NDblogging

It's a muggy and rainy day here in Auckland. Phew!

I was scrolling through my emails today, and found some posts from Terry Odell and Sharon Horton, some of my fellow Cerridwen Press authors. Apparently, CP is having a big sale at the moment.

I checked on my books, and sure enough, the paperback copies of Gilded Folly are less than the ebooks (only $3.50!). This is a scary - and funny - fantasy. Very suspenseful at times, too. I've posted 3 excerpts below.

I don't know how long this sale will last, so forgive me if it's run its course before you have a chance to get there.

Regards, and best wishes,

Norah/ND/Melody

Review

 

1 - "Fantastic imagery, suspenseful plot, tension to beat all tension, incites the reader to sit on the edge of the seat and read until the last letter, the last dot, until THE END. ND Hansen-Hill weaves a tale of the battle of good versus evil that seems so real the reader will look askance at his/her neighbor and wonder. ND does a great job balancing the story elements and creating a story worth reading. Unexpected statements are written and/or made throughout the whole story instilling humor and a bit of surprised delight. Great for the fantasy lover, the sci-fi lover, or even the romantic one. What can be more romantic than a woman being protected from an assassin? Loved this story!" Reviewer: Lucille PRobinson

http://tjbook-list.blogspot.com/search/label/Authors%3A%20H

Excerpts

It was no longer dark, but Dacey was beginning to wish it were. A subsonic hum vibrated her eardrums and her teeth, the resonance rising into audible range, where it shook her body.

Like a microwave. The cooked scenario entered her head, but she wouldn’t let herself think it. It was enough of a prod, though, to get her moving. Her unseen adversaries weren’t entirely stationary. She would like to believe that was more mechanical action, too, like the hum, but the sounds were far too restless—like a multitude of boots grinding and crunching on gravel.

Alive. No inanimate pistons or gears. Claws and teeth, restlessly gnawing away at rock...

Stop it! Dacey swore right then that no matter what, she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

She ran for the steps—for where she hoped they’d be. You fell down them—landed on your knees.

Get it right, Girl...last chance...

The light was so startling she tripped over her feet and went sprawling. It wasn’t coming from the walls or the ceiling. It was coming from her skin.

Her own body was brightening the room, like a white shirt under black light.

The sight was so shocking Dacey froze. All kinds of thoughts were running through her head. She was so caught up in confusion, that she almost missed the movement.

The walls were losing integrity, as man-size pieces detached and dropped limply to the stone floor. Rustle-thud, rustle-thunk. Now, the pieces shivered and shook, then arose, finding their whole within the fallen tangle of limbs. Skeletally thin beings, with a near-human cast...

...arising out of rock.

Dacey backed away, and headed once more for the steps—only to find they’d beat her there.

They’ve been in the dark so long...

It was almost as though she could read their thoughts. Her light was a lure, to draw them in. They wanted light...and heat.

...but mostly, they wanted food.

Dacey opened her mouth and began to scream.

AND

Humans! he thought, with a sigh. It had been a long time since he’d made any distinction between himself and these others he called friend. Today, it seemed, he was destined to call attention to it, if he were to be of any help to Rom...or the woman.

At that moment, in the middle of Wick’s dire reflections, Fitz sat down in a chair, his eyes drooping. Wick held off maybe ten seconds, then slipped one foot out of bed, his toes touching the cold floor.

Fitz didn’t stir. Hopeful now, Wick passed a shaking hand over the top of the monitor, effectively silencing it. He was grinning triumphantly at his own success when he twisted his head, and met Fitz’ eyes.

Uh-oh...

Humans could be truly intimidating at times...

Fitz was so angry his face was set, in a way Wick had never seen before. It would appear that however determined Wick was to leave, Fitz was equally determined to keep him here.

Plikva!

When Fitz turned his back, to fiddle with the machine in a furious, frustrated, what-the-hell-did-you-do-to-it, I-refuse-to-look-at-you way, Wick decided it was time to make amends. He was undervaluing Fitz’ efforts—something he’d never intended.

I’m destined to cause trouble wherever I go...

