“The Hit” – Excerpt from Project Prometheus: NOWHERE TO HIDE

Today’s offering is excerpted from another of my current Project Prometheus works-in-progress, as part of my lead-in to my upcoming re-release, self-published, of IN HER NAME, the first book in the series.

This particular piece comes from NOWHERE TO HIDE.  Meet Candace Billings, daughter of a man with connections that could get her killed.

“The Hit” – Excerpted from Project Prometheus: NOWHERE TO HIDE ~ Copyright 2007 by Esther Mitchell

            This is it.  I’m going to die.

The thought slipped through Candace Billings’ mind like a snake, gone in a flash as the dark sedan slammed into the side of her sports car again. Grim humor gripped her as she acknowledged it wasn’t actually her anything.  She didn’t know a damned thing about cars. This was Ben’s car, sliding out of control on the rain-slick road as she fought to break free from the shove of the other vehicle.

God, please don’t let me die here.

What she was praying for, she didn’t know.  Death would be preferable to being returned to Ben’s fancy townhouse, or worse, to her father’s sprawling mansion.  Still, Candace gritted her teeth and fought the out-of-control car, and the jarring pound of the hitman’s vehicle.

And she had no doubt he was a hitman.  One of the cartel’s thugs, no doubt, employed strictly to take care of people like her.  Candace barked a sharp laugh, but didn’t dare spare a glance for the backpack on the passenger seat beside her, or a thought for its contents.  She didn’t have time.

A guardrail loomed in the beam of her headlights, and she swore softly beneath her breath as she slammed the brake to the floor.  The screech of the expensive machinery protesting the hard use joined the chorus of squealing rubber and the splinter of crushed metal and fiberglass.  Then, there was a sickening crunch, and pain seared through her body as she flew forward, caught between the guardrail to her left and the gunning engine of the sedan to her right.  Her breath stopped in her lungs as the seatbelt strangled her, then snapped, and a nauseating crack filled the compartment.  She slumped sideways with a groan as pain exploded through her, and only the tortured squeal of the windshield wipers kept her company as she tumbled into darkness.

Want to know more about Project Prometheus?  Stay tuned… And look for the upcoming re-release of IN HER NAME, coming soon from Esther Mitchell!

“Walking Dead” – Excerpt from Project Prometheus: TWIST OF FATE

Today’s excerpt comes from another Project Prometheus novel, TWIST OF FATE.

I’ve always been fascinated by the concepts of hypnotism and the true Vodun practice of Zombies (not the Hollywood myths). While many psychology professionals will tell you that a person won’t do anything under hypnosis that goes against his/her basic moral compass, I’ve often wondered what it would take to erase that line. Could a certain combination of drugs, or toxins, or some other influence (hence where the Vodun comes in), cause the line between right and wrong to evaporate, under hypnosis? I decided to explore this concept in TWIST OF FATE.  I hope you enjoy the read.

“Walking Dead” – Excerpt from Project Prometheus: TWIST OF FATE ~ Copyright 2006 by Esther Mitchell

Misty Jarrod hugged her arms close against her body and shivered as the cold desert air bit through her shirt.  She doubted she’d ever get used to the desert, with its searing hot days and freezing nights.  She missed home.  The flowers would be blooming on the shore of Lake Superior, by now, and homesickness flooded her.  She could almost smell the violets, tulips and hyacinth.  And beneath it all, the subtle scent of cigarette smoke…

Misty’s head snapped up, her thoughts broken by the out-of-place scent.  No one in Manara’s temple smoked.  These people had an odd purity, for as hung-up on sex as they were.  And none of the Prometheans here at the moment smoked, either.  Her eyes narrowed, Misty sniffed the air, dragging in the scent as she tried to place why it was so familiar.  It wasn’t just a cigarette.  There was a subtle, sweet note to it, reminiscent of vanilla and… cinnamon! The final piece jogged into place, and she decided she’d gone off the deep end.  Those were Nick’s cigarettes she smelled.  Only, Nick was dead.

