Showing posts with label excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label excerpt. Show all posts

Friday, August 1, 2014

Love's Treasure by Shirley Martin

romance : bride and groom silhouette kissing  Hi everyone,
 
I recently started a fantasy romance, and this is the first scene from the second chapter. I'm using this scene because it has more dialog than the first scene of the first chapter.
                                                               
 
 
 
 
                                                  LOVE'S TREASURE
 
                                                   by Shirley Martin
    
"You'll have to hurry, son. I'll explain the situation as you get ready. I've already ordered the stable boy to prepare a  horse for you."
    Inside his bedchamber within the palace of Airen Tir, Garth pulled on his trousers, all the while focusing his attention on his father. He wondered what the 'situation' was.
    "As you know," his father explained, "we have a few spies planted inside the palace of Volanar. They act as servants of the palace, but they serve us. Now let me backtrack a bit. Have you heard about a cache of gold hidden inside a cave of Misty Mountain?"
    "Misty Mountain?" Garth paused while pulling his linen tunic over his head. "I've always thought that tale was a myth. You think there's some truth to the story?" 
    King Treherne nodded. "I have reason to believe so. The story has persisted throughout the years, and my grandfather spoke of it in his last days, regretting that he'd never sent anyone to find the treasure. There surely must be truth to the tale."  He leaned forward, his hands on his knees. "Yesterday, one of our spies was in the archives room of the Volanar palace--"
    Garth fastened his belt. "The archives room? What was he doing there?"
    "He followed Princess Olwen, clandestinely, of course, and checked the room after she left. First lighting a candle, he saw an open book that revealed a map of where the gold is hidden far to the north of Elucera in Misty Mountain."
    "Wait a minute," Garth said, dropping several coins in a purse attached to his belt, where his sword already resided in its scabbard. "How do you know this?"
    "A carrier pigeon brought the news early this morning on a slip of paper. A small map was included."  He drew the paper from a pocket and handed it to Garth. "Study this map later, when you have time.. Another spy saw a young man he couldn't identify ride off in the middle of the night."
    Folding the paper inside his tunic pocket, Garth sat to pull on his boots. "That still doesn't prove that the man was headed for Misty Mountain."
    Treherne smiled slyly. "Remember I once told you about a hole drilled in the wall of the king's study, behind a painting? One of our spies heard the princess talking to her father about the hidden gold." Briskly, he stood. "Enough talk. I want you to ride as if your life depended on it." His eyes narrowed. "You need to redeem yourself, son. There is still your unexplained absence from the kingdom earlier this year."
    "And if I arrive at the cache of gold the same time as this unidentified young man?"
    "Why, you kill him, of course."  
----------------------------------------------
 
Find all of Shirley's books at Books We Love  


 

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Coming Soon! Temptation by Shirley Martin (excerpt)


 
                                                                      TEMPTATION
                                                                     by Shirley Martin
 
