Category: Book Excerpts

Sneak Peek Friday

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JTA BC 150Every Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books.  This week’s excerpt is from Ancient Voices: Into the Depths, which was just released in November.

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Morganne still marveled each day at how her fortunes had changed in such a short time. But in the face of her fears, none of that seemed to matter anymore. And as much as she loved Elowyn and Adelin with all the ferocity their true mother should have, carrying the burden of their well-being alone was wearing on her. She was painfully aware that if anything bad befell either of them, the fault was her own for bringing them with her.

In that moment, Morganne felt more like a frightened child than an adult, and wished, as she often had when she was very small, to know the shelter of a loving father’s protective arms. All her life she had clung to a faint memory that she believed was of her father. It was so fragile that trying to hold it in her mind was like grasping at a wisp of smoke. The harder she peered into its shifting haze, the more it dissipated, until she could do nothing but let it slowly gather itself together again in the back of her mind.

There was blinding sun, warm against her face, and a salty, ocean smell. She was playfully lifted up high in the air by two strong hands, then embraced tightly. She could not see who had picked her up, however hard she tried. But the vibration of a man’s booming voice resonated through her as she pressed herself against his chest. In that moment, she had felt loved, and secure, more so than at any other time in her life since. She could remember nothing more.

The memory was one that had often comforted her in her darkest moments of despair. Yet it had also tormented her to the point of tears. Somehow, she had lost him. Why had he left her? Where had he gone? And why hadn’t he come back? Perhaps her mother’s anger had driven him away, unless it was his absence that had left her so bitter that she could no longer feel any love in her heart. Like Elowyn, Morganne had pressed her mother many times for answers without success, and she had always hated her mother for her stubborn silence. Morganne would have given anything to feel that embrace again, brief though it might have been.

Morganne sobbed silently into her night clothes, trying not to wake Elowyn and Adelin, for she had no desire to reveal her innermost sorrows to them. She was resolved that they would never witness her moments of weakness. She would hold her younger sisters in the protective arms that she had always longed for, even when her outward strength was only an illusion she created by sheer will alone.

MEET ANCIENT VOICES: INTO THE DEPTHS’ CHARACTERS

Sneak Peek Friday

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JourneytoAviadEvery Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books.  Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from Journey to Aviad, which is now permafree as an ebook. So if you haven’t read it yet, what’s holding you back?

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Elowyn was wakened in the night by a hard and frantic pounding at the shoemaker’s door. She could hear commands being shouted, along with yells, and screams, and the frightened cries of very small children. She cautiously unlatched the door, unable to push back the memory of the apparition that had once made itself known to her in the same way. The man standing in the doorway was no apparition. He was one of the watchmen, and the tone of his voice left no room for questioning.

“Awake yer household and get to the docks. The gate’s about to breech! Don’ stand there starin.’ Fly, now!”

In a panic, Elowyn woke Morganne and the shoemaker, telling them what the guard had said. The old man began cursing, but moved faster than Elowyn thought he would be capable of at his age. Morganne grabbed Adelin while Elowyn snatched their packs and flew out the door. There were dozens of men surrounding the gate, trying to brace it with wooden beams. A large crash echoed down the street as something heavy rammed into it from the other side. It shuddered and groaned as a dying beast about to breathe its last.

“Away from the gate!” someone called out. “It won’t stand another blow. Into position and weapons ready!” He had barely finished speaking when the next blow came. A wooden ram came crashing through, and the gate was breeched. The rest of the wall began to give way as well, and through the opening Elowyn got her first sight of a troll. Towering above everything, the troll was massive and hideously ugly, with a grey, sickly complexion. It had huge yellow teeth and merciless eyes. The first one through the breech called out triumphantly in a guttural tone that froze Elowyn’s blood. It snatched up one of the watchmen with its huge hands. As Elowyn looked on in sickening horror, it ripped him in two with its teeth and devoured him—armor, bones and all. It turned its head, grinning at the rest of the men who were scattering at its feet. Blood still dripped from the corners of its mouth

Elowyn’s knees suddenly unlocked themselves, and she ran with all that was in her. Morganne, Adelin, and the shoemaker were close behind. Elowyn realized that she had never truly known what fear was until that very moment in her life. It was a moment that forever changed her.

MEET JOURNEY TO AVIAD’S CHARACTERS

Sneak Peek Friday

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Every Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books. Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from my upcoming novella, Into the Shadow Wood, which is expected to be released this spring.