Regretful now, Wick reached past Fitz and snapped his fingers. The monitor took up where it had left off.

Wick, for his part, was exhausted by the small effort. Shivering, he leaned back on the pillows, desperate to retain any dignity he had left.

Fitz was still refusing to look at him. He was watching the monitor angrily, adjusting it with stiff fingers, and ignoring Wick completely. It wasn’t until he noticed something in the readings, though, which alarmed him, that he hastily turned back, and grabbed a glass by the bed. “Drink,” he ordered sternly.

Vinegar water!

Wick was too weak to argue. He drank deeply, unable to control a shudder which started somewhere in his centre. “Th-Thank you, F-Fitz,” he whispered. “F-For everything.”

Fitz continued to watch both him and the monitors. “You’re a damn fool, Wick,” he grumbled, a note of concern in his voice that Wick was certain he must have misheard.

This human friend was more right than he knew. As Wick’s eyes drooped closed, he murmured mockingly, “Both a fool, and damned. There was never such a kavlklakt as I...”

AND

The idea sent a shudder down his spine.

A lone bat strayed through the low branches and Wick jumped. Any movement was suspect. Had something chased the bat from its perch? He squatted down, his back pressed against the coarse bark of a Monterey pine. The solidity of it gave him an illusion of safety. The night remained still, as though holding its breath.

Sucking in the sound and holding it hostage...

It was like a black hole in his surroundings: sucking in sound, and light, and life.

When the night quickened once more, and the insect chorus returned to clicked and chirped mating signals, Wick moved on, nesting his feet in the thick needle beds so he wouldn’t accidentally tread upon a branch.

He never saw It come. It was camouflaged in the nightsound clutter, which took him by surprise. The night suddenly darkened, and the stars were blotted out.

He was slammed back, against a tree. Slammed and pounded to centre the blood beneath the skin. Wick kicked and punched and pounded back, but he was blinded by smoke. It rose around him, while bony fingers raked at his clothes. His eyes ran, his lungs screamed, and a howl was choked off in his throat.

He was falling now, dimly aware of pine needles jabbing his skin. Awareness faded quickly, displaced by the lassitude which was filling him. He knew he should fight the feeling; knew what it signified, but all he wanted to do was sleep.

It was the Hambre Muerte, the Death Gorge.

No!

Tradition demanded he lie here and die now, grateful for the mercy of last-moment oblivion. It was the way these things were done...

No! Not here! Wick’s fingers were already growing numb. He gritted his teeth, forcing the digits to close on a pointed branch. Then he jabbed it, into the bony head. There was a satisfying crunch and thud.

The Mictlampa ripped back, with an audible slurp, its jagged teeth torn away from Wick’s muscle. Its moment was past, and instead of a wily predator, it was confused and disoriented—flailing and blind.

Tastes of a leech, and eating habits to match...

Wick lay there limply, worried about the demon’s reputation for persistence, and worrying more about its companions. Was it alone?

He recalled another sorry fact from his past. Micts never travel alone...

He wriggled his fingers, clenched his fists, bent his toes, and jiggled his limbs—determined to lose the lassitude. The blood scent would bring the others in.

No way! He crunched the bloodsucker with his foot, right in the face. The creature flopped back, writhing in agony, all the while making a low-pitched grunting sound.

Wick pushed himself up to a sitting position, grabbed another branch, and whopped the thing again.

The beast was knocked back, onto the pine needle carpet. Silent now, it did what tradition claimed: melted away, into the undergrowth. At least, Wick was sure that was what it had intended. Its actual disappearance looked a lot more like a wobbling retreat.

Wick sat there, in bloodied triumph, listening to the crunch and thud as it ran into branches, shrubs, trees. He wondered if, ten years ago, he would’ve had the balls to offer a challenge.

Too indoctrinated.

He savoured his victory a few minutes longer. That’s what he told himself, anyway, but himself knew he was actually waiting for his heart to stop that erratic flopping in his chest. He leaned back, impatient, but unwilling to risk his life on a quick escape.

If I pass out here, I’ll never get up again...

