He'd quickly selected the foredeck, wanting to stay out of the way but still able to observe the sea. Omen was worn out by the effort of just climbing the stairs, but he enjoyed the cloudless sky, the salty air, and the energetic bustle on board. Watching the sailors going about their work, he spotted Tyrin climbing the rigging. Omen wasn't certain if he was trying to get a better view of their surroundings or chasing after the pint-sized monkey, who managed to keep himself well out of reach of the cats. Carrying a small bag filled with supplies, the little monkey scurried up to the crow's nest and the ginger-haired man on watch.
Looks like he got over his fall.
Templar had assured Omen that young Terald had been unhurt and had insisted on resuming his duties. Further, Templar went on, the group had decided to cease worrying about Tyrin going up and down the ropes.
"Couldn't stop the little bugger if we tried; besides he climbs nearly as well as that pet monkey," Templar had said. Omen had accepted Templar's words as metaphorical, but staring at the little monkey swinging from the crow's nest by his long fingers, Omen couldn't help feeling uneasy about Tyrin's escapades. The monkey held on with both hands and feet and his long prehensile tail. Tyrin just had his tiny claws.
Omen looked over at Dev who'd seated himself on the other side of Tormy, legs stretched out as he leaned against a wooden crate. He diligently wrote into the bonding book on his lap. His turn to babysit, I guess. Omen eyed the book with annoyance, wondering what Dev could be writing.
"Surely you've already told my mother everything there is to say," he groused. "You can't possibly have anything more to tell her."
Dev's lips twitched upward as he continued to write. "You are correct," he agreed mildly. "I don't think she'll ever use the term 'excruciating detail' around me again."
Omen blinked at him in shock. "You're purposely annoying my mother by writing nonsense to her?"
"Oh, we passed annoying days ago," Dev replied.
Omen was torn between amusement and alarm. "Generally people avoid annoying my mother."
"I did tell you, I'm very disobedient." Dev nodded firmly. "I can be quite difficult — she knew that when she hired me."
Omen clicked his tongue. Have to admit that makes me feel a lot better about the spying. He could imagine the look on his mother's face when Dev regaled her with the never-ending commentary supplied by Tormy and Tyrin.
Omen spotted Kadana crossing the deck at a brisk pace, and he waved toward his grandmother in greeting.
"You look like you could use this." She held out a small leather wineskin.
"Scales, no!" Omen shook himself, waking the giant cat again.
"Is we being there yet?" Tormy purred and chewed the air in an exaggerated yawn.
Omen patted the cat's furry shoulder. "Go back to your nap, Tormy."
"It'll be a few days yet, fuzz-face," Kadana said, scanning the horizon and the moderately turbulent sea, "before we hit the port of Khreté."
She loosened the cork of the wineskin. "After wrestling with Urgolath, we had to find a better crossing. Shalonie and Haptis plotted a new course for us." She placed the wineskin down on the deck within reach of Omen's hands. "You should take this. It's an herbal brew. Mégeira brewed it for you. She swears it will restore you."
Omen had his doubts. "Psionics zapped my energy. I'm not seasick or hungover."
"Mégeira grew up on Xelos." Kadana looked at him as if she expected him to know what that meant. "It's the Island of Witches. The Corsairs gave Eradiadne and her coven a place to live after they were forcefully driven from Kharakhan."
Omen frowned. "I've met Eradiadne. She did crystal magic at the Winter Fest. Nice lady." He shook his head. "Why would someone want to hurt her?"
"Kharakhan is sick with magic," Kadana explained. "It is densely ensconced in some of the wildest magic in the world. Creatures, artifacts, people who wield magic, people who abuse their powers. That makes the regular population nervous. They are very superstitious."
"Like my mother?"
"Something like that."
"But you're a Kharakhian. Magic doesn't seem to bother you." He took the wineskin, uncorked it and sniffed at the contents.
Bergamot. Cedar. Black cherry. Pleasant. Doubt it'll do me any good though.
"Unlike so many of my friends and children, I have no magical talents," Kadana told him. "I came to terms with that a long time ago."
"How?" He couldn't imagine living without magic.
"I stuck a sword in a wizard who had been terrorizing my village," Kadana said nonchalantly. "If it bleeds, I can cut it down. Magic or no magic. That's all."
"What if you can't stick a sword in it?" Omen gestured to the fierce ocean beyond.
"Can't fight the seasons," Kadana mused, "even if they change on us. It's what seasons do — we're supposed to adapt. If summer decides to act like autumn, we will just pretend it's autumn." She gave him a meaningful look. "Unless there is something you want to tell me about the seasons that might shed some light on . . ."
"I don't know what I can safely say," he admitted, finally.
"Omen," she said his name with an edge, "I know Indee, and how her mind works. As long as you don't refuse your quest you should be fine speaking about it. Now, I understand the Autumn Gate is open."
Omen nodded sheepishly.
"So she hexed you — or rather Kyr — to force you to complete the quest no matter what," Kadana probed. "You have to rescue Khylar, who is in the Autumn Lands for some reason."