The darkness around me was so thick, it seemed to cling to my skin like stench-filled scum from a stagnant pond.  It was soaked into my hair, my clothes.  I was breathing it, allowing it to work its way in and through my body.  I had eaten from its sickly bounty to supplement our meager provisions.  It pressed my mind near to madness, stoking the fires of my inner violence, my anger and hatred toward Braeden and those who had wronged me—far beyond the desire for mere justice.  Would any bath be able to wash me clean again?  Would any purity of air be enough to draw the darkness from my body, without leaving a residue of its horrors behind to torment me for the rest of my days?  If one day I chose to accept my commander’s prayers on my behalf, and actually believe that there was a force of good stronger than all of this misery around me, would it even accept me?

There were still many hours of daylight left when I realized the wood had become darker than it ought to be.  It was almost as if we had hit a thick cloud, or a black fog, rising up from the ground, penetrating everything. Alaric paused, not wanting to press deeper into it, but my commander became excited.  His eyes were wide, and fixed into the darkness ahead.  A smile crossed his lips.  I could not tell if there was anything lucid behind it, or if he had finally crossed over the threshold.  He slowly drew his sword.  The rasp of it pulling away from the sheath seemed alarmingly loud.  Anyone who could hear that sound would recognize it.  I lifted my bow and readied an arrow against it in response to the tension pulling his muscles tight.  I feared that in his crazed state, he might suddenly turn on me and force me to defend myself against him.  Alaric no doubt had the same thought.  He watched our commander nervously and withdrew his weapon also. But in all the battles we had fought together, however hopeless they were, I had never seen his hand shake upon the hilt as it was shaking now. Something was about to happen.

Through the haze, I saw a red-yellow glow.  A torch?  A distant fire?  I squinted, trying to distinguish form from shadow, but everything was muddled and in motion.  Two red lights appeared, like burning coals; then two more, then four more.  I heard a low, threatening growl that set my heart racing.  A smoky howl lifted up, hanging suspended on the air as though it was a living thing of its own.  My blood chilled and a heavy sense of dread came over me.  Hounds.  My greatest fear upon entering this wood was that we would encounter them and their master.  This was their domain, and as far as I knew, no man who had stood against them in battle had lived to tell about it.  They were circling us, surrounding us, just as they had surrounded Nevon.  And it was too late to run.

Meet Einar for the first time in Journey to Aviad, now FREE as an ebook.

MEET JOURNEY TO AVIAD’S CHARACTERS

Book 1JOURNEY TO AVIAD

The Wind Rider Chronicles Book 1

Threatening clouds and fierce storms besiege the city of Tyroc. More frequent and powerful than ordinary storms, young Elowyn, a weaver’s daughter living in the outskirts of the city, senses something disturbing and unnatural about them. READ MORE

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Sneak Peek Friday

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JTA BC 150Every Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books.  Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from Ancient Voices: Into the Depths, which was just released in November.

Amazon     BN     Smashwords     Createspace

Elowyn was startled out of sleep by a rapping on the door. She opened her eyes and looked up to see herbs and dried fish hanging from the rafters above her. She was lying on a mat next to an open hearth, and there was a large loom against the far wall. Her mother’s loom. She sat up and looked around. She was back in Tyroc. Morganne and Adelin were not there, and the knocking at the door was becoming more forceful by the minute.

Her heart jumped as a huge clap of thunder suddenly shook the cottage, and a torrent of rain began to dash against the walls and roof. She stared at the door, terrified. Had the apparition of Nevon returned to torment her? Or was something more sinister lurking on the other side of the door? Another crack of thunder erupted from the sky, then rumbled low and long like a throaty growl. As the thunder trailed off, Elowyn thought she could hear something sniffing and scratching at the crack under the door. The banging continued more urgently, now made by something much harder than a human hand. The intruder was no longer knocking, but trying to break the door down.

The coin! Elowyn snatched her pouch from its hook on the wall and held it tightly to her chest. She had to make sure the coin nestled within it was safe. She flung aside the heavy curtain that led to her mother’s sleeping area, prepared to face her wrath. But her mother wasn’t there. The cottage had vanished, and Elowyn found herself standing in a cold, damp place, blinded by sheer darkness. She reached her hands out and a rough stone wall greeted her fingertips. After a few moments of fumbling with her tinder box and a stump of candle, she managed to light a small flame. She was in the underground shelter that Einar had once shown her. The heavy door on the other side of the room was barred shut from the inside.