Pain twisted in her chest like a python as the scent wove through her, bringing memories of her husband – the man she loved more than life – out from the depths of her heart.  She buried him six years ago, not questioning he was dead. Not even without a body to prove it.  The empty hollow in her heart told her all she needed to know.  Nick was gone.  Nothing would bring him back.

Anger followed hard on the heels of pain, and she flipped her sidearm free from its holster, disengaging the safety as she followed the scent toward its origin.  Whoever was smoking that cigarette, she didn’t believe it was coincidence.  Call her paranoid, but since Nick disappeared, she sensed someone following her.  Even though no one told her exactly how he died – all they would say was that he “disappeared” – she knew he’d been on a deep cover CIA mission under the guise of a UN inspection of the No Fly Zone.  She wasn’t stupid.

The scent led off toward the eastern boundary of the Temple’s construction zone. Misty kept her breathing silent and steady, moving slowly as she allowed her eyes to adjust to the moonless night.  Whoever was out there, she would find him, and make him answer for following her.  She wouldn’t fail her boss, or these people.  No one was going to get to them through her, no matter how much he pretended to be her dead husband.

As she reached the boundary, Misty caught sight of a silhouette, and froze.  No way!

“Who the hell are you?”  She snarled the words, refusing to believe what her senses were telling her.

The figure turned, stepped toward her, and Misty flicked on the small penlight, casting a narrow, soft beam of light that wouldn’t harm her vision, or her reaction time.  As the beam played over his body, the breath sucked from her, leaving her shaking with disbelief.  She wouldn’t believe this.  She couldn’t believe this.  The beam touched his face, and the cold night had nothing on the chill that spread through her.  Oh my god.

“Nick?”

And then, the click of a safety disengaging froze her, as a gun lifted directly into her line of sight.  He was going to shoot her!

Want to know more about Project Prometheus?  Stay tuned, and be sure to check out IN HER NAME, the first book, coming soon from Esther Mitchell!

“By a Breath” – Excerpt from TIGER LILY

This excerpt is from a book I’m working on as part of my Project Prometheus series. I’m not anywhere near ready to release this book, but the scene wouldn’t let me be until I wrote it, so I thought I’d share… here it is! Enjoy!

“By a Breath” (Excerpt from Project Prometheus: TIGER LILY) – copyright 2009 by Esther Mitchell

Great job, Ardines.  You’re a real hero, now.  Toni cursed herself roundly as she stared at the ground, wavering some seven hundred feet below her.  She felt a tug, and a slip, and her heart slid into her throat, where it pounded frantically.  Sweat stood out on her brow, and she prayed to anyone listening that the already-torn harness wouldn’t decide to let go under her weight.  She loved the Earth.  Just not enough to meet it in a high-velocity embrace from the side of a mountain, thanks a lot.

A weak squawk from the ledge ten feet above her drew Toni’s gaze for a moment, and she remembered why she’d insisted on this climb.  There was an eagle’s nest up there, and the fledgling was in trouble.  She swallowed hard, and drew a careful breath.  She had more important things to worry about than the ground.  Somehow, she had to right herself and get to that baby bird, before it died of starvation and exposure.

Normally, she wasn’t stupid enough to tangle with a golden eagle.  But that was before she watched a poacher shoot the mother bird out of the sky just above the nest, four days ago.  The injustice of it all brought her rage and determination seething to the surface, and she’d ignored Brandt’s entreaty for her to keep her feet firmly on the ground and leave  rescuing the baby bird to the authorities.

Like hell.  She wasn’t about to sit around on her ass and do nothing for a week, until some paper-pusher in some government building decided it was a worthwhile investment of manpower to rescue one tiny, helpless bird.  She’d told Brandt as much, even as she harnessed herself into her mountaineering rig this morning and kissed him good-bye.  She was her mother’s daughter, after all, and Stacy Red Eagle wouldn’t have sat around, waiting, either.

A sharp upper-mountain gust of wind caught Toni, and slammed her against the rock face of the mountain, just then, nearly knocking the wind from her as it set her careening wildly on the climbing harness that had suffered an unexpected malfunction.  Damn it.  She really should have let Cody check the rig over when he was here, last week.  Her brother was a professional mountaineer.  He would have caught the flaw in the harness straps she’d clearly overlooked.