When the stars reappeared in the sky, he tugged himself up the rest of the way, using the trunk for support. Cursing and swearing, he staggered back the way he’d come.

http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-3140-223-gilded-folly.aspx
 

 

News & Networking

It's been a busy week as usual. Of Dragons was released by Red Rose last Thursday, and it's been full on ever since. I have to admit I've learned a fair bit about promotion this week, and networking with other authors and author sites. Some of the romance sites, like Simply Romance , are extremely generous with both their time and their space. I finished the first round of edits on Gray Beginnings, and will be hastily contriving a suitable blurb. The edits for GlassWorks should be in the Inbox shortly, too. In a few minutes I'll be posting on Tales of the Trade. My blog post is due there today.

WIP & Other Things: Only a thousand words added this week to my "Nocturne Bites" effort, but I did submit a blurb for Art & Soul to the open call at Nocturne. This is a quick in effort, with decisions being made by April 16th. I love these mini subs and competitions because they spur me on either to try new genres or venues or to finish what I began months ago. The Nocturne "call" only lasts until the 8th, I believe, so it's time for a quick decision if you're a paranormal pennist.

A new, and quite exciting, Yahoo loop opened this week called "Paranormal Monday". Enthusiasm by authors, with excerpts being greeted enthusiastically by readers.

Oh, wrote an interesting poem this week entitled, "Fragile". I'm in the finals for the Poetry.com Editors' Choice competition, and to qualify, I needed another poem. It was the second poem for the week?the first being the one for Gray Beginnings. I was waxing poetic all over the place, LOL!

Authors of Note: Today's Author of Note/Publishing-Promotional Guru of Note is Jean Lauzier. Here's the info for Honor Due, from author D. H. Brown.  D. H.'s website is www.dhbrownbooks.com, and Jean is giving away away the rest of chapter one to anyone who requests it. 

 

The excerpt, of course:

 

Chapter 1

 

2230 hours ? Saturday

 

It was a typical Saturday night at the Spring Tavern. Lots of locals playing pool, dancing to the jukebox, smoking and drinking beer. Jimmy poured a lot of it on weekends, and little during the week. Men who use axes and chainsaws don't do much drinking on work nights. Most of them start in the woods before 0400, so early to bed is the norm.

    Except for a knot of local Indians at one of the pool tables, it was a pretty white crowd. There were four fresh Coasties from the Coast Guard station up at Neah Bay, and other than that, I knew or had seen everyone else before. That's why the little wannabe shark slipping into my small pool stood out. When the door swung open and the kid sidled through, I knew I was going to have to kill him. How did I know? Why? Instinct and almost forty years experience. The why? He might look like a minnow now, but little fish grow up fast and are harder to swallow when they're full grown and think they're Great Whites.

    This was my isolated pond he'd swum into and I didn't intend to become the main course at anyone's table. Since I'm a carnivore, I tend to eat first and ask questions later. I may not have a high school diploma, but I've earned several doctorates in the killing arts. I prefer to be the predator than the prey.

    The kid was around twenty-five, six feet plus a bit, and maybe a slim 180, in a worked-out kind of way. His dark hair hadn't grown out enough to hide what had been a military buzz. He wore a supple, thigh-length black leather coat, unbuttoned, and by the way it was cut, I figured he was packing. Probably a large auto-loader of some type with a suppressor in a custom rig in the left armpit. He didn't look exactly comfortable wearing civvies.

    The way he moved told me this was someone who didn't feel threatened, and thought he could eat anyone in this puddle. I've been around somewhat longer and knew there were several in this crowd I wouldn't want to tangle with, on my best day. Guys who work with axes and chainsaws in the deep woods are very tough nuts, and will break your teeth if you bite on 'em wrong.

    I watched the kid's eyes travel slowly around the room and pass me by without a flicker of recognition. There was no reason he should know me on sight, although for him to be here, I knew an advance team had swept the area and put together a package on the lay of the land. That's the way it worked, so now I had to figure out if he was solo, or had backup out in the dark.

    He was giving off a nervous kind of energy. Not fear. Just a twitchiness. The way he put money on the bar and kept kind of shrugging his shoulders. Frustrated would be one way of putting it. Maybe a bit worried. I wondered what might cause a reaction like that from someone who probably wouldn't duck when the lead was flying. Interesting.

