Monday, March 21, 2022

Character Confessions from The Frelsarien: Battle of Eirbor by Lynette Charrier #Fantasy


I’ve been here on the Planet Eyon for about a year now. There was a bit of a culture shock at
first, but the longer I’ve been here the more I’ve come to realize how similar our two worlds are, albeit at different points of time. I could have just as easily fallen through time and ended up in medieval Europe, which I guess makes sense since it was medieval Earthlings who colonized this planet. There are different animals here, different vegetation, and different landscapes; but the biggest reminder that I’m in a different world is the Artaic races, whom I encounter every single day.

There’s conflicting opinions on where the Artaic’s come from. The people who follow the Avatel Faith believe that the gods created them. The Frelgothlings on the other hand, believe that they were the natural inhabitants of this land. It doesn’t really matter where they come from, if you ask me. They deserve a place in this world alongside humans.

My First encounter with someone of the Artaic races was my handmaiden Osk. She is known as a Skjart. I was told that in the Tharian language it means Wolf-Human. The Avatals said that the gods combined a human with a wolf and made two separate species; Skjarts which took on more human 
characteristics, and the Skarajor which took on more wolf characteristics. I haven’t encountered the Skarajor yet, thank God. Apparently, they are beastly creatures that only live beyond the Symvian range.

The Skjarts on the other hand are so incredibly unique and fit in perfectly with human society. They are very tall compared to humans, especially the humans here who average about 5’5”. Female Skjartsaverage about 6 feet tall and the males about 6 and a half. That’s just average though… I’ve seen Skjarts well over seven feet tall. They have tall wolf-like ears, and sharp canine teeth on both the top and bottom. Their jaws, though very similar to humans, protrude slightly outward, slightly snout-like but not very noticeable at first. The proportion of their fingers in comparison to their hands is longer than that of a human, and their nails are hard and claw-like. Their skin either lacks pigmentation entirely, making them resemble human albinos; or they have very dark brown skin. The skin tones don’t mix well though, or at least not like humans. If a white human and a black human reproduce their offspring would likely be a blend of their parents' complexion. Skjarts on the other hand end up splotchy looking. 

Avatels believe they should not mix because the gods created them to be different. The Frelgothlings don''t care and will love whoever they want. This is the one thing I actually agree with the Frelgothlings on. Their spots are nothing to be ashamed of, if anything I think there's something incredibly unique and beautiful about their patterns. 


The other Artaic race on Eyon is the gnarts. They are basically the opposite of the Skjarts averaging about 5'3” for the men and 4'9” for the women. The word Gnart apparently means Fish-Human in Tharian. According to the Avatels the gods combined humans with fish. Like the Skjarts, this gave them two new species; Gnarts and Gnarajor. I haven't seen a Gnarajor before since they live in the ocean. Fishermen say they are quite a 
problem. Sometimes they call for help from the water just so that they can pull in anyone who comes to help. I don't know how true those tales are, but I think I'll stick to the land either way. The Gnarts on the other hand are incredibly sweet people and a blessing to society. They come in different shades of green, blue, and purple. Purple is the most rare, but the noble gnart families are predominantly this color, so even though they are less common, I've met more purple Gnarts than anything. They have distinct Fin-like ears. Under their jaws are three lines that I assume were gills at one point but have been closed up saying they are now land species. Their irises are nearly twice the size of humans and have an iridescence to them. Their hands are pretty similar to humans but they have slight webbing between their fingers, almost as if that is something that is also evolving to eventually go away.

Apparently, there's another breed of Artaic that we do not have in Tharon. They're called
Dokarts. Legends say that they were once humans but the gods combined them with lizards. I hate lizards… so I hope I never have to come across these things. If I'm lucky I'll never have to since they all live North of the Symvian Range. Apparently, they have brutal tempers and so the previous Frelsarien banished them. They made a series of tunnels in the mountains and have never been seen since.

The Frelsarien: Battle of Eirbor
The Frelsarien Chronicles 
Book One
Lynette Charrier 

Genre: Fantasy
Date of Publication: 3/13/2022
ISBN: Hardcover- 9798985598025
ISBN Paperback- 9798985598018
ISBN Ebook- 9798985598001
ASIN: B09Q5BPV5Y
Number of pages: 445
Word Count: 102K

Cover Artist: Covers By Christian

Tagline: Cursed bloodlines; Two warring nations; Three mortals trying desperately to return to their home world 

Book Description: 

One hundred years of peace have shattered, and the gods have sent the most unlikely of Heroes, mortals.

