
The assembled faeries nodded and murmured their unanimous acceptance of these rules. Seamus signaled for silence and then turned to bow to the King again. Mark Andrew sat drinking from his Royal tankard with a peculiar look on his face, somewhere between shock and amusement._


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

I strongly suggest that everyone running for public office run by these rules...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Hey, that might work, Mr. Warrior! I think I'll try it: Brendan Carroll for President! OK, all we have to do now is sit back and wait for votes.
Meanwhile, in Book 18 The Company of Women of the Assassin Chronicles, Mark's peeps are keeping secrets from him. Where is Dambretti and what will happen when the Grand Master finds out? It won't be pretty! $2.99 at amazon.com and available in paperback, too.

_"You've been saying that for the past three days!" Mark Andrew snapped at Montague as they walked along the icy path between the house and the administration building. The sun was out, but the wind was too cold to allow the sun to melt the ice that had built up on the bricks. Their boots crunched in the sludgy mix of old ice and snow. "I need to speak with Brother Lucio about these latest developments in New Babylon. I think perhaps, he might need to make a short trip down there to see that everything is all right. I don't care what he's doing in Edinburgh. Tell him to get home&#8230; now."
"Yes, your Grace," Montague said quietly. He had desperately hoped that Lucio and Simon would have returned from the underworld by now, but he should have known better. They had been gone three days, but to them it was probably only a few hours at best. "I'll send word right away."
"Don't send word. Call him yourself." Mark stopped and frowned at his Seneschal. "Better yet, give me your phone and I'll call him."
Montague slapped his coat pockets with his gloved hands and then reached under the flaps to search about in his pants pockets.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I left it in my office," Montague lied. There was no number. His face flushed with embarrassment at having lied to the Grand Master.
"Well, then, get on it right away," Mark told him irritably.
"Yes, Sir." Montague turned and walked back toward the admin building.
"Whair air ye goin'?" Mark Andrew shouted after the retreating figure.
"To call Sir Dambretti." Montague turned back, frowning at him.
"Wot aboot th' meetin' with Sister Meredith?"
"Oh, well, I'm sorry, Sir&#8230;" Montague took a half-step, turned and then turned again. Unsure which way to go.
"Come on to th' meetin' and then call Dambretti," Mark Andrew told him. "She'll have my hide, if we miss anoother meetin'."
"Of course, Sir." 
Montague hurried to catch up with him. His breath hung in the cold air as he puffed along. At least Sister Meredith's meeting would delay the inevitable a bit longer and perhaps he could come up with another excuse for being unable to contact the Knight of the Golden Eagle. They found several people already gathered around the big table in the kitchen waiting on them, while Planxty served up cocoa and wassail and hot tea._


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Brendan when we first read the title a few of the crew wanted to look up your company and see if they could hire them to clean the ship...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Even though the Knights of Christ or Templars were strictly forbidden from having personal associations with women, even their relatives, the twists and turns of life and the Will of God cannot be denied or ignored. What would have happened if all the Knights of the Council had followed the Primitive Rule of Order and been good little monks? Well, the Assassin Chronicles would probably not have been nearly so interesting! Find out what happens when the Knights become entangled in the worldly woes of everyday life.

The Company of Women is Book 18 of the Assassin Chronicles. If you haven't started the series, be sure to start with Book one.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

According to the Primitive Rule of Order, the Templars are not supposed to fraternize or even look at women. But it seems that the entanglements with women have led the Order far, far from their original goals and into strange territory where even the bad guys are unsafe from even worse guys. Looks like the Prophet Omar's primary Advisor and military leader may have less than his best interests at heart. But even worse, is his General the Anti-Christ after all? _*The Company of Women Book 18 of the Assassin Chronicles*_.... $2.99 at Amazon. Also available at Smashwords and in paperback form. Here is a little excerpt. (Don't forget, if you haven't started the series, the first two books are on sale for the holidays in one volume for the price of one book.)