Shaking her head carefully, to clear it from the fog caused by her impact with the mountain, she used her new facing to assess her options.  Falling wasn’t one of them, as far as she was concerned, and neither was leaving that little eagle up there, to die.  Her gaze skimmed the face of the mountain, and she picked out the large seam, or crack, running parallel to her position.  She’d never done a crack climb free of protective belays, before, and she wasn’t sure she was up to the task, but there really wasn’t any other choice.  At least, if she fell from there, she’d die doing something more than hanging in the air like a fleshy pinata.

An indrawn breath for courage later, Toni narrowed her gaze on the crack, and swung her body slowly that way, careful to not impact the rock too hard, lest her weight break off rock she’d need for grip.  Her hand grasped the lip of the crack and held, even as she felt the sickening tug and drop of the harness leaving the one outcrop that had, until just now, held her suspended in the air.  Balancing her weight carefully into the edges of the crack, she heaved herself upward, toward the outcrop where the nest was.  If she could reach the bird, she could mark the spot, and ascend to the top of the mountain a short distance above that.  From there, Brandt could bring the helicopter in, and they could finally get the baby golden eagle to safety at the sanctuary.

Her hand slipped, and her heart bounced rapidly around in her chest as she barely caught herself from falling.  Pay attention,  Ardines, or the only thing they’ll be doing is sweeping your carcass off the forest floor!

With that stern admonition, she pressed on, her entire focus narrowed to the mountain beneath her hands, and the tiny cries coming from her destination.  She refused to feel the burning of her muscles, the pain that shot through her hands when she grabbed wrong and the jagged rock tore them open and bleeding.  She could rest, and treat her wounds, later.  Then, with a final heave, she was within reach.  Carefully loosening one hand from the crack, she levered her arm onto the outcrop ledge, hooking it around a craggy jut of rock.  Then she let herself dead hang for just a moment while she shifted her weight and center of balance.  She let go of the crack completely, and inched her way up onto the solid outcrop in a belly crawl.

The fledgling flapped its still-useless wings in the nest, screeching in a protest for its mother to come and deal with this unwelcome intruder.  Toni, panting from exertion, wiped one bloody arm across her sweaty forehead, and sat back against the mountain’s face to catch her breath.  She glanced wryly at the indignantly screaming bird.

“Hey, kid, I’d rather not be up here, myself.  We’re in this, together, so you better get used to the idea.”

Tilting her head back, Toni closed her eyes and let the sunlight bathe her face.  She’d done what she set out to do, and she wouldn’t apologize for that.  After all, her mother had taught her that life was all about the adventures, not the risks.

Want to know more about Project Prometheus? Look for Book #1, IN HER NAME, coming soon from Esther Mitchell!

“Aectetis”

This is a little something I’ve fooled around with, off and on, for a number of years… Just a little project to keep my muse engaged with the active, battlefield mentality I often need to write suspense.

I’ve always had a love for Greek mythology, for vastly personal reasons. I will note that this isn’t a researched novel. References are ones gleaned from decades of pure fascination and study of Greek mythology and history. If I ever decide to turn this into a novel, I’ll be doing lots of research… for now, it just remains a little exercise for my muse, that I thought I’d share a bit of, with you. Enjoy!

“Aectetis”

They were sent from the gates, into the gaping maw of the desert cavern, but neither man went willingly.  No man who knew the tales, or believed in Hades’ wide dominion, would have been willing.  Aectetis blessed himself repeatedly and murmured prayers to Athene, while Taracles muttered curses against the darkness hovering around them.

“This is madness,” Taracles muttered as he thrust his torch savagely into the inky passageway, his sword clenched in one hard fist, his dark eyes steely.  “I tell you, Aectetis; Sikander’s run mad.”