    Jennifer stepped outside onto the brick patio, needing to escape the continual bragging of the stockbroker whose only subject was himself.  Closing the French doors behind her, she shut out most of the noise and laughter from the party inside, a welcome relief. Surprised she had the patio to herself, she rested her hand on the iron railing and inhaled the cool November air, her gaze absorbing the magnificent houses and lush foliage of this elegant Coral Gables neighborhood. Some day, she hoped to have a home of her own, but she knew she could never afford a spacious mansion such as this. Yet that was fine with her; a more modest home would suit her nicely, like the one she lived in now. 
    Alone with her thoughts, she considered how well things were going for her now. An only child, she'd been spoiled all her life. Things had gone so easily for her. Pretty and popular, she'd been a cheerleader in high school, dating the football players. Her grades in high school and college had been good. She wondered what would happen if she ever met a real challenge. How would she handle adversity, if it ever came to that?  And then she wondered what had prompted this introspection.
    The fragrance of night-blooming jasmine drifted her way, carried by a light easterly breeze.  She stared upward at the clear sky, where a sprinkling of stars and a couple of planets overcame the competition of bright city lights. She'd return to the party in a few minutes, but for now, she wanted time to herself. She'd had a rough week and wanted just a few moments alone.
    "A beautiful night, isn't it?"
    "Oh!"  She swung around to stare at the stranger.  "You scared me!  You shouldn't sneak up on a person like that. I didn't hear the doors close."  Dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and tie, he stood a few feet away, next to the doors. Tall, dark, and handsome.  The cliche slipped easily from her mind, yet it was true.  At least his hair was dark, but his skin was the palest she'd ever seen, as if he never got enough sunlight. On him, the combination was fascinating.  If Helen of Troy had a face that could launch a thousand ships, this man had the good looks to send a rocket to Mars.
    He smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."  He nodded toward the party inside.  "It was getting much too noisy there." 
    She tilted her  head at him.  "I didn't see you there."
    "But I saw you across the room, and I wanted to meet you. I hope you don't mind."
    His dark eyes focused on her. Those eyes!  She could gladly sink into them and never come up for air. 
    Even here, she caught a faint trace of laughter form inside. "Normally, I like parties, but sometimes--"  She shrugged. "--sometimes I like to be by myself." 
    "I, also.  Present company excepted." He smiled and moved closer.
    Frowning, she backed away a few steps. 
    "I won't hurt you," he said, as if he could read her mind.
    "Well, I didn't think that for one minute."  She fussed with the buttons of her white silk blouse and shifted from one foot to another. She gave him a closer look in the darkness, his devilish gaze meeting hers. Devilish. Why did that word spring to her mind?  She admired his dark looks, but she'd learned long ago that looks meant nothing if a person was empty inside, or worse, harmful to others. Just look at Bruce, the scumbag. 
    "Do I meet with your approval?"
    Her face warmed, and she opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. 
    He inclined his head.  'Permit me to introduce myself.  My name is Varik Kruger."
    "Varik?  Never heard that name before."
    "I fear it's a long story."  He raised his eyebrows.  "And you are?"
    "Jennifer."  No point in telling him her last name. After tonight, she'd never see him again.  For some inexplicable reason, a rush of disappointment clutched at her stomach.
    'Jennifer, tell me about yourself."
    She shook her head.  "Not much to tell."
    "I want to hear it, anyway."
    She hesitated, licking her lips.
    "Jennifer?"
    She took a deep breath. "To begin with, I teach English at a local high school."
    "Literature?"
    "Literature and grammar, mostly."
    "Ah, yes.  And you're from Miami?"
    "Originally from Pittsburgh, a town called Fox Hollow."  She smiled.  "You find a lot of funny place names in Pennsylvania."
    He waved his hand. "Same all over the world."  A pause.  "Your family still lives in Pennsylvania?"
    "Yes, and I miss them very much."  Why was she telling him all of this?  There was something about him that made her want to tell him everything, to bare all her secrets, reveal all her hopes and dreams. And she'd only just met him." 
    "But you--"
    "Just wanted a change," she said, gripping the railing.  Never mind telling him the real reason, that she'd come to Miami to get away from an abusive boyfriend.  Jealous because she'd dated another man, he'd slapped her face so hard she'd suffered a bruise for days. That night, he'd said he'd never let her go.  Bruce was such a charmer at first. He'd sure charmed her mother, who saw no fault in him. 
    What if her mother gave Bruce her address?  Hell, no!  Jennifer knew too well she had to be more discriminating, not fall for every sweet talker who came her way.
    Trying to dismiss her dismal thoughts, she brought her mind back to Varik and smiled in his direction. "You're from this country?"
    "Why, yes," he said after a slight pause. "Why do you ask?"
    "Your speech sounds a bit different, kind of formal."
    "I spend a good deal of time in Europe," he said as if that explained everything.  Which it didn't.
    A period of silence followed. As if by mutual agreement, they both looked up at the night sky with its sprinkling of stars and a cloud that slid in front of the moon. A cool breeze picked up, fluttering her silk skirt around her knees and blowing a lock of hair across her face.  Hibiscus bushes on the spacious grounds rustled in the breeze. For the first time that evening, she felt at peace, and why, she couldn't say. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, thinking she really should go back inside. 
    His low voice snatched her attention. "Did you come by yourself?"
    She turned to look at him.  "Why, yes, I drove."
    He pressed his hand to his heart in mock sorrow. "You have deprived me of the opportunity to drive you home. But seriously, it would have been my pleasure to do just that, had you needed a ride."  He leaned her way, his voice cascading over her like a warm shower.  "I should like very much to see you again."
    "Thanks.  I appreciate your sentiments.  But I don't ride with strangers. And I'm real busy right now."  Aware of how abrupt she must seem, she smiled to take the sting from her words. "What's that expression about ships that pass in the night?"
    "Ah, yes, Shakespeare.  And very true, I'm afraid, except that this is a lovely moonlit patio."
    "Besides, I don't know a thing about you."
    He smiled lazily. "What if I told you I'm a vampire?"
    She laughed. "You're too late for Halloween and too early for April Fools Day."
    He laughed, too, a husky chuckle, as if they'd shared a huge joke.
    A wicked sense of danger stirred inside her. She knew she should leave, but something kept her glued to the spot, as if by her departure the world would stop spinning, the sun would turn to ashes.
    Sighing inwardly, she turned toward the door. "It's been nice meeting you, but I should get back inside."  She fluttered her fingers at him.  "See you."  How empty the night seemed now, all pleasure gone from the evening. And she'd never see him again. She wondered why that outcome should bother her so,and besides, she should know better. After Bruce, it would be just as well if she stayed away from all men.
    She turned away from him, a faint scent of floral perfume wafting in the air. 
    "Goodnight, Jennifer."  Varik admired her supple walk, her high heels clicking on the bricks, her dark skirt rippling around her knees. He liked the way her light brown hair bounced across her shoulders as she moved. Her fresh, clean looks captivated him, absolutely the most enchanting he'd ever seen. Was she aware of what a lovely image she presented, one that made him want to hold her and kiss her to drive them both breathless? 
    He wanted to see her again. He would see her again. By the time the party broke up, he'd approach the host, use his mesmerizing charm to discover Jennifer's address.  And see her again, this woman he couldn't drive from his mind.     
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This is as yet unpublished. Any comments or crits are welcome.
 