    I watched Jimmy behind the bar, wiping glasses. He wasn't acting any different. He was, however, two feet closer to the register than where the glasses were racked. That meant he was standing directly in front of the Government model .45 Auto he kept cocked and locked under the bar. Jimmy, I'd learned, knew when trouble walked into his place of business.

 

BUY LINK  

Teasers (interesting facts that might stir a story some day soon): Those shiny and reflective fish which so draw our eyes, and frequently take a starring role in our aquariums? A new study has determined that the unique shape of the skin's guanine crystals is what provides that intense reflectivity. This is an anti-predator camouflage response, for fish which swim near the water's surface. There's no point denying that these are flashy fish! I went to the zoo last weekend, and in the penguin enclosure, where wee penguins were swooping after their food, it was the food?flashy fish?which kept catching my eye! It should have been birds that fly underwater, instead! For more information, visit http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/01/080114100008.htm.  

Save Your World: Free rice (learn new words and donate rice as you do it! Always a favorite!) http://www.freerice.com/index.php

Excerpts: From Gilded Folly

                It was no longer dark, but Dacey was beginning to wish it were. A subsonic hum vibrated her eardrums and her teeth, the resonance rising into audible range, where it shook her body.

                Like a microwave. The cooked scenario entered her head, but she wouldn?t let herself think it. It was enough of a prod, though, to get her moving. Her unseen adversaries weren?t entirely stationary. She would like to believe that was more mechanical action, too, like the hum, but the sounds were far too restless"like a multitude of boots grinding and crunching on gravel.

                Alive. No inanimate pistons or gears. Claws and teeth, restlessly gnawing away at rock...

                Stop it! Dacey swore right then that no matter what, she wouldn?t give up without a fight.

                She ran for the steps"for where she hoped they?d be. You fell down them"landed on your knees.

                Get it right, Girl...last chance...

                The light was so startling she tripped over her feet and went sprawling. It wasn?t coming from the walls or the ceiling. It was coming from her skin.

                Her own body was brightening the room, like a white shirt under black light.

                The sight was so shocking Dacey froze. All kinds of thoughts were running through her head. She was so caught up in confusion, that she almost missed the movement.

                The walls were losing integrity, as man-size pieces detached and dropped limply to the stone floor. Rustle-thud, rustle-thunk. Now, the pieces shivered and shook, then arose, finding their whole within the fallen tangle of limbs. Skeletally thin beings, with a near-human cast...

                ...arising out of rock.

                Dacey backed away, and headed once more for the steps"only to find they?d beat her there.

                They?ve been in the dark so long...

                It was almost as though she could read their thoughts. Her light was a lure, to draw them in. They wanted light...and heat.

                ...but mostly, they wanted food.

                Dacey opened her mouth and began to scream.

 

www.NDHansen-Hill.com
www.MelodyKnight.com
www.myspace.com/ndmanuscripts
www.lulu.com/ndhansen-hill
Thanks to www.mikesfreegifs.com and www.wilsoninfo.com for the use of the animated gifs!

AUTHOR: Melody Knight
GENRE: Mainstream Romance Sci-Fi/Fantasy
PUBLISHER: Red Rose Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-60435-077-7
RATING: Explicit sexual content

BLURB: Ryon Colley can't understand what's happening to his life. This morning he was a policeman investigating a potential hazard: a sparking, flashing, rainbow-spitting light show in the sky overhead. The source of the odd light appeared to be an unruly-haired blonde hellion, who couldn't figure out what normal was. Her radiant display scared him, but his physical reaction to it scares him more. By lunchtime he's gone from having coarse brown hair, to sporting a head full of blond locks—and from facing felons, to fending off thousands of voracious dragonflies.
            Glynt has been sent to Earth to guard the dimensional gateways, but her arrival spawns nothing but trouble. Quite accidentally, she's summoned swarms of dragonflies, and lured in captors determined to return her—clearly a mischief maker—to her own world. Only Ryon—her gilded hero and the object of her newfound dreams—can rescue her from certain death.