Aectetis swallowed hard, but offered no answer.  He couldn’t have spoken, at the moment, had his life depended on it.  His scalp itched with sweat, beneath the cockle-crested helm, and his leather armor might as well have been Prometheus’ stone, about his neck. It suffocated him. Why was he here? He had neither Taracles’ Spartan toughness, nor the great Aristotle’s Athenian scepticism.  He was provincial, a farmer’s son, with little understanding of either war or philosophy. He believed in the power of the Gods, and mere mortals ought not to trifle with such things.

“I heard from the Emperor’s man that Sikander’s gripped with fevers that roll his eyes up in his head; that he hears voices.  Voices!” Taracles scoffed openly, his voice edged with dark humor.  “Can you believe that? The Furies come to claim his fool head, and yet none dares question his whims!”

A skittering in the darkness brought Aectetis’ gaze quickly around, and he battled down a rising wave of pure panic.

“Do you suppose it’s true? What they say of this place?” Aectetis dared not breathe more than that, lest he anger the spirits here.

“That it leads straight to Tartarus; that the voices of the damned echo here?” Taracles shrugged nonchalantly.

“No.  That there’s a demon down here.  A demon unlike any other,” Aectetis whispered, clutching his heavy bronze shield closer.

Taracles laughed harshly. “Demons?  Aectetis, you’re too old for such children’s tales!”

“But what if it’s true?” Aectetis insisted, unable the still the growing panic in his chest. He swore he could hear the monster breathing – Aechidna’s own foul spawn.  “General Ptolomy says the Emperor’s had terrible visions, in his sleep; that he dreams of a demon come to suck the very breath from his lungs.  Do you suppose –?”
Taracles’ scowl effectively cowed Aectetis.  “Now, you listen to me, Aectetis, and listen well.  Sikander’s a raving madman, and any fool with eyes can see it. I can tell you exactly what we’ll find in these caverns.  Nothing.  There are no demons here, or anywhere else, for that matter.”

“But the locals believe—“

“Ignorant peasants!” Taracles spat disgustedly, as if he’d tasted something foul.  “Their superstitions should not sway an Emperor, or a general, from conquest.”

The comment, spoken as only an aristocrat would dare, stung.  Aectetis forced the anger away, aware that it was a small enough matter, at the moment.  Survival was a more pressing concern than pride.

Silence hovered around them, and Aectetis’ heart beat in dread.  This wasn’t right.  There should be sounds – the echo if their sandaled feet on the cavern floor, the drip of underground water, the shift of rocks, even the sound of their breathing – yet no sound penetrated the oppressive stillness.  The closer they moved toward the wide cavern at the tunnel’s end, the heavier the silence grew, until Aectetis feared he’d gone deaf.

Moving cautiously, they entered the subterranean hall, and abruptly stopped.  No wind stirred here, no sound murmured in the stillness.  It was, Aectetis decided with a shiver of dread, a tomb.  The eeriness of it all crawled along his spine.

A form moved in the darkness of the torch’s jumping shadow.  Aectetis turned his head to better see, just as his torch sputtered and blew out.  A moment later, Taracles’ died as well, plunging the cavern into utter darkness.

“What was that?” Aectetis’ horrified whisper finally pierced the hovering silence.  “Taracles?”

“It was probably a draught from the tunnel.” Taracles sounded annoyed.  “Let me find my flint.”

A moment later, a soft glow sparked in the darkness, and Aectetis’ muscles slowly relaxed.  “Thank you, Taracles.  I –“

“Quiet, fool!”  Taracles hissed, brandishing his blade.  “That light isn’t mine.  There’s someone else down here!”

Aectetis’ voice died on a terrified gasp, his heart pounding harshly in his ears as he flattened himself against the wall behind him.  More than ever, he wanted to flee this place.  But Taracles would see that as cowardice, and as long as Taracles remained, Aectetis could do no less.  He would not dishonor his family, or his people.

In Raiador’s Shadow: Excerpt from DAUGHTER OF ASHES

It’s been a while… So I thought you might like a little something to chew on (figuratively speaking, of course…;)…).  For the next couple of days, I will endeavor to entertain you with excerpts from some of my current and upcoming works (don’t worry, I’ll make sure to tell you which is which).

