I’m Cidney Swanson and I love Pie, Sunshine, and Big Fat Books! I write YA novels about kick-butt heroines and the boys they
kiss (Oops! Spoiler!)
This bi-annual event was first organized by author Colleen Houck to give readers access to exclusive bonus material from new authors and to win awesome prizes! At this hunt, you not only get access to exclusive content from each author, you also get a clue for the hunt. Add up the clues, and you can enter for our prize–one lucky winner will receive one signed book from each author on the hunt in my team! But play fast: this contest (and all the exclusive bonus material) will only be online for 72 hours!
Go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page to find out all about the hunt. There are EIGHT contests going on simultaneously, and you can enter one or all! I am a part of thePINK TEAM–but there are seven other teams!If you’d like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the authors participating, and see the full list of prizes up for grabs, go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page.
SCAVENGER HUNT PUZZLE
Directions: Below, you’ll find my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the Pink Team, and then add them up (don’t worry, you can use a calculator!).
Rules: Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian’s permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by April 5, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.
SCAVENGER HUNT POST
Today, I am hosting Angela Myron on my website for the YA Scavenger Hunt! Angela Myron was born in Vancouver, Canada in 1973. She grew up in the piney forests of southern British Columbia, studying tiny blue bells, dodging hidden cacti, and creating fantasy worlds in her back yard. Angela studied biology and professional writing at the University of Victoria in Canada and San Francisco State University. She wrote grant proposals for nonprofits, technical manuals for software, and freelance journalism before writing fiction.
Find out more information by checking out the author website or find more about the author’s book here
When strange accidents start happening around thirteen year-old necromancer Ennara and her friends, she must search for the mysterious stolen artifacts causing the attacks while learning the highest form of magic—the spells that could prevent the fruition of a terrible prophecy.
From Book Three: Ennara and the Silver Throne
Ennara glanced at the night sky as their horses rode to the lake. The stars were familiar, same as the ones back home. She exhaled deeply. For a moment, at least, she could pretend she was back in Hogin. The air bought her back immediately. Thin, crisp, mountain air. Not the air of home.
The procession slowed. Attendants drew close to the King’s steed, fixing his trail and smoothing the horse’s mane. His majesty brushed them off.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said in a rough tone. “It’s only a carnival, not a pageant.”
Before them, lining the eastern shore of a dark mountain lake, stretched the bright-lit tents of a gypsy caravan. Strange shapes moved between them—tall, squat and round, and curious shapes. As they drew closer, the torchlit circus revealed bears, lions, and monkeys dressed as humans, a man walking on stilts, and another, small and round, dressed in a jester’s costume. Townspeople filtered in and around the tents, and the air was filled with a din of laughter, speeches, applause, and an occasional squeal of delight.
Ennara and Kithe walked close to the King, followed by his court. Slowly, pairs drifted away, until the monarch and two foreigners were alone with three guards. The king turned to them and smiled.
“The finest carnival in the land, this is. And one of the few opportunities my court has to become engaged with something other than me.” He chuckled. His voice was warm, deep, and proud, but his eyes held a sadness that even the fair could not touch, Ennara thought.
One of his advisers, the elderly, balding gentleman, emerged from a tent nearby. “Your Majesty, you must come see. They have a young dragon from Tzu, and an egg!”
The King’s eyes brightened. “A dragon!” He and the guards disappeared into the tent.
Ennara and Kithe turned to follow. A bony hand caught Ennara’s wrist.
“A fortune, perhaps, for the young couple?” A hunched, old woman with long gray hair and thick dark eyebrows tugged at her. She wore the flowing black dress of a gypsy widow. Her dark eyes flashed behind the creases of the long life.
Ennara turned to Kithe and blushed. The young man, now a foot taller than her, smirked and shrugged.
“Why not?” his deep voice asked. He mocked a bow and held out his arm to hers.
Ennara bit her bottom lip. She could think of a few why nots. She placed her hand on his arm and nodded demurely. They would not need to pretend to be royals long. And if the fortuneteller actually saw anything about who they really were, Ennara would hypnotize the woman and make her forget.
They entered a small tent covered in thick carpet and large pillows. The woman toddled over to a maid in a green shift and mumbled some instructions to her, then sat on a low upholstered chair before a short wooden table.
“Come, sit.” She motioned to some pillows before her.
Thick, fragrant smoke billowed up before their eyes as the attendant placed new incense in brass urns flanking the table. Kithe coughed. Ennara’s eyes burned.
“Okay,” Kithe objected, “can we lay off the smoke?”
“Ah, the young hero.” The old woman laughed. “And the girl who cannot see.”
Kithe gripped her hand. “Ennara, something isn’t right. You’re fading…”
Ennara’s mind felt heavy, as if her thoughts were slogging through a swamp. Or was she? Everything seemed so confused. Smells of the swamp at Cottonwood Lake filled her nose. She thought she heard birds in the distance. Her legs immobile, she struggled to wade through the mud. Branches whipped her arms. Images flashed before her. A stone room overlooking a high mountain ascent. A wraith gripping her mind, squeezing life and love from her.
She gasped. There she stood, in Ardewynn’s chambers again. A full moon flooded the chamber, casting it in a silvery pall.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Ennara spun and choked on a scream.
“Oh, my dear.” A crackling voice came from the darkened hood of a tall cloaked figure. “So kind of you to come. Now, let’s see about having a longer stay this time, shall we?”
A mummified hand lifted a silver manacle from the interior of the robe. It was decorated with a purple gem with green flecks in it.
Ennara stumbled back. The lich grabbed her. Her hand sizzled, and she looked down to see a small gold and green dragon crouching on her hand, bellowing flames at the undead sorcerer. Her eyes grew wide as the tiny creature unwrapped its tail from her wrist and took flight, stretching golden wings. It screeched and breathed flames onto the undead sorcerer again.
In the distance, Ennara heard a sweet ringing of bells. Was she awake, or in a dream? The dragon perched on her shoulder and whispered, ”Rocen, ghergo vorastrixiv.”
Ennara blinked. She was in the old woman’s tent again, smoke stinging her eyes and making her mind heavy. Crashes came from the side of the room where Kithe struggled with the attendant.
He pushed the woman away and glanced around the room. His eyebrows knotted as he looked into the basin perching on the table between the mystic and Ennara.
“Ennara!” he shouted as he crossed the room to the basin. “We need to get out of here!”
The attendant rose from the floor behind him, her eyes blazing with fury. She pulled a knife from her belt.
Kithe knotted his brows once more at the basin, then plunged his hand in. The fortune teller screamed, and the attendant rushed at Kithe, knife raised. He withdrew his hand, gripping the Sword of Gisilfrid.
“Kithe?” Ennara shook her head. “What…?”
Kithe spun around, the sword flashed through the darkness. The young woman screamed and crumpled onto the floor beside him.
A wild cackle penetrated the smoke. Kithe bent to take Ennara’s arm and lift her to her feet.
“We need to go, now,” he said.
The old woman straightened to a towering height, her visage taking on a skeletal profile. She held up a finger.
A man’s voice, familiar, dark, and brooding came through the mask, “Play well, young sorceress, and bide your sunny days in your false harmony. They end soon.”
Ardewynn’s laughter filled the tent.
“Die, fiend!” Kithe swung the sword at the lich, but sliced through smoke. The fortuneteller was gone.
And don’t forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a ton of signed books by me, Angela Myron, and more! To enter, you need to know my favorite number is 5! Add up all the favorite numbers of the authors on the PINK TEAM and you’ll have all the secret code to enter for the grand prize!
CONTINUE THE HUNT
To keep going on your quest for the hunt, you need to check out the next author