BOOK LINK: http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=83&products_id=144

AUTHOR WEBSITES: N. D. Hansen-Hill | Melody Knight

EXCERPT:She was nearly dressed when she heard them. The vibration rattled the shiny Christmas ornaments on her dressing table, making the glass ping harshly against the table top.
No! Her fingers clasped the adamantine dragonfly encircling her neck, as terror quickened her heartbeat. Chills raced down her limbs in spiky little arrays. That sound—that horrifying, buzzing thunder—was one she recognized, deep inside. The fear of them—and their appetites—had been bred into her through a hundred generations.
Glynt ran. Panicked, she fled the bedroom with its flimsy-looking glass and raced for the balcony doors. They were thick fire doors—surely, they could resist the impact?Ten thousand dragonfly wings…The daylight went. The thickness of the horde—the sheer mass—was blotting out the sun. Desperate, near-petrified, she yanked the curtains closed. The ramming slam of ten thousand exoskeletonned bodies splintered the glass, but it didn’t stop the beating—that horrific, mechanical swish of their wings. They were driving themselves at the doors, at the glass, frenzied. Day sounds were lost in the ceaseless roar of overlying wing beats. In the bedroom, the glass imploded. Shatters of refracted light caught her eye, as they showered the door jamb.As they blasted through, onto the carpet.I didn’t close the door.Her eyes widened in horror, and she raced for the exit. She was nearly to the front door when it began vibrating. They were in the hall, in hunting mode, and desperate to get to her. Hide.Where?! Frantic, she ran back to the curtained windows, in hopes of fooling Them. She was out of her element, and hidey holes were nowhere to be found. She cowered down, wrapped herself in curtain fabric, and scrunched into her smallest form. Already, she knew it wouldn’t help—couldn’t help. They were lured. Starving. Driven. Those multifaceted eyes would find her.Ever hungry, they’d hunt her…on the wing.

On today's agenda:

Add a bit to my Lotus Circle WIP
Begin a new Nocturne Bites
Add a bit to Hunter
Review edits
Perhaps a bit of editing???

Yikes!

Oh, BTW, ErRatic releases this week.

Cheers,
ND
http://www.NDHansen-Hill.com
http://MelodyKnight.com
http://www.myspace.com/ndmanuscripts
Hunter http://www.protagonize.com (under action/adventure)
Nocturne Bites http://community.eharlequin.com/forums/write-stuff/guidelines-new-nocturne-bites
The Lotus Circle http://www.thelotuscircle.com

News & Networking
If you're seeking an agent, pop over to BookEnds this week, and pop in 100 words in the appropriate category. You never know what will transpire.

Other things: My short story, Cut & Polish, came out early from All Romance eBooks! Oh, and I finished the second round of edits for The Hollowing last week and now have an April 17th release day. Joy!!!

Teasers (interesting facts that might stir a story some day soon): From Rapunzel's hair to eliminating sound waves, this article discusses how many of the magical aspects of fairy tales may actually be true. Carpets can be carried aloft by vibrations, and steered via pulse beats. For fantasy writers like me, who like to base their stories on facts, this really supplies a fascinating jumping off point. To read more, visit http://www.livescience.com/strangenews/080211-fairytales-science.html

Save Your World: Disaster Relief Volunteer Match (need a hands-on solution to disaster? find one close to home here) http://www.volunteermatch.org/opportunities/disaster_relief.jsp

Excerpts: From In Flames, the sequel to In Trysts, a Romantic Suspense novel published by Linden Bay Romance

