Drault’s gaze locked on the hand on her sword, registering her threat.
“Not used to women with weapons, are you?” She took a step forward, adjusting her grip and ready to draw. “Now let me past.”
His sneer slipped, and he stepped to the side just far enough to let her squeeze through.
She kept her eyes on him as she passed. The light of the candles burning at the foot of the steps illuminated the sweat glistening on his face. He bared his teeth at her, and then reached out and slapped her on the arse. Immediately, she slammed him against the wall, drawing her belt knife and pressing the blade to his throat.
He froze, his eyes rolling in their sockets as he tried to glimpse the knife.
“I know what you did to Zaheva,” she said, leaning close enough to smell the stink of his fear. “Aharris may feel bound by duty and obligation, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I feel similarly. You come near me again, you touch me again, and I’ll cut it off.”
She pushed him away, and he sneered at her again.
She climbed the stairs, her back erect. Not once did she glance back, but the touch of his eyes followed her all the way to the first landing.
As she rounded the corner, footsteps pattered away ahead of her, and she caught the briefest glimpse of green skirts flashing out of sight at the next landing up.
There, she paused and slid the dagger back into its sheath, her body shaking as it slipped free of her iron-hard control. Lyram couldn’t hear of this, not even a hint, or he would murder Drault and then have to face the consequences. She let out a long shuddering breath. She’d made an enemy of Drault this night, and no one could be allowed to know.
Ellaeva licked nervously at her lip as they approached the border checkpoint, her hands tightening on the reins. The animal, a fractious war-trained stallion, danced under her touch. Loosening the reins, she moved the animal slightly off to the side of their procession as it snorted and cavorted before settling into a bone-jarring trot that carried her past the other riders and towards the head of the train. She grimaced. Though she’d ridden from a very young age, she had no particular fondness for horses, especially spirited ones. Lyram had insisted that the captain of his guard would have a warhorse, and so this great grey beast was what she now found herself stuck with.
Their group, much larger than she’d have liked, stretched out in a long train. The hundred soldiers, all mounted and at least a dozen of whom wore the red cloth arm bands, clustered around the large carriage intended to carry Lyram, Drault and Narrawen in the style expected of such dignitaries. Behind them trailed their aides and functionaries, wagons full of supplies, and even a trumpeter. The flapping banners of three different clans flew above the cavalcade: the Aharris sleeping dragon, the royal thistle in purple against a black background, and the golden rose of Macklyn, drawn with exaggerated thorns.
Her horse drew alongside the carriage. Naturally, Lyram was off somewhere on his horse instead of riding in style and comfort. Narrawen, too, had brought her own horse and not yet stepped foot near the carriage.
Drault, however, leaned out the window, his customary sneer twisting his face as he watched her. The man might have been attractive in a clean-cut type of way, if he had another expression and even a hint of care in his green eyes. He was probably the reason Narrawen avoided the conveyance. Who would want to be locked up with such a person?
“Perhaps we should have given you a quieter nag, captain,” he called.
When she met his gaze, he laughed and pulled back inside the carriage out of sight. Her mouth twisted. He obviously intended to salve his wounded pride of the night before by insulting her.
Lyram cantered over, riding his bright bay horse with the grace and ease of a nobleman born to the saddle. “We’re here.”
She glanced towards the head of the train. Distracted by Drault, she’d not noticed the outriders returning and the guards at the front drawing to a stop.
A small, square grey building marked the checkpoint, and Jerreki border guards poured out the door, shouting to one another in the Jerreki tongue and waving their arms. Their skin was so black as to be bordering on blue, much darker than the Mysenans to the south, but their hair was a shocking copper in contrast, a combination she’d never grown accustomed to but which bred as true as the green or grey eyes of most Jerreki. There were no women among them. Apart from the guards, the border crossing was abandoned, with no signs of the priestesses who’d fled through here in ones and twos. Had all her sisters in Jerrek fled—or were they dead? It had taken too many weeks to return here with the diplomatic party.
Narrawen trotted up to the guards on her pale gold gelding. As she drew rein, she, leaned down to speak to the nearest guard. Her bow was thrust through her girth strap. Lyram watched as Narrawen spoke to them, waving her hands to punctuate each point.
“I don’t like having her and Drault along,” he said. “They’re an avalanche looking for somewhere to happen. You might as well have left me in Ahlleyn; I have no authority over this mission if either of them decides to gainsay me.”
“I did not require your presence for your rank. I need the legitimacy this mission gives me, but I wanted you along to watch my back. I trust you; I trust neither of them.”
“That’s my worry, too.” Lyram glanced at her sidelong. “What did Drault say to you?”
As was usually the case, his face fell into a frown when he spoke Drault’s name, an expression she was sure was completely unconscious. What thoughts ran through his mind when he wore that expression?
“Nothing.” She dropped a hand to her sword, feeling the tassel affixed there. It was real, even if the rest was illusion, as no mere trickery of the eye could fool the hands. She ran her thumb over the basket hilt, tracing the shape of the hidden dragons that did not match the visible design, and contemplated the crossing ahead.