"And if Omen refuses, even merely says he won't, the hex activates," Dev volunteered, looking up from his bonding book.
"Hey!" Omen exclaimed in warning, worried that Dev's words might trigger the hex.
"The hex doesn't react to me — or anyone else. Only those of you who were in the room when it was cast — so you, Kyr and the cats," Dev pointed out. "As long as none of you refuse, you're fine — unless you take too long. That would probably be bad too."
Omen didn't understand. "And how do you . . ."
"I'm a Machelli," Dev answered. "We know about hexes."
"Machellis also know about all sorts of other things," Kadana added. "So tell us what you know about Khylar and the Autumn Lands."
"Indee's family on her mother's side is faerie from the Teyledrine Court," Dev swiftly supplied, as if he'd been waiting to be asked. "The current keeper of the Autumn Gate is the king of the Teyledrine. That's how they were able to take Khylar through the Autumn Gate — but why they took him, I don't know. And we can't assume they're done with whatever they're doing — or that they closed the Gate behind them. It may stand open, letting—"
"Letting all manner of things into our world and elbowing aside the emissaries of summer." Kadana looked at Omen. "As Shalonie said, the Gates aren't supposed to stay open — only one night a season. And Autumn has some nasty inhabitants."
"I just have to make things . . ." Omen searched for the most innocuous word. "Right. I have to make things right."
Kadana laughed out loud. "That instinct isn't one you got from my family or your mother's lineage, and certainly not from that Night-dwelling god-creature Cerioth. Must be pure Daenoth." She leaned down and patted Tormy's head. "It suits you though. You and your cat could be heroes. I like the ring of that."
Omen didn't know if she was making fun of him.
"Will you help us?" he thought to ask.
"I think a little trouble is good for Indee, if I'm perfectly honest," Kadana said. "But, as is ever the case, her troubles spell far greater troubles for innocent folk who can't defend themselves." She glanced at Dev. "And that's why Avarice sent you along, to make sure this gets done expediently."
Dev's mouth twitched, ever non-committal. From some hidden pocket, the young man had dug out a large-toothed ivory comb, and he wordlessly busied himself working the knots out of Tormy's tail.
What exactly does she mean by expediently?
"We'll be in Khreté soon." Kadana looked back at her helmsman. "This mig
ht not sound like the most rational advice, but if you are going to go through with this — listen to Kyr. The next time Kyr says a fish has a sword, you can be damned certain that a fish is going to have a sword. The gods get cranky when we ignore the words of a prophet."
Omen gulped.
Kadana laughed again. "And no matter what happens don't take it all too seriously. If you forget to laugh, none of the work and sacrifice will have been worth it." She patted Tormy's head again and walked away.
Khreté.
He wondered what waited for them. Kharakhan had been a place of mystery to him. His parents had told him stories of the strange magic that infused the land, and the violence of the Kharakhians was legendary. How quickly would they get to the Mountain of Shadow? How much longer could Kyr stand the hex? And where was Khylar?
Omen had an irrational thought of wanting to punch Khylar in the face the moment he saw him. "And that's for my brother and my friends!" In his daydream, Khylar went down in one strike. The thought made him smile.
"Won't be long now." Templar had moved next to him at the railing.
"Never did ask." Omen realized that there were still a lot of unanswered questions. "Have you been to Kharakhan before?"
"A couple of times," Templar said with a smirk. "It's just full of unicorn poop and bad stew."
"Hope those are unrelated." Omen thought he heard Dev laugh at that.
"Unicorn &*%$!" Tyrin tittered from somewhere unseen.
"I was there for the coronation," Templar said quietly.
"Khylar's?"
"That must have been magnificent," Dev cut in.
"There were . . . complications." Templar grasped the rail with both hands and fell silent.
Aren't there always.
Omen stared at the waves parting before them, blues and greens topped with tiny whitecaps and caressed by the sparkling sun. He took in a deep lungful of fresh, salty air.
They would arrive in a new city, in a new land, on a new continent soon. Untold complications lay ahead. A spark of exhilaration ignited in Omen's stomach.
"I don't know what's coming," he said quietly to himself. "But with this group, it's bound to be fun."
The story continues
Follow Omen and the gang into Kharakhan and beyond as the tale unfolds in
THE HOLLOW SEASON
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Thank you!
Carol
The day our first book came out, I was diagnosed with cancer. A few months later it had reached stage 4 despite the treatment I was getting (ironically "radiation therapy"). I'm now in chemo, and it seems to be working to shrink the tumors. However, the entire thing has taken a horrific toll on my body. There is no way I would have been able to get through the last few months without the aid of a number people that I would dearly love to thank.
First and foremost, my parents: they have taken me into their home and have become my full-time caretakers. I honestly don't know what I would do without them. They have been so patient and loving, and have gone above the call of duty to keep me going day to day. They are genuinely beautiful people.
Next, I'd like to thank my siblings and I'm including Camilla in that number. Camilla has been so much a part of mine and my family's lives that we all consider her part of the family. Camilla, my younger sister and my older brother have taken turns flying across the country to stay with me and give my poor parents a bit of rest in their caretaker duties whenever possible. And my younger brother has taken it upon himself to pack up all my belongings in my home and put them all into storage for me so that I need not worry about my old house. The four of them have been a fount of strength for me, and I cannot thank them enough for all they do. And let me add a thank you to the various spouses who have put up with the long absences of their partners.