_"Mister&#8230; Sir Ramsay." The General leaned back in the chair and pushed his sunshades up on his head. "I am not a fool. You will pardon me if I don't believe you."
"Ye dunna need my pardon, sir. Did Omar, my grandson, send ye 'ere?"
"The Prophet has given me every liberty to try to locate his wife. Surely you have seen his pleas on the television regarding his wife and child? As you point out, sir, you are his grandfather, have you no sympathy for your own grandson?"
"I 'ave plenty o' sympathy fur me own grandson, sir. I wud ask ye whair 'e moight be? Why did 'e not come 'ere 'imself?"
"He is in mourning and is suffering from physical and mental stress. His physician advised him not to travel at this time."
"Oh?" Mark Andrew smiled and leaned both elbows on the table. "Since when does Omar Kadif 'ave need of a physician, sir? Surely 'e 'as told ye thot I 'old a Medical Degree from Oxford Univarsity? If me grandson wair t' be in need o' medical 'elp, I wud be more than glad t' minister t' 'im in thot regard."
A snort was heard from further along the table and Mark Andrew glanced at Barry of Sussex.
"No, he did not mention that, sir." The General returned his smile. "But to get back to the original question, you are telling me that you know nothing of the disappearance of Ruth Kadif and her son, nor have you any information in regard to the location of Lavon de Bleu?"
"Aye. Thot's aboot th' soize of it."
General Schweikert nodded and leaned forward to match the Grand Master's expression.
"The Prophet has obviously allowed you and your people to carry on your business with immunity because you are his grandfather. I have tried to convince him that this does not look good to the rest of the world regarding the I.I.P. Your stubborn refusal to accept the programming may lead some to think that something is amiss with the program which is designed to eradicate insurrection and terrorism, to ensure world peace and to reduce organized criminal activity. I have urged him to require you and your Order to conform to the program. Because of this most recent chain of events involving the uprising in Afghanistan and Kamchatka prior to that and the abduction of his wife, I believe that he will soon make known to you his desire for you to accept the I.I.P. for your organization in order to assure your own protection."
Mark Andrew actually laughed at this statstatement and was joined by several derisive snickers on his side of the table including a loud guffaw from Barry of Sussex and something muttered about the mark of the beast.
"I might tend to disagree with your motives for suggesting such a thing, General." Mark Andrew told him. His accent had vanished. "As you point out, our refusal might tend to point to something amiss with your program and I would infer by your words that you would include the Red Cross of Gold among your list of enemies of world peace. Are we to be categorized as terrorists, insurgents, dissidents or organized criminals? I put the question to you, sir, what, exactly, is it that we have done that frightens you? Have we broken any laws? Are we inciting the overthrow of the New Order of the Temple? Can you give me one good reason why we should allow your operatives to probe our minds? What are you looking for, General Schweikert? Why did you really come here?"
Mark Andrew frowned at the Foreign Minister who had said absolutely nothing. His presence here was an anomaly.
"All right then." The General reached into his jacket and pulled out a brown envelope. He took out a stack of glossy, 8X10 photographs and slid them across the table to the Grand Master.
Mark took the pictures and turned them around. His expression did not flicker as he recognized the subject of the pictures: his grandson, Jozsef. They were not very pretty. Apparently there were questions that Jozsef was not willing to answer under, any circumstances, and he was paying the price, wherever he was. Mark closed his eyes and silently thanked God that he had decided not to bring Meredith to this meeting, even though she had pitched a royal fit. This was nothing less than he had expected, but the pictures were nothing less than horrific. He felt the blood drain from his face as he slid the pictures to his right into the hands of William Montague. The Knight of Death raised his eyes to the face of the General and locked eyes with him. He wanted his Knights to see this. Montague made no sign of emotion as he looked through the stack and passed them along to de Bleu. Mark Andrew stared directly into Schweikert's eyes as the pictures made their way to the end of the table. When they reached Louis Champlain, Joszef Daniel's Master, the meeting almost fell apart. The Frankish Knight made a choking noise and stood up, knocking his chair backwards. The resounding crash brought Lucia from the sanctuary and de Bleu was up in a flash to head her off. He did not want her to see the pictures that Louis had scattered across the table in his rage. Barry and de Lyons caught Louis before he could crawl across the table and Konrad retrieved his chair while Simon gathered the pictures from the table. The healer sat down with the pictures and began to look at them as Barry and de Lyons forced Louis to sit down again. Simon went through the stack quickly and then slammed them down in front of Barry.
"Your Prophet is not well, sir." Simon told him angrily. "He appears to be in need of spiritual care."
"My Prophet is unavailable for medical attention." The General answered him calmly. "I often wonder about him. What do you suppose is wrong with my Prophet? These photos clearly show what seems to ailing your prophet. He seems to be suffering from a malady known as uncooperativeness. Perhaps we could exchange information regarding our respective Prophets."
_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

I've never really understood the so-called "War of the Sexes". There is no war. There was never even a battle. As my main protagonist, the Rt. Hon. Chev. Mark A. Ramsay can attest, there was never a question about it. The women always win. Anyone disputing this fact, is either dreaming or in denial.

Here's a little snippet from The Company of Women, Book 18 of the Red Cross of Gold Assassin Chronicles series (if you haven't started the series, begin at book one).