 
 
 

Monday, June 24, 2013

A Date with a Vampire



 
by Shirley Martin
 
    Suppose you meet a vampire at a party, and you know he's one of the undead.  Now suppose he asks you for a date. Would you say (1) I never date vampires, (2) Let me think about it, or (3) Your place or mine?
    Within the last few decades, vampires have been portrayed as real sex symbols, handsome and debonair. But it wasn't always so. Centuries ago, people actually believed in vampires, creatures shown to be ugly and desiccated. In eastern Europe, especially, people dug up graves of anyone suspected of being one of the undead and drove a stake through the heart or burned the corpse. 
    All of that changed with the publication of Bram Stoker's "Dracula" in 1897. Now the vampire was portrayed as being more, well, human. At the time of its publication, "Dracula' didn't garner the fame that later years brought to the novel. Yet Stoker's novel set the standard for vampires that would last for years.
    With Anne Rice's publication of "Interview with a Vampire" the bloodsucker underwent yet another incarnation, this time as a troubled, introspective hero.  And since then, we have seen an absolute plethora of novels and movies centered around the undead. Now, we see the vampire as a sexy, romantic hero, one any woman would die for.
    In my contemporary vampire romance, "One More Tomorrow" my heroine, Stephanie (Stevie) doesn't at first realize that the man she has fallen in love with is a vampire. Imagine her shock when she finds out what he is and that he's over one-thousand years old. 
    Here is a truncated version of Stevie's reaction when she discovers that Galan, the man she loves, is a vampire.. . .
    Galan sat down on the bed next to her, but she slid away. "If only you knew how I wanted to tell you, how it hurt not to reveal what I truly am."
    "Yeah, I'll just bet that broke your heart."
    "Dearest, you are breaking my heart now."
    "You don't  have a heart."
    He nodded, pain and misery on his face. "My heart is not like yours. But this much I tell you, and I beg you to believe me. I never sought my vampirism. It was forced on my whilst I lay drugged and unconscious."
    "And you expect me to believe that?"
    "No matter, it's the truth." 
    She had to be by herself. It was all too much to take. If what he said was true--and she had to take him at his word--what a horrible burden to bear until the end of time.
    She raised a finger to catch a tear sliding down her cheek. "You'd better go now, leave me alone. And I think--" Her voice caught. "--and I think it would be best if we stopped seeing each other." 
    "You need time to get used to the idea. I'll call you later this week."
    "No!  You don't understand. This is 'goodby'.  I don't want to see you again."  
 
