The Threshold Child by Callie Kanno

For some exciting reading, download Callie Kanno’s first novel in The Threshold Trilogy, The Threshold Child.

Adesina has been trained from childhood to serve her nation as a warrior and a spy. When she is selected to combat a group of seditious magic users, she must summon all of her abilities to defeat her enemies—including talents that have been buried in the deepest part of her.

Download The Threshold Child from Amazon.

Excerpt

Chapter One: The Bird of Prey

No one ever looked up.

For this reason, a black clothed figure was crouched in the gnarled arms of an ancient tree. In the sparse moonlight she was invisible against the background, waiting patiently for her prey. Her metallic purple eyes, the only visible feature, scanned the ground searching the darkness for every possible detail.

The minutes ticked by slowly.

The whisper of the breeze was chilled by the promise of winter, but she ignored the dropping temperature. Her intense focus even overshadowed the slight ache in her muscles from maintaining her position for an extended period of time.

Every rustle in the underbrush, every stirring of the leaves, brought her sharp eyes around in search for some sign of her quarry.

Finally, a similarly garbed figure passed beneath her tree, slinking from shadow to shadow. She felt a surge of satisfaction as she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet in preparation for the attack.

She dropped down from the branches and brought her prey to its knees before there was any time for her victim to react. She removed the hood and scarf of her opponent, revealing the pale, narrow face of a young woman with short sandy hair. Her features were harsh but blunt, giving her the brutish appearance of one who delights in violence.

The young woman looked up at the strange metallic eyes that were flecked with gold. She clenched her fists, immediately prepared to lash out, and her face contorted in an expression of pure loathing. “Adesina,” she spat.

Adesina didn’t need to ask how she had been recognized. She knew her eyes made her easily identifiable. “I hoped I would be the one to mark you, Basha.”

“I had hoped to kill you.”

Adesina didn’t doubt it. The two young women were part of a class of students training for an elite and selective military group, commonly known as the Shimat. The competition was fierce, and “accidents” happened.

Basha was an unremarkable student, but she was vindictive and unrelenting, which some teachers mistook for determination and strength of character. From the moment she had laid eyes on Adesina, some ten years ago, Basha had hated her. That hate only grew as Adesina excelled among her peers.

Adesina was unusually gifted, even for a Shimat. She had the uncanny ability to sense her surroundings and knew how to use that to her advantage. She was exceptionally agile and her endurance levels were far above normal. These traits, among others, were the reason why she had begun her training five years earlier than any other student.

Adesina reciprocated Basha’s intense dislike. Not only that, but she was aware of her own gifts and Basha’s shortcomings. It rankled Adesina’s pride to see Basha gain distinction through the misconceptions of certain instructors.

A number of sarcastic retorts rose in Adesina’s fifteen-year-old mind, but she ignored them. Basha saw the scornful quirk to Adesina’s eyebrows, and her own eyes gleamed with the desire for violent revenge.

Instead of voicing her thoughts, Adesina drew the dagger from the belt around her waist. “I have unveiled you, Shi Basha. Yield or be disgraced.”

Basha’s expression twisted as she debated whether it was worth the disgrace to defy the person she despised more than anything in the world. When she spoke, it was between clenched teeth.

“I yield.”

Adesina stepped forward so she was facing Basha’s kneeling figure and placed the edge of her blade against her enemy’s cheek.

“I mark you, so that all may know of your first failure.”

Her stroke was perhaps harder than it needed to be. Basha swore, but let it bleed freely. Adesina took a small square of white cloth from a pouch on her belt and stained it with some of Basha’s blood. She held it carefully in her hand and returned Basha’s hood and scarf to her.

Basha took them and got to her feet. “A day will come when I will make you pay for this mark. You will rue the day you came into this world.”

Adesina rolled her eyes. Basha had always tended to be melodramatic. “Come on. We have to return to the school.”

Adesina began to turn, but her eyes caught the movement of a sleek shadow several yards away. It was hard to imagine that there was anything more black than the woods at night, but something darker crouched just out of sight. Two golden orbs gleamed momentarily but then seemed to disappear altogether. When she looked closer she could see only trees.

It must have been some sort of animal, for Adesina seemed to be the only human with odd colored eyes. Given the size of the spheres, it must have been an enormous creature. There had never been any beast so large this close to the fortress.

She considered investigating further, but an impatient movement from Basha brought her head around sharply. Adesina’s learned suspicion of Basha overrode her present curiosity. Frowning to herself, Adesina continued on her way.

The autumn leaves lay thick on the ground, but the footsteps of the two young women were muted by the damp soil. They were merely two silhouettes slipping through the darkness, hidden among the crooked trees that surrounded them.