Sophie lost him in the smoke and steam. She screamed, choked on soot and swallowed water—then it was all gagging, paddling, churning her way through the wash. The surge was relentless, all troughs and waves, floating wood and falling stone. She was slammed against the wall and felt her shoulder give. Sophie shrieked and fought for air. “Marco!”He had her. Marco grabbed her, and clung. She held onto him weakly, and opened her eyes to find he was smiling.A death’s head grin. It was Gerald Beaumont. “Sophie!” he cried, clawing at her head, her shoulders, climbing her like a bobbing tree. She was going under, down, when Marco snatched her out of Gerald’s grasp and flung him aside.But Marco’s hold on her was tenuous, and Beaumont’s frantic antics cost him. Scratch, tear, rip, fling, but in the wildly swirling muddle, of dirt and bone, ash and wood, filthy foam and churning backwash, Sophie was jarred loose from Marco’s grasp once more, out of his reach. He heard her choked off “Marc-!” as she vanished beneath the rising waters. Cheers,
ND - Melody
http://www.NDHansen-Hill.com
http://MelodyKnight.com
http://www.myspace.com/ndmanuscripts

 

Your Holiday Gift - Download a Free Copy of my Full-Sized Novel Vision from Fictionwise!
Happy Holidays from N. D.

Hansen-Hill, the Author of:

Fantasy
The Trees Series
Trees
Crystals
Mud
Shades
Fire
Light
The Elf Chronicles
Elf
Trolls
Kaituku

Gilded

Folly

Science Fiction (SF)
The Light Play Trilogy
Light Play
Light Plays
Lightning Play

a>
BloodWorks
Relic
ErRatic
BoneSong

Horror
The Grave Images Series

Grave

Images
Graven Image
Grave Imagery
Grave Image

Vision

The Hollowing

Romance (writing as Melody Knight)
Romantic Suspense
In

Trysts
In

Flames

Romantic Fantasy
Of Dragons

SF Romance
GlassWorks

Paranormal Romance
Art & Soul

Novella (writing as Melody

Knight)
Erotic
Artifact
Emerald City

GlassWorks, my 28th or 29th novel (not really sure which, LOL!) has now been contracted to Red Rose. I'm really happy about this. RRP has a really good reputation among authors.

I'm beginning the 30-day countdown for In Flames. Linden Bay Romance is releasing it on January 1st. What a way to start the year!

In Flames is the sequel to In Trysts, which was my first romance, released last year. Both novels are romantic suspense. I don't seem to be able to write anything without an element of horror/thriller to it. One of my WIPs (Works In Progress) is a comedy/horror/romance. I can't even write comedy without horror!

I'll leave you with an excerpt from In Trysts.
Peri’s mind went blank with terror when she saw that cigarette. This wasn’t some stranger she’d researched, for whom she’d invented a destiny—this was someone real. A greedy someone who could kill as easily as smoke. Who was devious enough to hide a victim within a dead woman’s shroud.It’s real. Peri wanted to throw up.When the headlights hit the headland, the panic percolating in her veins exploded. Her panic fed her as she shimmied down the rope, and chased Sophie down the slope. The two of them tumbled all over each other in their frenzy, and Sophie had to drive, because Peri...simply...couldn’t. Her life wasn’t conjecture any more. It was real.

And confrontation? Not even on the list.

From In Trysts, published by Linden Bay Romance

Cheers,
ND | Melody
http://www.NDHansen-Hill.com
http://MelodyKnight.com
http://www.myspace.com/ndmanuscripts
In Trysts (ebook or paperback)
http://www.lindenbayromance.com/product_details.php?product_id=108
In Flames 
http://www.lindenbayromance.com/comming_details.php?id=99
Red Rose Publishing
http://www.redrosepublishing.net
Linden Bay Romance
http://www.lindenbayromance.com

Hi, All!

I'm really trying hard to get to the halfway point (25,000 words) of a YA novel I'm attempting for a competition that Random is sponsoring. I'm having great fun, but I'm not sure it's really much different from my adult stuff, except perhaps my characters don't mull over their decisions as much. I've having great fun with the action adventure aspect - haven't worked on one of those for a while.

Gray Beginnings has gone to Cerridwen Press, and will be published sometime next year, along with The Hollowing. That gives me 3 with them, which I like to think of as my minimum with any one publisher. That means I owe Linden Bay Romance one more book, and Five Star two, but I'm working on it.

I'm going to try to have Art & Soul seriously considered by one of the romance giants. I'm not sure how well I do in the romance field, though I generally pull 4 to 5 star reviews. Cross your fingers. I'll be sending it off tomorrow or Monday.