The guard Narrawen was speaking to had a folded piece of paper in hand. He appeared to be giving curt, one-word answers to her questions, and finally he waved her through after a long look at her red hair. The rest of the group were instructed to remove their helms or hoods or anything else that might obscure their faces. The men were waved through without further question, but the women who carried swords were required to offer them for inspection.
Ellaeva fumbled with the buckles on her baldric. Though clad in her cuir bouilli chest harness, she felt exposed in a way she’d never experienced before, knowing she was the woman they were looking for. She’d been turned back last time, but would they be so magnanimous a second time? The thought made her loosen her blade in it scabbard.
Lyram looked sideways at her, his eyes weighing and measuring. She’d clamped down on her feelings right away last night, fast enough that she was sure none of her fear or outrage had bled down the link to him—but of course, he would wonder what she was hiding from him.
If he knew Drault had laid so much as a finger on her, he’d murder his liege’s son in a heartbeat. And so she would convince him nothing untoward was going on, even while Drault no doubt schemed and plotted his revenge.
To end the discussion, she guided her horse in behind the carriage, but Lyram followed, falling in beside her. Thankfully, he spoke no further, just shot her brooding glances through his eyelashes.
The Jerreki soldiers peered through the windows at Drault, who said something curt. The guards waved the carriage through.
As Ellaeva approached with Lyram at her side, they gestured for Lyram to join the others in Jerrek, but indicated that she should stop. Though Lyram pulled his horse aside, he stayed, stubbornly waiting with her on the Ahlleyn side of the border.
Sweat trickled down her back under the heavy layers of her armour as she passed over the sword for inspection. The border guard wore a skirted Jerrek cuirass with the local style helmet, open-faced with extended cheek pieces, a nose guard and a crest of horsehair. He didn’t even look at her as he took the sword, glanced at it, then shoved it back at her so hard it struck her chest.
She tried to ignore his grey eyes on her face as she buckled the baldric back on. As she settled the sword on her hip, the guard waved two of his companions over.
They spoke in a low excited murmur. Their voices were too soft for her to catch more than a word here or there. Intermittently, a guard looked at her, then referred back to the drawing the first man held. One of them stabbed a finger at the paper and shook his head, and the other snatched it away.
“What are they saying?” Lyram had sidled back over unnoticed.
She jerked in the saddle, making the horse dance sideways at the sudden tightening of the reins. Glaring at Lyram, she made a sharp negative gesture. Whatever the guards were saying was lost beneath his words.
“I have no idea now,” she said under her breath. She studied them as she tried to catch the thread of their conversation. They wore layered linen cuirasses of local design, reinforced by a thick band of iron scale around the waist. Given the way Jerrek conducted its trade, always suspicious of strangers, iron armour was likely expensive here, and too hot for the climate. She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably at the thought, aware of the sun beating down on her and the stickiness of her gambeson clinging to her back. The cold dreary rain of an Ahlleyn autumn was a distant memory here. That cuirass would be cooler, but offered some serious disadvantages as well. Its skirted bottom protected the groin, but the arms were bare, leaving the armpits exposed. The helm protected the head, face and back of the neck, but the throat was exposed to a precision thrust.
The swords on the Jerreki’s hips were heavy and strangely-shaped. The blades were straight from the hilt to the midpoint then widened into a long flame shape. Single-edged, she guessed, though she’d never had occasion to handle one. Small bucklers were propped against the wall of the building, along with a rack of javelins.
“No war elephants,” Lyram murmured.
She cut her eyes at him. “Did you expect any at the border?”
He smiled at the exaggerated sarcasm. “Not really. I’d just like to see one.”
She sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Jerrek’s war elephants were famous, but rarely seen, and no one knew where they came from... over the northern mountains, perhaps. Few who crossed that way ever came back.
The guards returned in a clump, the first one still waving the drawing. One of the others, a man with sergeant’s rank on his shoulder, snatched the paper away and turned back to Ellaeva, growling at the other men. They scurried farther down the train to continue the inspection.
The sergeant looked at the drawing, then at her face, and back at the drawing again. Finally he glanced at her sword.
“Is there a problem?” she asked him in Jerreki. For the first time in a long time, she found it difficult to keep her voice steady.
The sergeant jerked his thumb at her, indicating she could cross the border, and stalked down to inspect the next unfortunate in line.
The tension drained from her, and she kicked the horse into motion, a little breathless with relief. Lyram followed her.
She scowled at him. “Why did you wait?”
“What if he’d decided you were the woman he was looking for?”
“What if he did? More than likely he would have done nothing more than turn me back, like the last time. But that doesn’t matter. You can’t do things like that, Lyram. I’m not a porcelain doll in need of protection. What I need is for you to let me do my job, and accept all the risks that entails.”
Leaving him gaping at her, she clapped her heels to the horse’s flanks and cantered to the head of the train.