As they walked, Adesina’s mind turned back over the events of the night. It had been a surprise to be shaken from sleep and told that tonight would be the final test for their year of training. If they passed they would be eligible to advance to the next year. If not, they would be put through a remedial course of training.

They had been individually led to different parts of the forest northwest of the school and told that their one objective was to find and unveil one of their classmates. Those unveiled were to be marked by the victor.

Now Adesina and Basha emerged from the forest and approached a small camp. It consisted of two small tents set up on the hill overlooking the forest. The three instructors of Adesina’s group of students stood waiting, robed in black. In the darkness they took on the spectral appearance of the harbingers of death, and the young student felt a chill run down her spine at the sight. Beside the instructors stood a spidery device similar to a brazier, but with flames instead of coals.

Adesina looked at the faces of the men that had taught and trained her since she was five years old. They regarded her gravely as the two young women approached. She greeted them respectfully in order of seniority, bowing to each. “Shar Breyen. Shar Jareb. Shar Per.”

They bowed back. “Shi Adesina.”

Basha went through the same ceremony, but did not receive any acknowledgment in return. Her pale blue eyes smoldered even though she kept them lowered.

Breyen indicated toward the brazier. Adesina took the stained square of cloth she was holding in her hand and gently laid it on the fire. The flames licked at the corners of the cloth, blackening them and curling them as if it were contorting in agony. Adesina watched it dispassionately and wafted the smoke onto her face before stepping back again.

This was a symbolic ritual of the Shimat. The stained cloth represented the victory won, and all that the victory had cost. The sacrifice, the skill, the lessons learned. By breathing in the smoke, it all became part of you. The ritual was also a way to honor those who made you stronger.

Per nodded approvingly. “Shi Adesina, take your prisoner to the medical wing and then you may retire.”

Both students bowed again before walking past their instructors.

The hill leveled out to become flat ground after a few steps. The grass was greyish-green in color and coarse in texture. In the meager moonlight it took on a sickly appearance. This, in addition to the thin mist swirling over the ground, gave a ghostly feeling to the fortress that served as the school and training facility.

The fortress was set on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean. The great outer wall looked harsh and forbidding at night, but during the day it gave a strange sort of comfort in its solitary strength. There were no other cities or villages near the fortress; no other buildings that might call themselves neighbors. The fortress stood alone for many leagues, and it seemed to take power in that seclusion.

The massive gates stood open, which was quite unusual, but several Shimat guards compensated for the lapse of security. Three stood along the wall directly above the gates, and two more stood on the ground on either side. The others were positioned at even intervals along the wall like dark columns, upright and unmoving.

All of them wore the black uniform that Adesina and her peers had been privileged to wear for the night’s activities. Black clothing, knee-high boots, gloves, a high-collared black leather vest, and a hood and scarf that only left the eyes visible. These glittering spheres watched the two young women closely, but the guards remained otherwise still and silent.

Basha fumed inaudibly as they walked. Her burning glare was fixed on the ground and her fists were clenched at her side. When they passed through the gates, she turned to Adesina and said venomously, “I can go to the medical wing by myself.”

Adesina shrugged and walked away. Less time spent in Basha’s presence was always a good thing, and she wanted to get what rest she could before dawn.

Basha took the corridor to the left and Adesina turned right, back to their sleeping quarters.

Each of the rooms that served as sleeping quarters held ten to fifteen students. There were two or three metal washstands per room, and one large mirror on the wall in which they could thoroughly inspect the neatness of their personal appearance.

Every Shi, or student, was instilled with a strict sense of order, which carried over into every aspect of their lives. The uniform had to be meticulous, the hair combed back from the face, proper hygiene attended to, and so forth. All such rules for personal care and general cleanliness were set down in what was casually called “the code.”

Keeping this in mind, Adesina resisted the urge to simply plop into bed fully dressed in spite of her fatigue. She took off the Shimat uniform she had been given for her assignment, folded it carefully, and placed it on the small chest located at the foot of her cot.

Under normal circumstances, a student wasn’t allowed to touch such a uniform. They were only worn by full Shimat, and had to be earned. For certain tests, however, that rule was waived.

Adesina put on her sleeping uniform, unpinned her hair from its tightly braided knot, and climbed carefully into bed. With a weary expression on her face, she settled down for some much needed sleep.

 

To keep reading, download The Threshold Child from Amazon.

You can find more from Callie on her blog and Facebook.

Gethyon by Pippa Jay

Check out this adventure-filled science fiction novel from Pippa Jay: Gethyon.