I want BoneSong out next week as well, but that's a major rewrite. Writes and rewrites at the moment. I have an erotic short I want to force out by the end of September, too. Yikes!

Back to chocolate ice cream for breakfast and work, work, work!

Cheers, and best wishes,
ND | MelodyPS BTW, if you want to see ErRatic's new cover, check out Myspace

The Hollowing has just been accepted by one of my publishers. I won't announce which one yet, till the contract is safely in their hands once more, but it's easy to guess - they're the same onew who are publishing Gilded Folly.
I finished Of Dragons, and am now working on Glass Works. In Flames is under consideration, as are BloodWorks and Relic. I need to begin thinking about publishers for Of Dragons, BoneSong and Gray Beginnings. I've been thinking about sending Gray Beginnings to the same publisher who's just contracted The Hollowing, and I also want to send Light Play there as it becomes available.
In Trysts is going to be available in paperback soon, as will Gilded Folly. Very exciting!

Went on an archaeology field trip to a dormant volcano yesterday to map a kumara storage pit - great stuff!

I'll leave you with an excerpt - from Crystals:

They were moving deep into the caverns. The air tasted of damp, and to Trevor, the smell was distastefully reminiscent of the mouldy scent his dirty laundry emitted after a week in his laundry basket. Strong and malodorous, it was made particularly noticeable because Trevor wasn’t able to see. The darkness was intense, and he was relying on the sounds, and his sensitivity to the others, to find his way. He just hoped Gyris was as sure-footed as he sounded, and that holes were not part of the terrain. 
  He first noticed it as a dimming of the intense darkness, a trace of less-than-black, and wondered if he was imagining it. Soon, though, a bluish cast became more apparent, and he could detect stars—stars and squiggles decorating the high ceiling of the cave; each a small effort to push back the black void. To Trev, the effect resembled a soft blue rendition of his home world’s Milky Way—sharing the same lack of definition, but undoubtedly lighting up the distal spaces. Trevor wondered at the source—whether these emanations were from living creatures, or rocks with special phosphorescent qualities. 
   Trevor appreciated the beauty of the scene, but his eyes demanded more clarity. It was the same feeling of frustration he often had when trying to view the Milky Way—his eyes wanted to bring it into better focus; to lessen the vagueness that distance wrought. His next action was almost instinctive; a product of the dark, frustration, insecurity in their mission, and for want of something to channel his nervous energy. He summoned a part of his being that had shown itself to have some control over animals in his own world, and placed his energy into what was now a recognisable thought pattern—a particular emotional stance. He loosed it on the small entities in the cave, if entities, indeed, they were. The result was almost instantaneous, and—to Trevor’s mind—gratifying. The blue lights flared, intensity and numbers both increasing multifold as others of their kind who had been quiescently dark flared to life.    The small group halted, and the cave was bright enough for Trevor to see the others now. Thyme shot a quick question at Gyris, who grunted and indicated his head in Trevor’s direction. Thyme remarked, “Playing with lights again, Bonehead?”
   “Just tinkering.” It was Trevor’s turn to sound smug.   “Just don’t forget how you did it, Sieve Brain. This is one of your rare talents that may be considered useful.”
   The repetitious moist dripping was its own form of water torture. Trevor was actually pleased when the sound of moving water was lost in a cadence of chanting: rumbling, monotonous, repetitious. The texture of the rock beneath their feet also changed, becoming firm, smooth, and less fragmented, which led Trevor to suspect that the former roughness owed more to years of mining, rather than to any natural formation.
    A dull glow broke the darkness ahead, and Trevor released his hold on the blue ceiling dwellers. Gyris’ steps were quiet now, aided as much by the terrain as by any conscious effort, and the human was glad to get his first glimpse of the Valners while their attention was focused elsewhere.