I'd also like to thank my coworkers and students. They have all reached out to me in various ways and offered their prayers and support —- one of my co-workers took over the task of making cat food for me (my cat is on a special diet). Another started a write-in campaign with my students. I received countless cards and letters from them that have touched my heart in ways I can't describe. They're all wonderful people.
And last, I'd like to thank the clergy members who have visited me, the numerous relatives, my beautiful nieces and nephew, and the total strangers who have offered to pray for me throughout this entire ordeal. I think I have people from every major faith praying for me all over the world. When you go through something like this, you really see what an amazing world we live in.
Camilla and I are going to keep writing Of Cats And Dragons as long as we can. We have so many stories to tell, and I'm going to fight with all I have in me to keep on telling them. And if I stumble along the way, I know Camilla will always be beside me to pick up the banner and keep going.
❖
Camilla
A lot of people stepped up when the unthinkable happened.
Carol's diagnosis came the day NIGHT'S GIFT was released, so we never even had a moment to celebrate that wasn't under the shadow of this horrible cancer. Since then, there have been many ups and downs (more downs than ups, if I am totally honest). But we've hung in there, and we've continued the series — which we love.
Carol has been strong and determined. She is the warrior I've always known her to be, but the enemy she is battling is fierce and powerful.
We are hopeful. But this is real and terrifying.
Some great friends came to my rescue these last months. I have experienced deep loss, but what looms here is beyond my ability to cope with all alone.
My husband, P.J., has been more than terrific: The long conversations about the meaning of it all. Taking care of things at home when I fly up north to spend time with Carol. And the insistence on the promise that, no matter what happens, I won't break. And on top of all of that, he continues to support our work — as an editor, a story doctor, and the exquisite narrator of our audiobooks. I could not do any of this without him.
Carol's parents and siblings, all of whom are incredible — I am so grateful and humbled that they consider me family.
Bonita, who understands and lifts me up, even when pushing the next werewolf book back causes her sleepless nights.
The Barry girls (though they are now also Campbells and Fraenkles), who are only a phone call away and have not forgotten our shared history.
Fran and Nicole, who are the best kind of friends in a crisis.
Andonia, who magically appeared the second she was needed, and who got me through a few very scary days with unwavering love and deep, deep faith.
And we want everyone to know that this is not the end OF CATS AND DRAGONS. After SUMMER'S FALL, Carol and I have two more complete books that are now being edited, and a handful of partially completed manuscripts. We also have over 250 story fragments, short stories, outlines, dialogues and scenes. We have a timeline that reaches over generations in our story world. We have been working on the world OF CATS AND DRAGONS for over thirty years. There's a lot there. We have a plan.
I am deeply committed to sharing our stories because that is what I can do to honor our friendship. We love these characters so much, and since we made the decision to share them — that is what will happen.
There will be more Tormy. There will be more Omen. And Kyr. And Tyrin. There will be more. . .
❖
We also want to thank all of our friends who listened to the tale of the tale unfolding, and threw nothing but positive energy and love our way.
And a big thanks to Team Tormy and everyone who keeps asking, "What's next?"
Get in touch
caroleleever.deviantart.com
Twitter: @CamillaOchlan
Instagram: instagram.com/camillaochlan/
Blog: https://seethingbrain.wordpress.com
Or write to us at:
[email protected]
About the authors
Carol E. Leever:
Carol E. Le
ever, a college professor, has been teaching Computer Science for many years. She programs computers for fun, but turns to writing and painting when she wants to give her brain a good work out.
An avid reader of science fiction and fantasy, she's also been published in the Sword and Sorceress anthologies, and has recently gotten into painting illustrations and book covers. A great lover of cats, she also manages to work her feline overlords into her writing, painting and programming classes often to the dismay of her students.
Camilla Ochlan:
Owner of a precariously untamed imagination and a scuffed set of polyhedral dice (which have gotten her in trouble more than once), Camilla writes fantasy and science fiction. Separate OF CATS AND DRAGONS, Camilla has written the urban fantasy WEREWOLF WHISPERER series (with Bonita Gutierrez), the mythpunk noir THE SEVENTH LANE and, in collaboration with her husband, written and produced a number of short films, including the suburban ghost story DOG BREATH and the recent 20/ 20 HINDSIGHT. An unapologetic dog lover and cat servant, Camilla lives in Los Angeles with her husband actor, audiobook narrator and dialect coach P.J. Ochlan, three sweet rescue dogs and a bright orange Abyssinian cat.
Want more?
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SUMMER'S FALL is the third in the OF CATS AND DRAGONS series. If you didn't get a chance to read book 1 (NIGHT'S GIFT) and book 2 (RADIATION), here are some links that will get you those books for free.
NIGHT'S GIFT: Click here to download.
RADIATION: Click here to download.
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And, as Tormy would say, that is being greatlynessness!
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