Abandoned by his mother after his father’s death, Gethyon Rees feels at odds with his world and longs to travel the stars. But discovering he has the power to do so leaves him scarred for life. Worse, it alerts the Siah-dhu—a dark entity that seeks his kind for their special abilities—to his existence, and sets a bounty hunter on his tail.

When those same alien powers lead Gethyon to commit a terrible act, they also aid his escape. Marooned on the sea-world of Ulto Marinos, Gethyon and his twin sister must work off their debt to the Seagrafter captain who rescued them while Gethyon puzzles over their transportation. How has he done this? And what more is he capable of?

Before he can learn any answers, the Wardens arrive to arrest him for his crime. Can his powers save him now? And where will he end up next?

You can download Gethyon from Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Kobo.

Excerpt

“Tell me about the angels.” The plea in Gethyon’s voice forced him to put aside the issue for now. Time enough for that later.

“Not angels,” Embar said thoughtfully. “Something not of our world, perhaps.”

“Where did they come from?”

“I don’t know, exactly. They called themselves the Rion, and I assumed they were your mother’s people. They were carrying you and Callon. She was asleep, a little pink face with her red hair in curls. You were crying.” Embar gazed towards the window. “I didn’t hear any vehicle come up to the house. They were just there, at my door. The man carrying you had a long, silver staff etched with symbols. They came into the house and sat with me, and then told me my son was dead.” Embar swallowed hard, a knot of grief lodging painfully in his throat as he said the words. “He’d tried to stop a cataclysmic explosion that would have destroyed an entire planet. He managed to contain it, reduce the force of it, but it killed him.”

“And my mother?” Gethyon asked hesitantly.

“Well, they never told me and I never asked,” Embar admitted. “She must have survived the explosion because they said Solar had died before you were born. All that concerned me was Solar’s fate, not hers. And you and your sister, of course.” It had been quite a shock to learn of Solar’s death and inherit two grandchildren in the same instant.

“She might still be alive, then.”

“Perhaps.”

Gethyon’s face glowed with hope, the brightest Embar had ever seen it. The contrast to his own feelings about their mother was stark. He’d never wish ill on anyone, but he hoped they would never see her again.

“What was her name?”

“Quin.”

“Quin what?”

“I don’t know.” Embar rose, bringing any further talk to an end, tired of reliving such painful memories. He saw the barriers close in once more as the boy retreated into his private darkness. “I must finish my thesis. I have a lecture to present next week.” He gazed down at the boy, sensing his disappointment. “Gethyon, we can talk about this again another time, if you wish.”

For the first time Embar could remember, a faint smile grew on the child’s face as he stared up at his grandfather. “When?”

“After my presentation.” He patted Gethyon on the shoulder, and noted with shock the red lines that crisscrossed the boy’s arms. “You should ask Keisha to clean those for you. They must sting.”

Gethyon nodded, but remained seated on his bed as the old man left.

~ * ~

As the door closed behind his grandfather, Gethyon rose and went to the table. A large, clear octagonal crystal lay nestled in a protective bed of fabric, glittering faintly in the slivers of light that trickled beneath the edges of the black curtains. An Χ—the company emblem of the ancient Greek letter chi taken from the acronym for Crystalline Holographic Imager—was carved into one facet of the device. Gethyon traced the emblem, a rare smile touching his face. This was his one treasure, the one sure thing he had. Lifting it from its box, Gethyon clutched the CHI in his hands and activated it. A representation of the galaxy filled his room with a translucent blackness. Stars glittered and planets glowed before his eyes.

Take me away from here. He stared deep into the image, his longing to be out there burning in his chest. Take me far away.

Something within him stirred, forcing him to focus deep inside the image. Warmth flowed from his chest, through his arms and into the crystal. Suddenly, the image opened and surrounded him; the room transformed into the dark void of open space, the stars orbiting him in slow rotation, a supernova within the grasp of his free hand.

Gethyon gasped in shock and dropped the CHI device; the illusion vanished, leaving the inactive crystal gleaming at his feet. He stared at it, expecting the images to leap from the crystal again and surround him. Tentatively, he reached down for the gem and his fingers closed around it. He lifted it to his face, gazing intently into the faceted prism, turning it this way and that as if it would suddenly reveal its secret. When nothing happened, he held it at arm’s length and activated it a second time. Again, the picture rose from the CHI device and hovered above it, nothing more than a simple hologram. Not understanding the strange sensation that seemed to spill from him into the heart of the imager, he allowed it to happen again. The view expanded and enfolded him in deepest, blackest space and sparkling stars. A cloud of infinitesimal space debris drifted across his eyes like wisps of cloud, and he pushed the fingers of his free hand into it, watching as the particles dispersed around his fingers.