---End of Special Sneak Preview of On the Edge of Death by Ciara Ballintyne---
GRAB YOUR COPY OF THE FULL EBOOK AT LINKS HERE:
Ciara Ballintyne at Evolved Publishing
We hope you loved In the Company of the Dead. If so, you’re sure to love these other great fantasies for our talented team.
An epic fantasy suitable for readers 15 and older:
THE SOULBOUND CURSE
The Amüli Chronicles: Soulbound: Book 1
By Kira A. McFadden
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Available in 3 Parts as eBooks (picture above), or as a single paperback edition (pictured below).
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Discover the fantastic world of the Amüli, rich with characters, languages, and world-building. For more information, please visit the Evolved Publishing website. And watch for the second part of The Amüli Chronicles to arrive in 2016 and 2017, with the release of The Soulless King.
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The angelic amüli race has spent thousands of years perfecting immortality by binding their souls to human hosts. That tenuous grasp on life is slipping because an increasing number of stillborn amüli infants are born without souls.
When Marik’s daughter is born Unsouled, he strives to find out why. Many amüli believe disease is to blame for the Unsouled births, but Marik believes his half-human cousin Clae may be the real catalyst. The Amüli Republic’s oligarchy refuses to take a public stance on Clae’s involvement, instead instructing Marik to capture him in secrecy. Should Clae’s association with the Unsouled epidemic become public, the amüli would rise against all half-breeds and throw the Republic into chaos.
If Marik captures Clae and proves he is causing the mysterious deaths, the Republic may flourish once more. If he fails, his people will descend into a bitter civil war, destroying everything they have accomplished.
~~~
Praise for The Soulbound Curse – Part 1:
“Not even sure where to begin with this book! I so loved it! The characters are lovable & complex. I got so entangled in it! I cannot wait to get my hands on part 2!”— Kimberly
“The world McFadden has created is so complex and alien and strange that it feels real. More than once I almost believed I might be carrying the soul of an amüli.” ~ Lizard Duck
“Kira’s use of imagery is nothing short of spectacular. She was able to describe an entirely new world for the reader. The characters and story lines were well developed and delightfully entertaining. I am astounded by Kira’s vivid imagination and her ability to create an new world, culture, political structure, and way of life.”— Stephanie
For lovers of young adult fantasy thrillers with a Native American twist, this series is suitable for readers 13 and up:
CHOSEN
Book 1: Wind Catcher
Book 2: Brink of Dawn
Book 3: Scorched Souls
By Jeff Altabef and Erynn Altabef
The multiple award-winning Chosen series of young adult fantasy thrillers features a slice of American Indian culture, blended into fantasy/sci-fi/thriller stories. For more information on this series, please visit the Evolved Publishing website.
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WIND CATC HER:
Juliet Wildfire Stone stands between two worlds. Her eccentric grandfather tells her stories about the Great Wind Spirit and Coyote, but he might as well be speaking another language. She’s started to hear voices and see visions, but even they don’t make any sense. All she wants to be is an average sixteen-year-old girl, but she has never been average—could never be average.
She is the Chosen and the Seeker Slayer, and our only hope.
Recently transferred to an exclusive school, Juliet is forced to choose between her new wealthy life and her Native American heritage. Unsure where she fits in, she stumbles upon a series of murders. Worried that her grandfather is involved, she discovers an ancient secret society, the Order of the Twisted Arrows—a society formed over two hundred years ago to keep her safe.
When the mysterious Seeker learns of Juliet’s existence, he threatens everyone she loves in the world, willing to kill to have her.
Betrayed by the young man she loves, she must decide whether to run or to fulfill her destiny as the Chosen.
~~~
Praise for Wind Catcher:
“Many young adult books revolve around young adult decision-making processes, but the joy and excite
ment fueling Wind Catcher is that Juliet's search for truth doesn't end with its emergence, but with the bigger picture of what she'll choose to do with it. That's the heartbeat of a powerful saga that fully immerses readers in all the possible scenarios that can stem from one's choices in life—and the reason why Wind Catcher stands out from the crowd.”— D. Donovan
“Wind Catcher is one of the best thrillers for YA that I have read in some time. ... If I hadn’t had to eat and sleep, I would have read it right through without stopping. It is just that good!”— S. Price “Suze”
“What an amazingly unique story!! I can honestly say I have never read anything like it! I loved the strong Native American themes running through it as well as the deep plunge into the rich culture then and now. This story seemed to quench my thirst for knowledge of the more supernatural aspect to the Native American history and storytelling and I loved the creativity of the authors. Even though this is, in essence, a young adult book, I was literally kept at the edge of my seat while reading. The plot has some very intense situations as well as mature threads running throughout the story. I love that our authors see our “young adult” crowd as more than older kids; they see them as very intelligent and can handle the more mature themes including murder and secret societies. And come on, who doesn’t love secret societies?”— Amy @ Read to My Heart’s Content
In the Company of the Dead (The Sundered Oath Book 1) Page 44