On the planet Eyon, one hundred years of peace has ended after the kingdom of Elmoria invaded the neighboring kingdom of Tharon. Desperate to regain their lands and citizens, the Tharians beseech the gods to deliver Frelsarien to them-mythical prophets who, in the past, have used the power of the gods to bring peace to the land.

Meanwhile on Earth, Idun, Ayla, and Colton have no idea their bloodlines carry a curse that enslaves them to the Overseers - supernatural beings whose divine rule stretches across the universe, earning them the status of godhood. After the Overseers come to collect them, the three humans learn that they must bring peace between two warring nations, or be damned to a life on this planet with no hope of returning home.

When the three Frelsarien arrive, the Tharians are disappointed to discover that the gods sent nothing but ordinary humans. Some give up hope that they will be of any help, while others cling to faith. The Frelsarien must either find a new way to prove their worth to the overseers, or attempt to develop the powers they were promised. In the face of adversity, will they be able to rise up to the challenge?

In a gripping page-turner, author Lynette Charrier pieces together an epic tale against a backdrop of tyranny, strength and resilience. Battle of Eirbor is the first novel in the Frelsarien series, a masterpiece of epic crossworld fantasy.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/sY8fe_d2hSc

Amazon      BN

Excerpt:

Idun’s eyes flickered open. She had been dreaming again.

A throbbing pain pounded within her skull. She groaned and rubbed the back of her head and felt a large welt. Her bruised fingers glided around to the right side of her head, where she found another welt. She sighed while slowly propping herself up and looking around. Her eyes were still hazy, but she could just barely make out the silhouette of a woman sitting across from her. Idun rubbed her eyes before reopening them.

“I doubt that will help,” the woman said, just as Idun came to that very conclusion. “You have a concussion.”

To her surprise, Idun recognized the voice.

“Ayla?”

The woman stood up and moved towards her, taking her seat on the bed next to Idun. There were two of her in Idun’s eyes, but she could still make out the features of her lifelong friend. She didn’t look like herself. Her long, curly, brown-black hair framed a smooth face, free of acne, and unhidden by glasses. But the most striking difference was her weight. The last time Idun saw her, she was skin and bones and likely less than one hundred pounds. The Ayla sitting in front of her looked… healthy.

“Jesus! How long have I been out?” She wondered if this was still part of the dream.

“Idun! Language,” she snapped.

Idun chuckled and put her head back down on the pillow. “Seriously, though, how long have I been out?”

“Almost twenty-four hours.”

A confused expression crossed Idun’s face, and she looked up from her pillow. “Can’t be. Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s no way you look like this after just twenty-four hours. And my hair doesn’t grow this fast either,” she said, holding up a lock of auburn hair which was now longer than the length of her arm.

“These are our Frelsarien bodies…” She said as if that were obvious. She waited a moment as if to see if this triggered a memory, but it didn’t. Idun had no idea what that meant. “So, you really haven’t been briefed on this?”

“What?” Idun picked her head off the pillow and looked up at the blur which was Ayla. “What are you talking about?”

“Where do you think we are?” Ayla questioned.

Idun looked around the room, which, from what she could tell, was made completely of stone and decorated in red. “I don’t know…”

Ayla sighed. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“The last thing I know for sure wasn’t a dream.” Idun had to think for a moment. “I climbed that cliff just outside of town.” She rubbed the back of her head again. “I must have hit my head when I fell, though. I had this weird hallucination about being chased by the grim reaper.”

Ayla stood up to pour Idun a glass of water, then walked back and placed it in her hand. “Idun… that wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t the grim reaper, though,” She said, with a laugh.

Idun brought the cup to her lips but stopped, giving Ayla a confused yet doubtful glance. She opened her mouth to ask her to elaborate, but Ayla beat her to it.

“It’s called the soul splitter. It separated our souls from our bodies on Earth and brought them to our bodies here on Eyon.” She waited for a moment to study Idun’s expression again; Which happened to be one of disbelief. “Does any of that ring a bell?”

“Not even a little one.” Idun tipped back her cup and then placed it down on the table. “I’m actually pretty sure I’m still asleep.”

Ayla reached over and pinched the skin on the underside of Idun’s arm.

“What the heck!” Idun propped herself up with a jolt.

“Well, you’re not asleep,” Ayla giggled.

Idun scrunched her eyebrows together and massaged the back of her arm. “And you’re not Ayla...”

 


About the Author:
 
Lynette Charrier was born in Manitoba Canada but grew up in Southern California. There she met her husband who whisked her away back to his hometown of Naples Florida. Not long after she earned her degree in interior design and quickly found a job in the field. However her true passion lies with the writing community. Ever since she was little she had been making up stories of distant worlds and far off galaxies. Now she's excited to finally share those stories with the world.










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