Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1)

by Karissa Laurel

  I slumped against the tree and rubbed my face. I was tired, and my heart felt as though it had been dragged through broken glass. Thunder rumbled overhead and a warm, gentle rain spilled over us.

  “Is that you?” he asked.

  “I can’t help it. It’s tied to my—”

  “Emotions,” he said, finishing my thought. “I guess I should be thankful you didn’t hit me with a bolt of lightning.” He lowered his voice. “Does this mean you’re going to give me a second chance?”

  “I’m confused, Gideon. I’m not sure what it means.”

  “Either way, we have to get moving. And I need to check on my sister.”

  I had forgotten about Marlis in my rush to evade Gideon. “Where is she now?”

  “She’s supposed to be waiting for us at the edge of the woods. She doesn’t ride as well as you, but she should be able to keep up. I have to bring her along. Daeg will use her to get to me if I don’t.”

  “What about your father?”

  He swallowed before answering. “There’s nothing more I can do for him, but I made sure he would spend his final days in as much comfort as possible.”

  His pain for his father, and his devotion for his sister, unraveled my resolve. A vulnerable Gideon was difficult to resist, and my uncertainty swayed toward a decision. “Come on, let’s go make sure she’s all right.” I tugged him in what I hoped was the direction of the road.

  He chuckled. “I take that as a yes, then.”

  I stopped short and he bumped into me. I glared at him, not knowing if he could see my expression in the darkness. “You can come with me, if only for Marlis’s sake, but I’ll sleep with one eye open. I still don’t trust you.”

  He nodded. “I understand, but I will change your mind, Lady Thunder.”

  We found Marlis waiting at the edge of the woods on her little brown mare, standing deep enough in the shadows to avoid detection from anyone passing by on the road. She held reins for Wallah and for my gray horse.

  “I wish I knew her name,” I said as climbed into the saddle. The rain had cleared, but the soaked silk of my gown clung like a second skin. The moon came out between a wisp of clouds, and I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously.

  Gideon noticed my gesture and yanked something from his saddlebags.

  “My Thunder Cloak,” I said, delighted.

  “Marlis remembered it. She snuck to your room during the ceremony and grabbed it.”

  “Thank you, Marlis.”

  She ducked her head and said, “Your horse’s name is Adaleiz. I overheard the stable boys while I was waiting for you.”

  Gideon inhaled sharply, and I wondered what had startled him. Then I realized he had never heard his sister speak before. He leaned over and hugged her. She slapped at his shoulder and pushed him away, but she smiled and giggled.

  “Where to?” he asked after taking his seat on Wallah.

  “Justina made me an offer,” I said. “I think it’s time I took her up on it.”

  “Justina?” Marlis asked. “Who is she?”

  “The matriarch of the Fantazikes.”

  Gideon nodded. “Where do you suppose they’ve gone?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “But I have nowhere else to go and all the time in the world to get there.”

  Gideon urged his horse beside mine and reached for my hand. He brought my knuckles to his chest, over his heart, and gazed at me through dark, thick lashes. The look he gave me set a warm spot alight inside me, and it felt a little like hope.

  “You set the pace, Lady Thunder,” he said. “I’ll keep up.”

  ---THE END---

  (Be sure to continue down to the Special Sneak Preview of Quest of Thunder, the second book in this series.)

  Acknowledgements

  First thanks are always reserved for God and family. I thank God for my many blessings, and I thank my family for love, support, and patience.

  Building a somewhat-new-world required the assistance of a few experts. When it came to languages, especially “Dreutchish,” I had to rely on the help of others, much like Evie did. So, many thanks go to Stephen Kozeniewski (a terrific horror author, by the way) and Loren Holder for their expertise. Thanks to Rachael K. Jones for her input on several world-building questions that made a big impact on the construction of Evie’s realm. And huge, huge appreciation goes to Khaalidah Muhammed Ali for helping me with writing the “other,” and making sure I got Malita right.

  To April L. Wood, a terrific new fantasy author, by the way, thank you for being an early reader and giving me the notes to make this a stronger manuscript. Best wishes for much success in your own career.