Tonight’s offering comes from my currently-available Legends of Tirum Fantasy-Romance series (heavier on the Fantasy than the Romance, in this case).  The series can be found for sale in ebook at www.desertbreezepublishing.com or via www.amazon.com … And I’ve just recently signed contracts to expand into print releases, beginning in 2013, so be on the look-out!

Without further ado, here is an excerpt from the first book, Daughter of Ashes… Enjoy!

Excerpt from Legends of Tirum: Daughter of Ashes –

Raiador.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”

Her attention whipped to her left at that query, to find a man standing beside her. He had the long, plaited hair of a Borderlander, and his tarnished armor screamed mercenary loud enough the dead could have heard it. And yet, something told her he was neither.

“Excuse me?”

He nodded toward Raiador. “The mountain. Never seen anything quite like it.”

She peered closer in the diming light, trying to discover what it was about him that convinced her he wasn’t exactly what his appearance claimed. He was tall, even to her with her Bathron blood. That could be a Borderlander trait — the few she met were easily as tall as she was. His mud-brown hair hung midway down his back, woven into the traditional Borderlander plaits. But there were secrets in his smoky-green gaze that told her he wasn’t who he appeared. A sense of kinship to this man blanketed her — she was more than she appeared, as well, even if she wasn’t sure what that was, yet. This man’s charisma told her he was far from the mercenary his garb declared him to be.

A well-worn scabbard hung from an equally abused leather belt, but his sword hilt had the gleam of care, and the glint of metal at the top of his scuffed black boots hinted that he was well armed. He wasn’t a man to take lightly, and she had to wonder if he was friend, or foe.

“And you are?” She frowned up at him, daring him to meet her gaze.

He did, but those eyes remained shuttered, not allowing her access to his thoughts. “No one of consequence, Sera.”

 

“Calm Before The Storm”: Excerpt from Underground’s TERMINAL HUNTER

   Forged in the fires of a war that forever changed their world, these ten men and women are highly-skilled operators who have taken the rally cry of “Never Again” as their own.  Theirs is a world where the lines between military and civilian have blurred, and the difference between life and death could be as simple as the next breath.

They are Commandos, and they are the last line of defense between peace and chaos, where love has become the greatest strength, and fear, the most devastating weakness.

                                            UNDERGROUND

                                                         Book 3

                                         TERMINAL HUNTER

Commando Tamia Kuan hasn’t had an easy life, but she’s never made excuses for making the best of what she has. Her life is beginning to come together… Until the loss of a friend drives home the one lesson in life she’s been hiding from — no one is invincible. Now, she’s faced with the very real possibility of losing everything she holds dear. Can a dangerous past be unmade, before it brings any hope of a future crashing down around her?

Excerpt from Underground #3: TERMINAL HUNTER

Tamia leaned her head against the cool, tiled wall of the bathroom and let the murmur of Rick’s voice wash over her. He had a very calming voice, and the light flavor of a Boston-born accent made her feel as if she was wrapped up in a warm blanket. She felt better, just knowing Rick was there.

The baby shifted in her womb, and Tamia smiled. She’d told Rick the truth, she was willing to pay any price for the child growing inside of her. Love swelled in her heart. Someday very soon, she’d hold her baby in her arms. It was a dream she hadn’t believed she’d live to see become reality.

“Good morning, Mikey,” she whispered as she stroked her belly gently. She and Rick settled on Michael as the baby’s name after her last appointment with Faulker. Her hand rose to the silvery hololocket around her neck. She didn’t have to open it to know what would appear if she did. A holographic image of the Archangel Michael, watching over a soldier carrying a child in his arms. The image was a special message from Rick to her – the promise of a protector for the defender.

“Sweetheart?” Rick’s hand squeezed her arm gently, and her eyes opened to the worry in his. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Michael just said good morning.”

His hand moved to her belly, rubbing gently, as he murmured, “Good morning to you, too.”

Their eyes met, and Tamia smiled softly, blinking away tears. Then she noticed how he was dressed, and uneasiness shot through her. Rick hardly ever wore his uniform, unless… “What’s going on?”

