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Acknowledgements
Thanks again to Michelle, my terrific beta reader, whose enthusiasm for these stories never stops her from telling me how to make them better.
Thanks to Lou, who made the beautiful cover.
Thanks to the people of Kboards Writers’ Cafe for their extensive knowledge of the self-publishing process and their willingness to share with new authors.
Thanks to my family, who support my writing career even when supper is late and I can’t write words as fast as they want to read them.
Thanks to my readers. I’m so glad you’ve given me the chance to share these characters and stories with you.
And thank you to all those who fight when it’s necessary, those who make peace when it’s possible, those who are willing to look through other people’s eyes, those who are brave enough to stand by their convictions, and those who are humble enough to admit they might be wrong.
About the Author
Angela Holder lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband of twenty-four years. She has three children: one in high school, one in college, and one grown, married, and out on her own. She spends a lot of time in Starbucks, drinking vanilla lattes and flat whites and telling stories about her imaginary friends. She enjoys dabbling in many hobbies, including spinning, knitting, weaving, costuming, hot air ballooning, singing in her church choir, and performing in amateur musicals. For news about future releases, visit her website at www.angelaholder.com and join her mailing list, or like her Facebook page at facebook.com/angelaholderauthor.
The Chronicles of Tevenar
Book 1: The Fuller's Apprentice, September 2015
Book 2: The Law of Isolation, November 2015
Book 3: Beyond the Boundary Stones, January 2016
Book 4: The Wizards’ War, March 2016
Chronicles of Tevenar Novellas
Calling, September 2015
Broken Bonds, September 2015
Angela’s Other Fiction
White Blood, March 2014
Coming Soon
The Tale of Gurion Thricebound, Summer 2016
Turn the page for an excerpt.
Here’s an excerpt from The Tale of Gurion Thricebound:
Prologue
I have already recounted the events of my life in the volume I entitled History, which I wrote as a companion to the Law the Mother instructed me to set down. I recorded the momentous changes I took part in, so that future generations here in this new land the Mother has given us will not forget their origins, the shame and glory of their past. But though I have set down my pen from that work, and by all rights should rest content that my task is done, I find I cannot be easy. I have grown accustomed to the daily routine of scratching out my thoughts on the crisp white sheets the Papermakers’ Guild has finally perfected, finding native materials suitable to replace the papyrus that was plentiful in Ravanet but does not grow here. I find myself constantly dwelling on parts of the story I left out, either because I forgot, or because I intentionally did not include them. There was no need, in an historical document, to describe my personal emotions or the private details of my family that could be of no interest to any but myself. But those are the elements that loom large in my thoughts these days, as my life draws toward its close, which even the power of the Mother cannot delay indefinitely.
I have decided, therefore, to maintain the habit I have developed of writing each day, so I may continue to enjoy the calm focus it brings to my thoughts. I will detail all the minutiae I left out of the formal account, for my personal edification. Perhaps at some point I will share these words with the rest of the Wizard’s Guild. They might profit from what I intend to reveal, if they have the patience to wade through the nostalgic ramblings of an old man.
Yaven will be Guildmaster after me—already is in all but name, if truth be told. I wish she would allow me to give up the title as well and fade into the dignified retirement I have more than earned, but she insists that the people still venerate me too highly, and I cannot bring myself to argue the point overmuch with her. Most wizards of my age have long since set down the burden of active service, usually upon the death of a familiar. My Rainbow must be of an extraordinarily long-lived species, for she is still as bright of eye and brilliant of feather as the day she fluttered, a half-fledged chick, through my window. More than forty years ago now, that was. Many a Mother-touched animal has been born, bonded, grown old, and died in that time, but she thrives still, and I treasure the gift, for I have lost so much else to the relentless passage of time.
She is watching me from her perch beside my desk. From time to time she picks a seed from the cup the apprentices keep filled, pries its shell open with the curved beak that can both deal vicious damage and act with precise delicacy, and guides the kernel into her throat with her thick black tongue. She would prefer to be in the Hall, working alongside the other wizards and familiars to heal and help and show truth as the Mother has called us both to do, but she is tolerant of an old man’s frailty. I no longer have the energy I once did, ready to be spent profligately in her service. I gladly answer the need when the Hall grows busy and they call me down to add my strength, such as it is, to theirs, but I am just as glad when they shoo me away on quiet afternoons such as this, up to my room with its wide windows that give me a view of the flashing green sea. The sea that carried us here, that forms an impenetrably vast wall to protect our fragile new land from the dangers we left behind.
I look out across that sea, and reach to Rainbow for comfort. She flies to my arms, and I stroke the brilliant red feathers on her head and back. She is the third Mother-touched animal I have been bound to. She has been with me far longer than either of the others. We may not share quite the intense closeness that characterized my relationship with Barley, and she might not hear the Mother’s voice with the clarity that Whitecap always could, but she knows me inside and out in a way neither of them did. Thricebound, they named me, when first she and I mingled our blood and the Mother forged our bond. The name persists, even though many other wizards have outlived two or three or even more familiars since.
It is just as well, I suppose, for although I would prefer they call me simply Gurion Wizardkin Wizard, as my name should be in the new system of guildnames we have established, so long as they no longer call me Elero I am content. Let that name vanish into history along with the corruption of the system it symbolizes. It means nothing anymore, thank the Mother, that I am descended from one of the original thousand wizards, even though that fact shaped the first forty-eight years of my life far more than any other.
I remember the last day I was truly Gurion Elero, exalted Chosen of the Thousand Families, member of the Council of Wizards, one of the wealthy and powerful there in Miarban, on the banks of the Irkolis. I can picture our villa, as clear and sharp as if I left it only yesterday. The white marble of the walls, bright in the brilliant desert sun, the cool green shade of the palms and laurels in the atrium, the vivid magenta of the bougainvillea twining over the walls. Fia loved those flowers; she was painting them that day, standing at her easel, dipping the hair-fine tip of her brush into the pots of paint, tracing an exquisitely graceful line on the stretched canvas.
Ah, Fia. If I had known that day what awaited us, all the grief and pain and regrets that would be ours in the days to come, would I have chosen differently? Would I have refused to walk the path the Mother laid out before me, even though I firmly believe, must believe, it was the only one that could lead to this p
lace, where at last the Mother’s power serves her children in the way she always intended?
There is certainly much I would have changed of my actions, many things I am ashamed to remember now. But there were times I chose rightly, as well, that would have been much harder, or even impossible, if I had known what those choices would cost. How would my life have been different, how would the world be different, if I could have seen into the future, that day our youngest son, Jashon, came of age…
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The Tale of Gurion Thricebound will be available Summer 2016. Sign up to my mailing list at www.angelaholder.com for up-to-date release information.
Copyright © 2016 by Angela Holder
All Rights Reserved
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