  Thanks to Dave Lane (aka Lane Diamond) and Evolved Publishing for giving Evie and her friends a chance to see the light of day.

  Like most authors, I thought this book was fabulous from the start. Then Sue Fairchild got a hold of it and showed me that it was actually just an unpolished rock. But she got out her grinder and polishing cloth and turned this lump of words into a sparkly gem. Thank you, Sue.

  And thanks to Richard Tran for putting the final touch on this book with his amazing, original artwork.

  About the Author

  Some of Karissa’s favorite things are coffee, chocolate, and superheroes, and she can quote “Princess Bride” verbatim. She loves to read and has a sweet tooth for speculative fiction. Sometimes her family convinces her to put down the books and take the motorcycles out for a spin, or they’ll haunt flea markets, searching for rusty scraps to reuse and re-purpose. Karissa lives in North Carolina with her kid, her husband, the occasional in-law, and a very hairy husky named Bonnie.

  Karissa is also the author of the adult Urban Fantasy series, The Norse Chronicles, where she puts a modern twist on ancient myths. The first book, Midnight Burning, is available now.

  Please connect with Karissa online at www.KarissaLaurel.com, and be sure to follow her on Goodreads. You can also follow her at Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.

  What’s Next from Karissa Laurel?

  QUEST OF THUNDER

  The Stormbourne Chronicles – Book Two

  Escape once more to the epic world of the Stormbourne Chronicles with the second book in this young adult fantasy series. For more information on this series, please visit the Evolved Publishing website.

  ~~~

  And now, please scroll down for a

  Special Sneak Preview

  of

  QUEST OF THUNDER

  Special Sneak Preview

  QUEST OF THUNDER

  Chapter 1

  A vivid blush stained the evening sky, daubing horse-tail clouds in rosy hues. Diffuse lightning, the kind most often appearing over the ocean in summer, pulsed behind those wispy clouds like a dying heartbeat. I wasn’t attempting to achieve artistry, though. No, I was aiming for lethality, brutality, and raw power, but all I had managed was this idyllic scene that might have inspired an artist’s creative urges, but not my enemies’ respect or fear.

  Static crackled over my skin, raising fine hairs along my arms and neck. Despite my best efforts, I had managed only that much: a weak release of negative ions in the heavens and a tingling electrical charge dancing over my skin. “Come on, Evie,” I said to myself. “Get your head on straight.”

  After inhaling a deep breath, I rolled my shoulders, flexed my fingers, and imagined a sharp lightning bolt slicing a jagged wound across the atmosphere. Thunder, glorious and deep like a growling beast, rumbled in my memory. And there it remained, locked in my dreams and recollections, never finding release in the real world. Not through me, anyway. The last time the storms had responded to my commands, I had been standing in a forest on the border of Aeolus Daeg’s estate in the country of Dreutch. Gideon Faust, my betrayer and savior, had pursued me into those dark woods, and I held the storms over him as threat and warning.

  But in this field on the outskirts of Prigha, capital of Bonhemm, the thunder ignored me. Perhaps I had strayed too far f
rom my home in Inselgrau. Was I too withdrawn from the Stormbourne legacy, or had my own self-doubts defeated me? Most likely, my failures resulted from some of all those things combined.

  As I stood in there, locked in a cycle of useless, self-defeating thoughts, the rosy horizon deepened to violet, and a few audacious stars pricked through the darkness overhead. The swishing of tall grasses announced an approaching visitor. Gideon.

  “Is it time to come in already?” I asked, keeping my back to him.

  He stopped close behind me, and his familiar scent carried on the breeze—sweat, leather, horses, and hay. Despite all that had happened between us, his nearness still unsettled me. My heart juddered, a momentary syncopation in its regular rhythm.

  “It’s nearly dark,” he said. “You’ve been out here for hours.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I’m well aware.”

  He squeezed my arm and let go. His warmth, although fleeting, bled through my blouse’s thin fabric and seeped into my skin. “Marlis is hungry. It’s your turn to cook.”

  I turned and faced him, frowning. “Is it? Already?”

  His nose wrinkled. “Unfortunately so.”