 Entering a massive cavern, domed with enormous gypsum-like crystals that emitted subdued light, Trevor was astounded at the size of the famed Valners.  He’d somehow thought of them as small miners—hardy, perhaps stunted by years of subterranean living; tiny enough to take advantage of narrow shafts in the rock. This was not the case. None of the Valners present at this ceremony—for such it obviously was—was less than two metres in height, and many of them topped three. Save for the dense fur on their feet, which Trevor guessed was important to their ramblings through the sharply pointed stones that littered their workspace, the Valners were hairless, with milky white skin. Albinos, the human thought. Save for the eyes. Valner eyes were enormous, saucer-like, and dark as an unlit cavern.    Valner bodies were strange to Trevor’s eyes. True, they had legs, and feet, but they also boasted appendages that would put human limbs to shame in a challenge of dexterity and strength. Like humans, a single “arm” sprouted from each side of their tall forms, but their flexibility more closely resembled that of an octopus or squid. The long, unjointed appendages writhed and coiled; constantly in motion, even as the Valners concentrated on this important religious ceremony. The three fingers at the tips of these arms were arranged triangularly, and Trevor’s eyes were drawn to the way the ceremonial leader used these fingers to manipulate a spiny opalescent crystal, that was apparently at the core of this ritual.
    Trevor was surprised that the Valners seemed unaware of their presence. True, for once his own small group was making an effort at discretion, but the Valners didn’t even glance in their direction. Surely, if they can heal, they must be capable of enough sensitivity to recognise we’re here, Trevor thought.
   Thyme, seeing his curious expression, explained it to him. “This is one of their most important religious ceremonies,” he said. “‘The Cleaving of the Crystal’, in which they fragment that rock into smaller, more easily usable, parts.”   Trevor looked at the dainty narrowed spike that the religious leader was moving with great precision, making signs that must have special meaning to the people watching. “He’s going to break that big hunk of rock with that small spike?”
   “Not break—cleave. Crystals will generally maintain the same form, if they are pure. He’s merely cleaving it into similar, but smaller, components.”   Trevor nodded in understanding. “A similar thing happens in our world. Diamonds are one of the hardest substances, yet they can be ‘cut’ for rings by taking advantage of the crystalline faces.” He smiled, thinking of the money some people paid for, and the way they hoarded, diamond jewellery. “Diamonds have a near-religious significance for some people in our world, too,” he commented. He indicated the glitzy stone at the centre of the ceremony. “Is that a healing crystal?” he asked reverently.
   “Yes, Human, and even a small piece of it would be enough to restore Peter—in the right hands, of course.”  
“How’re we going to do this, Thyme?” Trevor asked. “Is there any way one of us could sneak up there and snatch a piece—once he’s finished cleaving it—while they’re still in this trancelike state? Maybe Qualice—?” he suggested. The gnome looked at Trevor in horror. He chattered excitedly, shaking his small head, before taking a firm grip on Cliso’s tail, while she coiled around him in support. She hissed at Trevor, leaving him in no doubt of her feelings on the subject. Trevor raised his hands, “Sorry, Qualice, Cliso. It’s just that Qualice is so swift and deft with his hands,” he said placatingly, remembering how Qualice had deftly removed both his belongings from his pockets, and his food from his plate.
   “No, Trevor. We have a better plan.” Thyme smiled, and Trevor suddenly realised how pleasant the fairy was being to him. He instantly became wary. Thyme reminded him of a book he’d once read: Sybil, about a woman with multiple personalities. And I never know which one is speaking to me, Trevor thought. He spared a moment to think of Mari, with Lily to protect her, wondering if Lily also had unknown personalities lurking within. Shaking his head at the idea, he tried to figure out the best method for wresting a confession out of a fairy who, all too obviously, wanted to keep him ignorant.
   “What plan is that, Thyme?” he asked with an attempt at a friendly return, but then spoiled it by adding rather acerbically, “And why wasn’t I told?”
   Thyme’s jolly attitude was almost enough to make Trevor turn around and run. But there was Peter to consider, and the necessity of hurrying their venture to return to Mari and Katy.
 “I can’t tell you here,” Thyme said dramatically, as though the Valners were listening. “I’ll fill you in on the whole thing later—when we’re alone,” he said in a stage whisper.
   Oh, no, Trevor thought. He’s up to something. And whatever it is, he doesn’t want me to know about it. Thyme is doing devious, and apparently, the devious starts with me.