_Lucio had been listening to her intently until she said this last sentence and stopped suddenly.
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to one side.
"What did you just say?" He asked after a moment when she did not speak again.
"When did you get here?" She asked instead of answering him.
"I just flew in," he said. "What did you say? What was that last you said?"
"I didn't know you were coming." She stood up abruptly. "If you had let us know, I'm sure Louis would have wanted to Barbecue for you. He'll be happy to see you. Have you seen Simon? Does he know you are home?"
"Meredith?" Lucio stood up as well. "What are you talking about Mark Andrew is in the underworld? The Grand Master is lying in his bed with a lump on his head."
"Lucio&#8230;." Meredith backed away from him.
"Meredith." He advanced on her. "What has been going on here? I came back to see if things were alright. I didn't want to leave Jozsef there with just Anna to help him. Your grandson is in a very perilous position in New Babylon. What are you trying to hide from me?"
"Lucio. Luke will kill me if I tell you." Meredith turned around and pressed her hands to her forehead.
"I will kill you if you don't." He took her shoulders and turned her about.
"Don't say that!" She told him when she realized that he was losing some of the anger that had built up in him. 
He smiled crookedly at her. "Merry, la mia dolce. Puh-lease. How can I be of any use to you or your husband or this godforsaken Order if I don't know what is going on?" 
He was speaking very rapidly now, using his best old-world charm that had won her heart on numerous occasions in the past and usually caused her to regret something terribly. "My heart is broken. I have nothing but you and you are not even mine. Even Ruth has forsaken me and married the son of Satan. Have pity on your luckless Brother." _

It looks like something is truly amiss here.

Don't wait any longer to start the adventure. Either start or continue the adventure today.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

If you haven't started the Assassin Chronicles, now would be a great time to begin the series which will soon be culminating with Book 30.
Book 18 is one of my favorites. It has lots of action in the underworld with all my favorite characters: clurichauns, djinnis, Tuathans, Formorians and the usual crew. (And BTW, I had my sparkly warrior way before Twilight's vampires! LOL)

Here's a sample of Book 18:

_The Formorian blinked his one eye slowly as if he was trying to understand the words he was hearing.
Luke grinned at Omar. "See? No death ray. Just as I suspected. All bluff and show." He turned again and shook his sword at the monster. "Get thee gone back to the sea from whence thou came. This land is blighted by your nasty presence. This is your last chance. I, Prince Luke Andrew Ramsay, command you to go. Leave this land and return to your stinky home beneath the waves. And will somebody please&#8230;" He stood in his stirrups again and called to the Tuathans. "Please find this fellow a pair of jammies!"
"Luke, this is not funny," Omar told him while keeping one eye on the beast. "He's going to kill us within a few moments."
The beast rumbled forward and Luke's horse whinnied and reared on its hind legs, pawing the air. Balor stopped and then a terrible thing happened. It seemed that he was smiling and then a horrible noise thundered across the plain. It was laughing at them.
"You dare to insult the King of the Formorians?" The beast's voice was almost unbearable. Omar's horse tried to bolt and he reined it around in a tight circle. "You are the ugly one, little bird. Won't you fly away to the trees and build a nest? Lay an egg?"
Luke fought to control the frantic horse and turned him about to face the creature again.
"I grow weary of your blundering incompetence! Even your insults are as pitiful as your looks!" He shouted at the thing. "Come forward and feel the sting of my blade. I will cut you down like Frodo slew Smaug! Like David slew Golgotha! Like Samson slew Delilah!"
"Luke!!" Omar shouted at him louder than before and the brightly colored beserker turned bright blue eyes on him. "You've lost your mind. The thing will rip you to shreds! Us!! Rip us to shreds! Be reasonable!"
"What? This cowardly one? Look at him!" Luke shouted as the horse reared again. "He doesn't even wear knickers. Stinking beast! Nasty bastard! Were all your people so ugly? It is no wonder they cast you in the sea with the rest of the slime."
Balor reached out lazily with one long spikey arm and swiped the noisy upstart from the back of the horse. Luke struck the ground, rolled and came up with his sword held high. Shaken, but hardly daunted in his determination to make a showdown and be done with it. The red horse bolted back toward the keep. Omar rode in close to him and reached down one hand, offering him a boost up.
"Go with your sparkly friend, little one. Leave the battles to those who are stronger and wiser!" Balor rumbled contemptuously, blasting Luke with his fishy breath and then turned to address Omar. "Send out the wizard. It is Ramsay I would have, not this prattling fool of a son. I would spread his remains across the rocks for the vultures. And then rape his women!" With this last threat, he proceeded to model the tool for this impending doom in a terrible display.
Luke refused Omar's hand and stepped forward indignantly.
"Fight me, you putrid pile of fish bait! You can't even get that thing up to rape a jackass!!" He shouted. "Shake it at me again and I'll turn you into a woman for your trouble!" Luke turned around and raised his kilt, mooning the beast with his bare ass.
"Luke!" Omar shouted at him in despair. "Don't provoke him." 
Up on the battlements, amidst the shouting, laughing elves and faeries, Mark Andrew slapped his forehead with his hand as his mouth fell open in surprise at the foolhardy antics of his son.
"Oooh. Ahhh." Lemarik blinked slowly. "So it is true what they say about kilts. Most dangerous."_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

If you haven't started the Assassin Chronicles, now would be a great time to begin the series which has now culminated with the publication of Book 30.
Book 18 is one of my favorites. It has lots of action in the underworld with all my favorite characters: clurichauns, djinnis, Tuathans, Formorians and the usual crew. If you read night and day, you might be able to read them all before the monstrous


Spoiler



Sequester


 kicks in and kills us all! Ahhhhhggggg!!!!!


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