  “My cooking’s not all bad.”

  He chuckled while the breeze stirred loose strands of honey colored hair around his face. He looked like an imp, if imps could also be large and imposing. “Not if you’re starving. Which I am.”

  “Come on then.” I led the way out of the field. “There’s bread and cheese at least. I don’t think even I could mess that up.”

  “Never say never, Evie.”

  We turned onto a dirt path trailing away from the farmland bordering the old city of Prigha. I had practiced storm gathering in that field nearly every evening we arrived in Bonhemm a month ago. My greatest success had come on a night when the skies were already filled with clouds, wind, and rain. With my mind I reached toward the lightning and stroked it with my will. Like a contented cat, the lightning purred beneath my touch, but the moment I nudged it with a gentle command it turned and hissed at me, bearing claws and teeth before darting away.

  We reached the city’s outskirts and crossed the ancient stone bridge spanning the Vivan River. Lamplighters were working their way through the streets, and a dim glow illuminated Prigha Castle resting atop a hillock at the city’s center like a giant slumbering dragon with jutting scales and a long winding tail wrapped round itself. In reality, those jutting scales were merely the castle’s multi-spired roofline, and the winding tail was a long brick wall encircling the courtyard.

  In another time, in another world, I might have ventured to Prigha Castle and visited the newly instated empress as a peer. But now.... Gideon and I turned down a side street the lamplighters had ignored, and we tried our best to sidestep puddles. Sometimes the street collected pools of harmless rain. More often than not, those puddles harbored a noxious concoction of human, animal, and industrial waste. An unfamiliar man slumped in a dark doorway, and as we hurried by, he coughed, wretched, and spat, adding another bit of foulness to the street.

  Once upon a time I had lived in the home of an elemental god. Compared to the legends of our ancestors, my father was diminished—more mortal than deity—but he had commanded thunder and lightning as well as any general commands an army.

  Look at me now.... How far the mighty have fallen.

  Although, I would have argued that I had never been very mighty.

  Except for a few displays of cunning and uncanny power I could not seem to repeat, I had been, and still remained, a rather unremarkable young woman. Presently, I lived in a tatty apartment at the top of a flight of rickety stairs in the slums. The last battle I had fought, and nearly lost, was waged against a family of hostile rats plotting to overtake our meager pantry.

  “I don’t mind the dark and the dirt so much,” Gideon muttered as I turned the lock at our apartment door. The door swung open on rusty hinges that squealed, broadcasting our entrance. “But why must everything smell of piss?”

  Marlis looked up from her seat beside an oil lamp in our sitting room. A bundle of fabric filled her lap, and she pinched a slim sewing needle between forefinger and thumb. She smiled, and my earlier angst and irritation bled away. Gideon’s sister radiated peace. An innate healer, she brought comfort with her mere presence. “Gideon,” she chided. “Language.”

  He harrumphed and stepped into the area set aside for the kitchen, his big frame filling most of the small space. A pot of water warmed on the stove, and he ladled it over his hands in the dish pan. I squeezed in beside him and mirrored his actions. We shared a bar of stiff lye soap that stung the cracks in my knuckles and cuticles. Washing laundry and darning socks chapped my skin, but the chores also paid my share of the rent. Gideon worked in the empress’s stables, but mostly as a laborer: cleaning stalls, grooming the horses, and such.

  However, the stable master must have noticed Gideon’s considerable talents with the livestock because, lately, Gideon had been spending more time in the training paddocks. Or so he had told me—I hadn’t visited the stables, yet. Work and practice left me little time for idle social calls.

  Despite what I had told Gideon earlier, I hadn’t forgotten it was my turn to make dinner. Earlier, on my way out to the field, I had stopped and bought a few short, dried sausages from a street vendor. I removed them from my skirt pockets and set them on the counter while Gideon unwrapped the bread and brought out what was left of our cheese. We kept both the bread and cheese hidden beneath a sturdy wooden crate weighed down with a few old horse shoes. The rats hadn’t managed to gnaw through our homemade bread safe, although I had caught one trying to push it off the counter several nights ago.