Marveling at the sudden magic that had brought the galaxy’s image to life, he permitted more of the energy to surge into the CHI device, forcing it when it threatened to trickle to a halt. The image expanded farther, beyond the confines of his room and out into the landscape. Something within him seemed to unlock, and glittering threads of crystal fire shot through space, a long twisting corridor stretching out to infinity. Gethyon stood gasping on the threshold, dizzy with power and exhilaration, waiting to fall into the passageway.

Sudden alarm shot through him in an icy stream; he turned, fear stinging his nerves and fiery agony pulsing in his mind. From behind him darkness deeper than space, an antithesis of light, life and warmth, billowed into his vision, swamping and consuming all before it. He tried to scream, but the sound locked in his throat, leaving him silent and helpless. He tried to release the CHI device, to banish the image and the darkness back into the gem, but a paralysis claimed him. The blackness swelled. Amorphous fingers reached for him across the millennia, seeking to claim him. Power bled from him as the darkness drained his energy, sucked the life from him.

Pain exploded in his hand to the sound of splintering, and the vision shattered. Gethyon stood frozen. Shards of the CHI device fell from a hand dripping in crimson. He screamed as the darkness swallowed him.

To follow the rest of Gethyon’s journey, visit Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Kobo.

To find more from Pippa Jay, visit her website, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.

Zoo by Tara Elizabeth

With nearly 100 reviews averaging over 4 stars, Tara Elizabeth’s Zoo is definitely worth a read.

A chronicle of my time living in a zoo . . . I’m not really sure where to start, and you may have trouble believing me even as I tell you my story. My family did. They laughed the first time I told them, so now I just say it was all a crazy dream. You see, I died in a totally preventable car accident . . . or so I thought. When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to discover that I had been resurrected into the year 2282 and, just as unbelievably, was locked up in a zoo! A HUMAN ZOO! Oh wait, I mean the People’s Past Anthropological Center.

The Global Government created the Centers because all of the different cultures of the world had, over centuries of time, slowly absorbed into one uniform culture. Everything and everybody felt the same, and the world didn’t like it. So, to help the people of 2282 find cultures they thought worthy to live their lives by, they used time travel to zap the people of the past into the future. They created enclosures to house their live human exhibits. And that’s what happened to me. I became a research project, a source of entertainment. I was a prisoner who was over two hundred years away from my family and friends.

Most of my time in the enclosure was spent trying to escape. I also made friends, lost friends, fell in love, was betrayed, was held captive within captivity, and lots of other fun stuff. There were some shocking moments and some devastating moments . . . It’s a lot to recount, but I’ll try my best to tell you all about my time travel . . . PAST, PRESENT, and FUTURE.

I’m Emma, by the way.

You can download Zoo from Amazon.

Excerpt

DAY ONE – THE ENCLOSURE

When I woke up, I saw green, lots and lots of green. There were green plants, green trees, and green moss covered rocks. Underneath me was a cushion of green grass. I heard rushing water coming from somewhere nearby, but the pounding in my head dulled the pleasant sound. They drugged me, and my body did not like whatever they gave me. I stayed stretched out on the soft carpet of grass, trying to adjust to my surroundings.

“Hi there! About time you woke up,” a breezy, female voice chirped.

I slowly rolled my head in the direction of the voice. A girl about my age was sitting on a boulder staring at me. Her blonde hair was wild, like she took the time to tease it but used a twig to do it. Her eyes were a cool blue like a clear sky. Her dress was plain. It was made from what looked like burlap or some other horrible fabric (if you could even call it fabric). It looked completely out of place on her.

I was thinking about how awful it would be to wear something like that while I was scratching at my own skin. And sure enough, I had the same horrible fabric on. I was so mortified. I was wearing a brown sack that came to about mid-thigh, and when I checked, I discovered that I also had on tiny, bikini-cut panties. I was more of a boy short kind of girl.

“Where am I?” I asked the blonde girl.

“Didn’t they show you the film?”

“Yeah, but . . . ”

“Well, you’re in your new home.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and I almost expected her to start smacking on some gum.

I sat up and looked around. There was a small jungle toward the back of the enclosure with the rest of the area being flat land. The jungle was thick with ferns and trees. I could see a hint of a waterfall over some low hanging vines. At the front of the enclosure, on the flat land, I could see a small vegetable garden, a fruit tree, and a cow tied to a post. Half of the space was surrounded by a rock-wall, and the rest was encased by a glass-dome.

“This isn’t anything like where I came from,” I said aloud to myself and to the girl.

“Yeah, me neither. All I can figure is that they want to experiment by putting us in different environments and then seeing what happens.” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “So, what’s your name?”

“Emma David. You?”