Another deep boom of thunder and the pelting sound of heavy rain filled her ears. Something was very wrong. So far below ground, surrounded by thick, impenetrable walls, she should not have been able to hear either. Besides, this place was no longer safe now that Braeden knew about it. Elowyn began to panic. There was nothing to sustain her here—no food, water, blankets or source of heat. What frightened her more was the thought of what might be lying in wait on the outside. Were the Hounds camped just above her, waiting for her to emerge?

“Einar!” She called out in desperation, clenching the coin tightly in her fist. “Where are you?” Elowyn’s strained plea echoed off the bare walls, met only by an empty, frightening silence. Einar was not going to come…not this time. She was utterly alone, and no one who could help her knew where she was.

Suddenly there was a slow, ominous tapping at the door. Elowyn refused to answer, silently pressing herself into the farthest corner of the shelter. The tapping turned to persistent knocking, then banging, then pounding, so hard that even the massive door of the shelter shuddered with the force of it. Elowyn covered her ears to no avail as the pounding grew louder and louder. Boom!

Elowyn finally woke with her heart racing. Her throat was dry, but the rest of her was drenched in a nervous sweat. A storm was raging outside; a real, mountain-made spring storm, not one conjured by Braeden. One of the shutters had come loose and was banging hard against the wall. She got up and managed to secure it even though her hands were shaking. Morganne and Adelin were enjoying a deep, peaceful sleep, completely unaware of the turmoil going on around them.

MEET ANCIENT VOICES: INTO THE DEPTHS’ CHARACTERS

Sneak Peek Friday

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JourneytoAviadEvery Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books.  Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from Journey to Aviad, which is now permafree as an ebook. So if you haven’t read it yet, what’s holding you back?

Amazon     Barnes and Noble     Smashwords

Elowyn tried very hard to avoid looking directly at Braeden. The darkened eyes, the pale, sallow, strange fitting skin, the crooked nose and twisted smile … everything about him repulsed her. Enduring his presence was like reliving a nightmare that even the strength of the midday sun could not chase away. With every bite Elowyn took, she was trying to choke down with it the terror rising steadily to the top of her throat. She remembered all too clearly the black aura that had enveloped Braeden at Elias’ execution, even if she had been the only one to notice it. In but one fleeting moment, the directness of his gaze had seemed to penetrate all her defenses and left her feeling violated. If he’d had this effect on her from afar, how much more would he affect her now that he was just across the table? What would Braeden find should his probing eyes look directly into hers, and more importantly, what would he take?  Would the darkness he exuded surround her too?  She shuddered as she imagined it eating away, not at her flesh, but at the very essence of her being, until she was nothing more than an empty vessel, waiting to be filled by whatever horrors he saw fit to destroy her with.

Perhaps that was what had become of Darik, staring down at the food on his trencher as if he didn’t really see it, the line of his jaw hardened and tense, his expression cold and empty. Though the Lady Isana seemed to want him as her future husband, Elowyn felt sorry for her. She could not imagine that life with such a man would ever be happy. Elowyn shifted her gaze to Avery. Now that she knew his woeful tale, her heart broke for him. She studied his face as he sat quietly by his brother’s side. Avery was empty too, but in an innocent way. Though he of everyone at the table had the most to be bitter about, there was no trace of ill feeling about him. In a way, he was like an infant, or like the animals—aware of each moment as he lived it, without the ability to dwell on the past, or plan for the future, or engage in any kind of serious thought. He did little more than exist. Perhaps that was the key to getting through the meal. To turn off her thoughts and simply live in the moment as though there was no past, and no future, and nothing to be afraid of.

MEET JOURNEY TO AVIAD’S CHARACTERS

Sneak Peek Friday

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Every Friday on my author Facebook page I will be featuring a sneak peek from one of my books. Read it on my blog to get a longer version!  This week’s excerpt is from my upcoming novella, Into the Shadow Wood, which is expected to be released this spring.

From my belt I untied a small, worn cloth bag with the name Elowyn stitched across the front.  It still gave off a light fragrance of herbs and flowers, though that scent was finally beginning to fade.  The memory of the young girl who had given it to me did not.  She had unwittingly been caught up in this quest just as I had.  It was she who had discovered Nevon’s lost helm, bow, and arrows, and had read the signs of his final struggle written across the forest floor.  Without her, we never would have known what had become of him.  Her near death encounter with one of the Hounds had driven her into my path, and though I saved her that day, there were other things I could not protect her from.  What she found, and her dealings with me no doubt left some unintended wounds on her tender soul.  If it were possible, I would have wiped them all away and preserved her child-like innocence for a while longer.  She had thrust the bag into my hand on the day we parted ways; a gesture of affection and forgiveness.  It was the day we prepared to enter this evil wood.