“The Tribunal wants me to testify, at ten. I hate to run off on you, but—”

“Go,” she urged. She knew how important this was, and if the tables were reversed, she’d expect the same understanding. Their jobs didn’t end because they were married. The same responsibilities, and the same dangers, remained.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

As she heard the door lock’s tone sound a few moments later, Tamia’s stomach clenched in fear, and she aimed for the toilet again as bile rose in her throat. She was frightened of what could happen if the Tribunal quashed the charges, and she was terrified that, by testifying, Rick was putting himself squarely in the cross-hairs of an assassin’s gun.

Like what you read here?  Pick up your copy of TERMINAL HUNTER today, at www.underthemoon.org/terminalhunter.html or check out other Underground books at www.esthermitchell.com

Be sure to join me on Facebook, to participate in a contest that could net you a free book!  Join my fan page at https://www.facebook.com/authoresthermitchell and find out more!

 

“Aftershocks” — Excerpt from Underground 3: TERMINAL HUNTER

The third book of Underground, TERMINAL HUNTER, will be available for sale in just five days.  In honor of that, I’d like to present a little sneak peek inside… Enjoy!  And don’t forget to pick up your copy, January 31, at www.underthemoon.org

“Aftershocks”  — Excerpted from Underground 3: TERMINAL HUNTER

If he thought dealing with Carrissa was heart-wrenching and difficult, Rick knew his next stop had the potential to rip his heart straight out of his chest. He fidgeted nervously as the hydrolift moved up. As it came to a stop on the Trauma floor of Mount    Sinai Hospital, Rick ran his hand through his hair and blew out an anxious breath. God, he wasn’t sure he could do this. He didn’t know if he could face her, or what he could say to her…

The cop standing guard at the door snapped alert as he neared. “Name and business.”

“Commander Richard Carinson. I’m a friend.”

The guard consulted the computer pad in his hands, and nodded. “Go on in. Fifteen minutes.”

Rick swallowed and opened the door, his stomach knotted with tension. The room’s occupant was sitting by the window, her eyes fixed on the sun setting over the city. She didn’t even seem aware he was there.

“Jean?”

She jumped, as if startled by even that quietly spoken query. As she turned, he caught the flash of fear in her haunted eyes. Then, as she realized who he was, she relaxed visibly. It was one more reminder of what she’d been through; bold, brave Jean would never be the same again.

“Hello, Rick.” Her voice was toneless as she turned back toward the window. “Can’t say I expected to see you here.”

Pain rose, but he tamped it under control. “What the hell’s this?”

Her head lowered. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

She jerked out a shrug. “I have good days, and bad ones. The doctors say I’m getting better. But I still feel like a train wreck, on the inside.”

He moved to crouch beside her chair, looking at her somberly. “I don’t have any answers for you, Jean. I wish to God that we’d got there sooner. I wish you’d told me what was going down; I still wish you would. I wish I could go and strangle Horner and Tolson to death, for letting it happen.”

“If wishes were pennies…”

A Flight of Fantasy (or “Why on Earth Did You Write That?”)

I was recently asked what inspired me to write a series set completely in a Fantasy world, when so much of what I do usually takes place in the “real” world (whether present or future).  I figured you all might be interested in my answer to this question, too.  So, let me tell you a story (*grins* Can’t help it… I’m an author!)…

 

Legends of Tirum, you may be surprised to learn, isn’t my first foray into the world of Fantasy.  Most of the time, however, I deal in parallel dimensions to our own Earth, when doing my Fantasy work.  I’m not entirely sure why, myself.  Maybe it’s because I’m truly fascinated by the concept of “What If…”.  I love exploring the possibilities of where our own world could be, or could have been at some point in the past, if things had gone differently (whether minor alterations, or complete world-changers).  I guess that makes most of my Fantasy actually more of a form of Speculative Fiction.