The girl spewed a ton of information at me all at once. “Janice Hall. Grew up in Manhattan. Got into partying young. Overdosed on cocaine in a nightclub. Been in here alone for about a month. It’s good to have some company. I started talking to the cow a few days ago. Can you believe that? They could have at least put me in one of these things with some good neighbors or something.”

She completely overwhelmed me, and I didn’t know what to say in response. The thing that stuck out the most about her little speech was that she said she had overdosed. She looked too young to have had an overdose. “How old are you?” I finally asked her.

“Sixteen,” she answered nonchalantly, while inspecting her cuticles. Then she dropped down next to me and grabbed my hand to have a look at my nails. She was behaving like a monkey. I could recall watching them at a regular zoo. They would sit and pick at each other, searching for bugs or whatever nasty things inhabited their fur. It made me uncomfortable, but I was so focused on figuring her out, that I let her continue for a while longer.

Janice was so young and beautiful, and she was probably wealthy if she grew up in Manhattan. I’ve seen plenty of famous socialites on cable TV hit rock bottom before they hit 18. What a waste. Drugs were one thing that I never messed with, and she was a prime example of why.

“What year are you from?” I could tell she wasn’t from my time, even though we were dressed the same. There was something about her that was different, besides the New York accent.

She continued to look over my cuticles. I let her because it seemed to calm her down, which also helped my own nervous energy. She answered, “I was born in 1962. They ‘saved’ me in 1978.” She made air quotes with her fingers as she said the word “saved.” Then she asked me, “What about you?”

The time travel crap was starting to weird me out. I felt like my head was going to explode, but I held myself together long enough to answer her. “Um, I’m 17. I was born in 1995 and they ‘saved’ me in 2013 . . . This is crazy!” Nope. I couldn’t keep it together after all. Why was I sitting there making small talk with a strange girl? I needed to get the hell out of my new prison.

I ran over to the rock wall, searching for a door. Nothing. After I reached the glass front of our enclosure, where the public would be observing us from the other side, I beat my fists against the hard surface. I screamed and screamed and screamed.

Then, I screamed some more.

“Tried that already. It’s no use. Besides, the park’s not even open. Nobody’s here, silly,” Janice told me. She stood behind me, next to the cow, with her hand on her hip. I noticed she had fashionably tied some kind of vine around her waist to accentuate her curves under the hideous sack dress.

I didn’t care what she said, so I ignored her and kept beating the glass wall from one side all the way to the other. I went on that way until I reached a point where I could see into the enclosure next door. What I saw was unexpected.

To read the rest, download Zoo from Amazon.

Find more from Tara on her website, Twitter and Facebook.

Blood and Iron by Jon Sprunk

Blood and Iron, the first book in the epic fantasy series The Book of the Black Earth, is like a sword-and-sorcery Spartacus set in a richly-imagined world.

It starts with a shipwreck following a magical storm at sea. Horace, a soldier from the west, had joined the Great Crusade against the heathens of Akeshia after the deaths of his wife and son from plague. When he washes ashore, he finds himself at the mercy of the very people he was sent to kill, who speak a language and have a culture and customs he doesn’t even begin to understand.

Not long after, Horace is pressed into service as a house slave. But this doesn’t last. The Akeshians discover that Horace was a latent sorcerer, and he is catapulted from the chains of a slave to the halls of power in the queen’s court. Together with Jirom, an ex-mercenary and gladiator, and Alyra, a spy in the court, he will seek a path to free himself and the empire’s caste of slaves from a system where every man and woman must pay the price of blood or iron. Before the end, Horace will have paid dearly in both.

Download Blood and Iron from Amazon.

Excerpt

Jirom reeled back with blood pouring into his right eye. He blinked it away as he retreated. He blocked a hard jab and grimaced as the iron spikes protruding from his opponent’s gloves gouged long furrows down his forearm.

Boos rained down from the stands where workaday freemen of the empire stomped and swilled from clay mugs. Their betters sat in shaded wooden boxes along the top of the tiny arena, fanned by slaves and served wine from silver chalices. Jirom would’ve killed for a flagon of beer right now.

A blow to the ribs knocked the air from his lungs and left stinging gashes along his side. Jirom covered up and circled away, and the crowd continued to make its displeasure known. His opponent was called the Lion. He was ferocious, young, and as strong as his namesake. With his light complexion and proud, hawkish nose, he could have passed for a member of the upper caste except for his iron collar and the sigil—three diamonds joined in a triangular pattern—branded on the right side of his face which marked him as a permanent slave, unable to ever regain his freedom again. It was possible his family had sold him into slavery as a child, or he’d insulted the wrong person. There were many ways to end up a slave in Akeshia, as Jirom well knew. Most gladiator bouts—whether fought with sword, spear, or bare-handed—didn’t last long because the fighters were criminals or slaves who had sinned against their masters. They usually died their first time out, fed to the more experienced gladiators. But the Lion was a different breed. Jirom didn’t know his story, save that he’d been brought down from Chiresh for these games. That meant money had been invested in him—a lot of it.