What she had given me was a protection pouch, filled with dried plants and herbs that were supposed to ward off evil spirits. Many people wore them without thought, and such bags were quite common, though I had never really believed they held any power. But there was something special about this bag. Not that I had any delusions about its effectiveness against malevolent spirits—no bag of herbs would be any match for the depth of evil that resided here. It brought me comfort just the same. The floral aroma helped my mind escape to a better place; to gardens I had once known in less trying times, before the Sovereign had died and Braeden had taken his place…to meadows full of colorful wildflowers, waving greeting to me on a warm breeze. It helped me to remember the blue sky, and the sounds of the ocean, the spray on my face and the sun’s warmth on my skin. It helped me remember a world worth loving. A world worth saving.

It had become all too easy to believe that the Shadow Wood’s persistent darkness was the only thing that remained, that everything else had been swallowed into the empty void of its insatiable belly. But that common, simple little pouch was the most powerful reminder to me that it was not true. My commander had his prayers to ground his sanity. This was my connection to reality. Something real that I could feel, and smell, and grasp in my hand. And with it always came to my mind the image of a girl’s rapt little face, peering up at me with wells of blue that so readily spilled out the depths of her soul—joy, hope, forgiveness, and pain. Everything. If I could just hang onto that, there might be something left of my own soul to save if we ever escaped the Shadow Wood alive.

 

Meet Einar for the first time in Journey to Aviad, now FREE as an ebook.

MEET JOURNEY TO AVIAD’S CHARACTERS

Book 1JOURNEY TO AVIAD

The Wind Rider Chronicles Book 1

Threatening clouds and fierce storms besiege the city of Tyroc. More frequent and powerful than ordinary storms, young Elowyn, a weaver’s daughter living in the outskirts of the city, senses something disturbing and unnatural about them. READ MORE

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The Hounds of Alazoth

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Thanks to Renee Scattergood for posting an author spotlight, featuring my short story, “The Hounds of Alazoth” from the Magical Muse anthology.  (See the full post on Renee’s blog.)

This short story connects to my Wind Rider Chronicles series, depicting an event from Journey to Aviad, but from the villain’s point of view.  This is the first time it has been released outside of the anthology.  Two more of my related short stories can be found in The Dragon Tempest anthology.

 

The Hounds of Alazoth

The sun had finally sunk below the rim of the world, bathing the Deep Woods in a dark blue twilight. Sensing movement, a Hound lifted his head, turning his nose toward the wind and perking his ears forward. A massive figure was rising up from the earth, his imposing black-horned leather armor and antlered helm a familiar sight. The Master was awake.

The Hound watched his master intently as he and his brothers were roused from sleep, now alert and ready to begin their nightly roving. But this was to be no ordinary night. The Master was calling to them in the only language they could understand…guttural and primitive, from the very dawn of time. There are men in the wood. Men who belonged to their sworn enemy, Aviad, the Creator of all things.

Humans were Aviad’s most prized creation, but they were made of flesh; fragile and weak, not worthy of the high status that had been bestowed upon them. They called the Master “Lord of Destruction,” and rightly so, for since the beginning of their existence he had brought nothing but chaos and death into their lives. The Master had found no way to destroy Aviad—he was far too powerful. But the human vermin were a different matter. The Hound let out a low, angry snarl. How had they dared to cross over into the Deep Woods, the dominion of his master? From within the hound’s belly, the depths of the abyss spewed forth as fire, and he let out a smoky howl at the rising moon. His brothers followed his lead. The hunt had begun, and there would be no escape.

The Master raised his staff, leading his pack into the thick of the wood where the waning light had formed great pools of shadow. The darkness brought them into full wakefulness, sharpening their instincts and giving them clarity of sight. His nose to the ground, the Hound picked up the men’s scent. He let out a glorious howl that was sure to chill their souls if they could hear it. The pack rushed forward, excited by the smell of prey, their tongues salivating at the memory of previous kills…the taste of flesh, the aroma of fear, the shrieks of pain. They were shrieks of victory that Aviad could hear.