  I had bought something else, too, and my pockets were deeper than Gideon probably suspected. To our meager supper, I added a skimpy square of chocolate. He paused, knife poised over the cheese. “Is that what I think it is?”

  I nodded. “It’s been a while since we’ve indulged.”

  Floorboards squeaked as Marlis stood and crossed the room. She peered over my shoulder and gasped. “Evie, you shouldn’t have. You should be saving your money.”

  “For what?” I asked bitterly. “To fund a revolution?”

  Gideon snorted and resumed his slicing.

  “For whatever it might cost you to find the Fantazikes again,” she said. “You never know when you’ll need to buy a train ticket or pay a ship’s fare. You have to be prepared for any eventuality.”

  I huffed and my breath stirred the dark hairs that had escaped my braid. “It’s been a month and we haven’t been able to find a trace of the Fantazikes. It’s as if they launched their airships and flew to the moon.”

  “Are you saying you’ve given up?” she asked.

  I eased Gideon’s knife from his hand and sliced the chocolate into three pieces. “I’m saying that I love chocolate, and I could really use a little sweetness in my life today.” Her brother’s hazel stare met mine as I plopped a chocolate morsel on my tongue and sighed. “Tell me there will be unlimited chocolate in the afterlife. If so, I could die today and be happy.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Don’t say that, Evie.”

  “I’m only joking.”

  “I’ve seen you too close to death too many times. It’s not funny to me.”

  I pressed a fingertip against his piece of chocolate and pushed it across the counter toward him. “Then you need this at least as much as I do.”

  He arched an eyebrow but swallowed his retort. He pinched his chocolate slice and popped it in his mouth. He might have been stiff and stern and one of the most obstinate people I’d ever known, but even he couldn’t resist the seductive powers of a little warm cocoa melting on his tongue. The stiffness in his broad shoulders eased. He exhaled, and the shadow of a smile played on his lips. “That was just enough to make me wish for more.”

  “One day I’ll buy you bricks of it.” I turned to Marlis. “But for now, you’ll have to eat your crumbs and pretend we’re kings and queens
.”

  She smiled and accepted her piece from Gideon. She closed her eyes and exhaled as she savored the meager treat.

  “Now,” I said. “Everyone take a plate and sit. I’ll make tea.”

  ***

  I woke up startled, possibly as the result of a bad dream, but if so, the memory of it faded the moment I opened my eyes. Still, my heart hammered and my breath came fast and rushed. Someone in a neighboring apartment coughed—our walls were as thin as paper. Gideon’s heavy breathing carried from his sleeping pallet in the sitting room and filled the late night silence.

  I stood and eased around the edge of Marlis’s cot, careful not to wake her. On tiptoes, I left our bedroom, heading for our kitchen nook and the water pitcher on the counter beside the bread safe. “If there are any rats about,” I whispered, “you’d best be ready to fight.”

  The rats remained silent, and no telltale skittering of tiny claws gave away their presence, so I crept to the counter, found a cup, and poured water from the cool, earthenware jug. In the sitting room Gideon shifted and grunted. His dark shadow moved as he sat up, the moonlight filtering through the sitting room window limned his silhouette. “Evie?” he whispered. “What are you doing up?”

  Sneaking was a pointless endeavor whenever he was around. Even in sleep, his senses remained alert. Aeolus Daeg had trained him well, turned him into a consummate spy. Presently, Gideon claimed loyalty to me and swore an oath of fealty, yet a niggling voice of doubt whispered in my ear, questioning, suspicious. I hated that voice, but I had learned the hard way about the cost of guileless trust.

  “Thirsty,” I said.

  “Dreaming again?” he asked, heedless of my lame excuse.

  “Maybe.”

  He rose and moved to our secondhand, or possibly third-hand, settee, and patted the cushion beside him. “Come sit with me.”

  A brief warmth, like a momentary sun ray piercing storm clouds, stirred in my chest. I drained my cup and set it in the dish pan. “It’s late. I should go back to bed.”