Jirom blocked a right hook which would have caved in his head, and more blood poured down his arms. As he stepped back from a straight-armed jab, his shoulders hit the rough boards of the arena’s eight-foot-high partition. A hard punch to the gut nearly forced him to drop his guard, but he saw the follow-up to the head and slipped away. Something wet and sticky struck his back. Rotten pomegranates and oranges landed around him, making pulpy divots in the sand. Jirom looked into the stands. In one of the private boxes, a portly, middle-aged man with deep brown skin was talking to an equally portly, slightly older patrician. The first man was Jirom’s owner, Thraxes, so engrossed in conversation that he wasn’t even watching the bout.

A grunt warned Jirom in time to cover up before a powerful clout smashed against his temple. He staggered, his vision fading into black and white spots, before righting himself. Through the speckled haze, he saw the Lion drawing back for another blow. Jirom slipped past a punch aimed at his chin and pushed off to make some space between them. More jeers rocked the arena.

“Come on, you dog!” someone in the stands taunted. “Fight!”

Jirom slapped away another punch and continued his slow retreat around the pit. The familiar twinge in his lower back from an old injury climbed up his spine, making every movement that much more painful. He glanced up to the private boxes at the wrong moment, and his opponent charged with a hoarse bellow. Jirom covered his face as he backpedalled, but a couple punches got through, drawing more blood. His feet got tangled up and he fell hard on his backside. A kick to the back as he rolled over sent jangling shocks of pain down his legs. His opponent stood over him with arms raised to the crowd, and the onlookers showered him with adoration. Thraxes was still engrossed in his discussion.

Jirom crawled to his knees as the Lion paraded around the arena. His opponent didn’t give him time to fully recover before charging at him again. Jirom circled away to his left, always the left, and more boos came down from the stands. The people wanted to see death.

His or mine, it doesn’t matter whose.

Another hard blow almost knocked Jirom down again, but he kept his footing. The Lion came after him, relentless and seemingly inexhaustible. If anything, his attacks were getting stronger and more confident. Jirom glanced up. Thraxes was now standing in front of his seat. With a bored expression, the slave owner yawned and scratched his ample belly. That was the signal.

About time, you fat bastard.

The Lion unleashed another straight punch with a growl. His eyes widened as Jirom caught the fist with an open hand. Air exploded from the Lion’s mouth as Jirom drove his other fist into the younger man’s ribs. A punch to the back of the ear dropped the Lion to his knees, and the next one laid him out flat with blood trickling down his branded cheek.

Jirom felt the rage churning inside him like an ill wind. Breathing through his mouth because his nose was clogged with blood, he knelt down and wrapped both arms around the Lion’s neck. With a heave, he twisted until he heard the spine snap with a sharp pop. The crowd roared with approval.

Cheers and a few copper coins fell from the audience as Jirom walked to the gate, but he ignored them. As he traveled down the dark tunnel to the slave cells, scores of feet pounded on the boards above his head.

To discover what happens next, download Blood and Iron from Amazon.

Find more from Jon on his website, Twitter and Facebook.

Kaybree versus the Angels (Book 1 of Kaybree the Angel Killer) by Harrison Paul

Let’s start Friday off with a FREE ebook: Kaybree versus the Angels from Harrison Paul.

Kaybree has grown up hearing stories of the Angels, mythical beings who used to defend Nordgard from the creatures of the forest. After leaving mankind without guidance for centuries, they returned fifteen years ago, leaving a fiery swath of destruction.

When Kaybree is called to the outpost by the forest, home to her mother’s mysterious Vormund Order, she stumbles into the latest Angel attack. Soon she learns that she has the unique power to fight them: the ability to transform into a radiant being of fire and lightning.

As she begins to receive visions from Angelic messengers, she delves deeper into her mother’s organization. She starts to wonder: why would Angels, holy messengers of God, attack people? Every answer she finds only sparks more questions. Because Vormund holds a deadly secret—one that could change Nordgard and the human race forever.

You can download Kaybree versus the Angels for free from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and Smashwords.

Excerpt

If the bards could be believed, Kant Vakt was a magical place, the site of my mother’s great battle with the Angels, where gallant warriors wielded the ancient relics in mankind’s defense.  But bards’ tales had a reputation of being slippery, told with a wink and a nod, stretching the truth to impress girls with a clever song.  