 

Legends of Tirum is a completely different animal.  I actually created not just another world, but another whole solar system, unique constellations, and a completely independent growth, world-wise.  My reason for doing this was to create something so far outside of my “norm” as to be truly unique among my work.  I strive for that, in every series.  Some unique facet, whether a small spark of difference among the contemporarily-set paranormals (for example, there are many such differences between the military-oriented Project Prometheus, which deals solely in parapsychological phenomena, and the mystery/suspense heavy Guardians, Inc., in which paranormal creatures – known as Paras – are a real and involved part of our society), or major leaps of difference, such as seen between the technologically-stagnant Underground and the hyper-technological Section Psi.

 

Legends of Tirum takes it to an all-new level for me, stripping away the technology (or most of it… but I won’t spoil the surprise! …) and replacing it with a nod to the classic Sword-and-Sorcery storyline – with a twist.  After all, it’s not often when the main character is BOTH the sword-toting warrior AND the “sorceress” with an entire arsenal of deadly magical spells at her disposal.  I gave all of my characters unique qualities that set them apart from both each other and from every other character I’ve ever written about.

 

So, if you’re looking for something Fantasy, with a twist or two of Romance thrown in for good measure (and because, without it, my main character would probably be an irritating hard-ass…lol), you can find out more about this series on my website, at http://www.esthermitchell.com/LegendsofTirum.html

Legends of Tirum, Book 3: Spirit Mage

 

“Uncharted Territory” — Legends of Tirum, Book 3: SPIRIT MAGE

When Phoenix Telyn Gwndal returned to Raiador, she intended to bury her heart there, and never love again.  But when the  Elementals guarding the sacred World Forge set her a task that took her beyond the reaches of a mystical forest, Telyn was about to come face-to-face with a secret that would turn everything she believes about life, and death, upside down.

“Uncharted Territory” — Excerpt from SPIRIT MAGE:

The Eleshau was alive. That was what all the stories about this benighted wood said, and after everything she’d seen during her time in the Borderlands, she wasn’t inclined to disagree. Phoenix Telyn Gwndal eyed the trees around her warily as she rode along the undergrowth-covered ancient paths. Not many people ever travelled these trails. Few who did ever returned.

She glanced to her right, certain the trees were whispering, and not in the whimsical, imaginative way. She was far too aware the shadows here harbored monsters capable of killing the body, or stealing the soul.

“I must be mad.”

She had no idea why she was here, but she wasn’t inclined to linger without good reason. Somewhere out there in the trees was  Nacaris’ final resting place. Though she’d searched, she never found his body.  She mourned him the whole way to Raiador, battered and weary to the soul. She’d expected to hide herself away within the World Forge and lick her wounds – both physical and emotional — until she could face the world again.

But the Salamandars had other ideas. No sooner had she arrived, Phoenix Book in tow, than they put her to work memorizing the entire Book. And then, to her shock and horror, they sent her back out here, to the Eleshau. Sala claimed the next step in her journey as one of the Chosen lay beyond this forest.

Telyn swallowed hard. She wasn’t even sure there was anything beyond the Eleshau. Legend told of a land beyond here — a mystical land peopled by beings from the stars, and Majikal creatures few had ever seen. Other stories declared the continent dropped off sharply into the roiling riptides of the ocean, just past the forest. That, storytellers said, was why no one who entered the forest ever returned.

Weekend Gems: “Gilded Cage”

“No one said this would be easy.” Maltai circled her cage, watched her stalking movements match his stride warily as she pulled against the golden chain and collar that encircled her neck.  “You’re not going to get out of there, no matter what I do, unless you’re ready to quit being so damned noble.”

She loosed a warning growl that rumbled in the air between them as he stepped closer, her bright yellow eyes narrowing as she bared her teeth.  Then, backing off, she shook herself, shedding her feline form in the process.  In the space of a breath, she went from imposing lioness to a lean, proud woman with tawny skin and dark hair, wearing only the short, tattered drape of cloth that denoted her servitude, and the proud, regal tilt of her chin that told him she was far from a broken slave.

“If I compromise my very core, and everything I hold dear, then I might as well stay here and become a slave in truth.  What reason do I have to be free, if I sacrifice my soul self in the process?”

Want to know more?  Stay tuned for details about Legends of Tirum and this book, Mistress of Cats!  Meanwhile, check out Books 1 & 2 at Desert Breeze Publishing