Far ahead, there was a flash of movement in the trees. There were three men, all wearing the rough brown robes of the Enemy. Holy men. Around them Aviad’s light glowed, making the Hounds’ sensitive eyes ache with pain. But this did not deter them, it only sharpened their anger. The Master called out to them again…the holy men are not here by chance. They had found something of importance—an ancient relic that belonged to the Enemy. A relic that had had the power to decimate the Master’s armies. It had been buried in the Deep Woods for hundreds of years in the hopes that it might never again be found. But somehow these holy men had found it. They must not be allowed to carry it out of the wood.

Bristling and growling, the pack raced even faster. The Hounds knew they would be upon the men in a matter of moments—no man or beast could match their speed, enhanced by the power of the Master’s staff. Their prey continued to run in a pathetic attempt to get away, their legs and the thick brush getting tangled in their long robes, slowing them down. Their master called out again for speed. The men were heading toward the river, the protected border of the Deep Woods which the Hounds were still unable to cross.

The Hounds were so close upon the men now that they could smell their sweat, and hear their desperate gasping for air. The Hound let out a burst of flame from his belly, scorching the trees as he passed. One of his brothers lunged and caught the slowest of the holy men, bringing him to the ground. The man cried out, but not for long. Several others joined, not to be denied the pleasure of a fresh kill.

The rest of the pack continued to pursue the remaining men. The second one fell, his screams of horror quickly silenced as he was set upon with ravenous fervor. The Master tore through the men’s clothing and their bags, but the relic was not there. He called out again. You must bring down the last of the men without fail. The pack was close on his heels now, snapping at his robes. The leading hound lunged, but the holy man jerked evasively to the right. Another leaped, his claws catching the man across the back. He screamed in pain, his brown robe turning red, but he did not stop running. He was quickly approaching the river. The Hound surged forward with all his strength, catching the man’s legs and felling him at the water’s edge. His weight was pressed upon the struggling holy man to keep him from getting away. He could not help but howl with delight that he had been the one to do his master’s bidding.

But this holy man was not screaming in fear as the others had. He was uttering something in a language the Hound could not understand, but that pained his ears. Before he knew what was happening, the man had fumbled beneath his robe and pulled out an object of such brightness that the whole wood seemed to be enveloped in the light of the sun. A searing pain stabbed through his eyes and head. He cowered from the light, yelping and whimpering, completely paralyzed. The Master was furious; the holy man was getting away. He was fording the river, his blood staining the water around him as he waded across. It was too late. He was beyond even the reach of the Master now.

The bright light faded, but the ache of its stinging power remained. A host of red glowing eyes watched through the falling darkness as their quarry disappeared into the world of men. But while they had lost their battle over the relic, there was still hope in the gathering war. A new age was about to dawn upon a complacent, sleeping world, unprepared for the onslaught their master was preparing to unleash. The Hounds were not the only beasts of long forgotten legend that would soon break out upon the present day. The Master would breach the river barrier…it was only a matter of time. The Hound lifted his nose once more to the wind. The scent of lost souls was intoxicating.

 

 

The Magical Muse 72THE MAGICAL MUSE

A Collection of Fantasy Stories

Stories of fantasy ranging from dark, to light and inspiring, bring life to this anthology.  The creatures featured throughout, both good and evil, display the devastating or wonderful personalities they were given by the authors who created them for your enjoyment.

Featuring My Short Story: “The Hounds of Alazoth”

Mythological hounds are a foreshadowing of doom for one man seeking refuge from their deadly chase. Allison D. Reid brings a tale of adventure as seen through the eyes of the hounds and their mysterious master, born from the darkness of hell.

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The Dragon TempestTHE DRAGON TEMPEST

Tales of Fantasy and Adventure

The Dragon Tempest offers a collection of short stories in a variety of fantasy genres, including dark, light, adventure, and epic. Creatures from all worlds abound: dragons, angels, centaurs, witches, gods and goddesses, and those lurking below the water’s surface. Whether you’re moved by tales of battle and bloodshed, suspense, humor, or enlightenment, The Dragon Tempest will leave you craving more from each author. Such a diversity of great fantasy tales to enjoy will leave no room for disappointment.

Featuring My Short Story: “A Bard’s Tale”

A rogue bard seeks rest from the road at a favorite tavern. Seeking a night of merriment and free ale, he finds instead an unexpected danger…and an old friend. Can a tune and a little cunning save them both?

Featuring My Other Short Story: “Birth of the Necromancer”

Alazoth and his hounds strike terror into the hearts of men. Passed down through the generations is a chilling myth about the origins of his son. Who has this child of evil grown up to be?

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