When I first arrived at the city, I had the haunting feeling that this time, the bards were right.

I stood on the deck of the ship as the Sea Pilgrim approached the docks of Kant Vakt.  Icy wind whipped at my cloak and dress, making my scarf to flap in the breeze.  I leaned on the railing, gazing out at my mother’s city.  The Sydstrom Channel ran alongside the main road, and dozens of arched stone bridges connected the two sides.  Oarsmen rowed their longships through the channel, carrying messages and cargo from one end of the city to the other.

The smells of sea brine and pine mingled in the air with the scents of chimney smoke and roasting meat.  A carriage drawn by two rangir with long antlers rolled along the cobblestone street, but the crowd of people was sparse.  Having come from the capital, I’d expected more of a welcoming party.  I looked over at the far end of the city, toward the dense foliage of the forest.  The thick cluster of Nordgren spruces was laden with snow, and blocked my view of the world beyond, where unseen horrors could be lurking.

The border wall came into view, or what was left of it.  High stone watchtowers with crownlike tops dotted the borders by the forest.  The ruins of the city walls remained where they stood, warped stone and eroded fragments that covered the expanse between towers.  This was the Kant Vakt of the stories.  Fifteen years ago, the walls had been burned away in a brilliant flash of white fire, pieces of stone exploding and raining down on the city.  I shuddered thinking about it.  The walls had never been rebuilt—probably because the Angels could just destroy them again if they wanted to.

I remembered my mother’s letter.  I clutched the parchment close, to keep the ink from smearing.  Not that it would have mattered.  I’d read the letter enough times to recite it in my sleep.  My mother had never sent a letter directly to me, penned in her scribe’s own hand, so I had to make sure I wasn’t reading it wrong.  It was a summons to Kant Vakt.

“In Nordgard, Kaybree, everyone works,” my mother had told me each time she’d come to visit.  “Peasants labor in the fields.  Artisans craft in their workshops.  Even kings and princes are expected to undergo rigorous schooling in their youth, followed by an approved apprenticeship.  Idleness is not permitted, and all must learn their place.  Mine is to defend our borders.  Yours is to study at this sagekeep.”

Yet after sending me from the longship ports of Arleon to the frigid tundra of Nordgren to the eastern border of Holmgarde, she had never allowed me to even set foot in her city.  Sometimes her excuse was my health, since I had a rare disease and needed special blood treatments weekly.  Other times she would say that it was too much of a risk to travel to Kant Vakt, because I might get caught in the next attack.  So I hadn’t asked for a few years, and had grown content to let her visit when she found the chance.

What had changed now?

I disembarked from the ship, stepping out onto wooden docks that seemed to shift as I walked.  Maybe my sense of balance was still thrown off by the sea voyage.  I looked around at the people, but didn’t recognize anyone.  My mother’s letter had told me she’d send her assistant to find me, but no one came forward to introduce themselves.

Of course, I thought.  The ship had arrived late, and she probably hadn’t bothered to track its progress.  I could have a message sent, but knowing her, something of vital importance to defending Nordgard would take precedence.  I would have to go straight to her tower at the sagekeep, and let the porters bring my chests of clothes and other belongings up later.

I waved to an oarsman on the channel and stepped into his longship.  Its wooden frame was peaked on the ends, and seemed to glide on the water like a swan.  It only had six benches for rowing, and was likely bought from a fisherman to use on the channel.

“Where to?” he asked.  He wore a heavy gray cloak and had arms of corded muscle.  Another bench was occupied by a younger man, his hands tight on the oars.

“The sagekeep,” I said, handing him a few coins.  Without a word, he took the coins and began rowing.  We passed along the main road, where rangir trotted along with nobles’ carriages in tow.  Other longships wove around us in the water, more agile and practical in the city than the newer ships with their towering masts and large cargo holds.  The ride took less time than I’d expected, and before I knew it, I was stepping onto the steep slope and toward the sagekeep.

I reached the outer courtyard and gazed up at the soaring figure.  The sagekeep of Kant Vakt was legendary.  Since it had nearly been demolished by the attack of fifteen years ago, the sages had commanded that we build it up again, a fortress that the creatures of the forest would never overthrow.  My mother said it was the Angels who destroyed the city, but the sages still said the dark denizens of the forest were responsible.  Now that I was here, I could find out for myself.

Two towers flanked the vaulted keep.  Arched black spires reached into the skies, their tops lost in the gray clouds, and the entire southern wall was covered in intricate designs.  A great circular window was placed at the top of the keep, giving it the appearance of an eye watching over the city.  A statue of Giles the Philosopher, the first of the sages, stood at the top, his granite face turned south toward the forest.

I passed a pair of armored guards through the double doors of the sagekeep, entering the high-ceilinged entrance chamber.  It opened into a hall that stretched as far as I could see, and voices and footsteps echoed off of its ceiling like the inside of an underground cavern.  This was my mother’s fortress, where she’d earned the warrior’s surname of Staalvoss, or “steel fox.”

 

To continue reading, download the entire ebook for free on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and Smashwords.

Also check out the second and third books of the series: My Very Own Witch Hunter and  Girl of Fire and Lightning. The latest versions of all three books are available on Amazon, and soon will be available on Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Smashwords, and Apple as well.  Book 1 is free on all sites, and Books 2 and 3 are $2.99.  Book 4 (Steel Fox) will be released this summer.

You can find more from Harrison on his website, Twitter, Facebook, Wattpad and Goodreads. 

Disciple Part IV by L. Blankenship

I’m excited to be a part of the book tour for L. Blankenship’s Disciple Part IV!

Kate can’t avoid the simple truth any longer; as much as she loves Kiefan, he’s now the king and his duties leave him precious little time for her and their newborn son. Kate’s husband Anders, the ne’er-do-well knight, is the one who kisses her cheek every morning and soothes the baby to sleep on his shoulder.

Kiefan’s protective jealousy still casts a shadow over her life. He would gladly throw Anders to the wolves if it will keep alliance negotiations from collapsing. Their homeland desperately needs these allies against the invading Empire. The kingdom barely survived the first wave of the enemy’s monstrous army and more is to come.

But Kate can’t stand by and let Anders become a victim — or let Kiefan suspect she’s falling in love with her husband.

On sale now at Amazon, B&N and  more retailers.

New to Disciple?

The Half-Omnibus collects the first three parts into one meaty ebook:  Amazon, B&N and other retailers.

Or try Disciple, Part I for only 99 cents: Amazon, B&N, and other retailers.

 

Excerpt

When she discovered she was pregnant with Prince Kiefan’s child, Kate had to marry. Her friend Anders volunteered, claiming it would be strictly a marriage of convenience. Over the last several months, Kate has come to question both his feelings and her own — and worries what protective, jealous Kiefan would do…

Rafe burbled against my shoulder. I tossed a quartered log down by the hearth and lifted my son in both hands. “Good-morn, sweetling. Your fourth Saint-day now — what shall we do this time? We’ll go to the disciple’s dance at noon. You’ll get to see everyone during the meal, I’m sure. You were everyone’s favorite last week. But what to do this morning?”

He turned his head, and it lolled to one side. Anders leaned in to kiss his chubby cheek, and Rafe’s mouth gaped open. Meaning to smile, I was sure.

“Come and watch the horses,” Anders said.

“He loves the horses.” I settled him back on my shoulder. “He always kicked when I was riding.”

“Of course he did.”

I looked up; Anders’ flaxen crest hung to one side, loose, and a smile tucked up the corner of his mouth. His hand touched my arm and he leaned closer to kiss my cheek. I turned against his scratchy stubble to kiss him back and slipped one arm around him. A squeeze, warm and close, smelling of horses.

Love him while he’s here. My throat tightened, of a sudden. Anders’ arm loosened, but I kept my grip on him. He hugged me again, easily persuaded, and nuzzled against my temple in place of a question.

So easy to kiss him, if I dared, to be the wife he should have. I wanted to, Mother have mercy. If only Kiefan had seen something in the duchesses. If only he’d sounded more glad to try —

Anders’ mouth touched mine, gently tipping my face up. My breath caught, my heart skipped a beat in fear. I pulled back, my arm around him stiffening to an arm’s length. He went still, tracking me with the calm, unruffled gaze he used on skittish fillies.

“I’ll not put you in danger,” I said. Until I knew Kiefan could be content in a marriage.

Anders’ gentleness shifted to resolve. “I’m not afraid of him.”

I heard a door open; Will was awake. “Let him find a bride,” I got out before Will shuffled into the kitchen. He tossed out muttered greetings, rubbing his eyes.

Anders shot me a measuring glance before he cuffed his brother and started up the talk of horses. It would have to do until we had another chance to talk. Rafe gurgled against my shoulder, fussed a little. “We’ll watch the horses this morning,” I told him.

 

To read the rest, purchase Disciple, Part IV from Amazon, B&N and  more retailers.

New to Disciple?

The Half-Omnibus collects the first three parts into one meaty ebook:  Amazon, B&N and other retailers.

Or try Disciple, Part I for only 99 cents: Amazon, B&N, and other retailers.