 
 

   Destined to live only in darkness Galan must defeat the evil Moloch to win the love of the mortal woman, Stephanie.
 
"--an enchanting book with the charm of a fairy tale and an ending that's pure gold."  Alma at Fallen Angel Reviews.



http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006WSJZLO

Friday, August 10, 2012

Night Secrets by Shirley Martin


Fear and betrayal threaten the kingdom of Avador. Keriam, a princess with supernatural powers, must save her father from assassination. But can she trust Roric, or is he part of the plot?

Roric loved once and lost. He wants to put his past behind him and love Princess Keriam, but he fears she is a witch. And witchcraft is forbidden in the kingdom. If found guilty, she will be burned at the stake. Not even her father could save her.

Reviews:

"Night Secrets" is a wonderful fantasy filled with magic, human kindness and evil...If you enjoy good versus evil fantasy, this one must be on your to be read list." Chere, Paranormal Romance Reviews

"Passionate, exciting, gripping and romantic, Night Secrets is as impossible to put down as it is to forget."
Julie Bonello, eCataRomance

 
by Shirley Martin

Chapter One

    A slight tug released Keriam’s soul from her body. She floated to the ceiling, amazed as always that she could look down at herself in bed. With a certainty born of past experience, she knew this was no dream. Ever since her mother’s death two years ago, preternatural powers had evolved within her, and she often wondered why. Was it her mother’s way of watching over her from the Otherworld? These night journeys were even more recent and something she must learn to control, if only she knew how.
    She drifted through the bedchamber walls, then once outside, flew over the maples and oaks that bordered the royal domain of Emain Macha, approaching the open countryside. Heading north, she traveled over the many farmsteads nestled in small groupings with their wattle-and-daub houses, the herds of longhorn sheep dotting the open fields. Here and there a hillfort guarded the country. Although it was deepest night, everything looked clear and luminous.
     Maintaining her leisurely flight, Keriam approached the capital city of Moytura, its shops and stores closed, its many taverns and inns dimly-lit but alive with noise and laughter.
     A heavy mist swirled around her, the night air cool and damp. She headed westward to the Plain of Sorrows, a vast land preceded by a meadow and transected by the winding Nantosuelta River. Through the fog, she drifted down among the thick clusters of oak trees lining the riverbank and smiled at the fairies who slumbered in the branches. To her heightened hearing, the rippling water of the Nantosuelata echoed like a waterfall.
    The sound of hoofbeats jolted her. As quickly as her spirit form would allow, she took refuge within an earthberry bush, afraid someone might see her, even in the dim light.
     Two men gathered by the river, their voices audible as they secured their horses to tree branches. Focusing her gaze in the hazy light, she recognized them as officers in her father's army, although she didn't know their names. What were they doing here at this late night hour? One bald and the other blond, they wore simple tunics and short boots.
    "Gamal just returned from a mission," the bald one said. "He should arrive shortly."
     Was that Major Roric Gamal, her father's courier?
    Aimless talk ensued for several minutes, army gossip and tales of female exploits.
     They became silent when Roric Gamal rode up, an officer she'd seen at the palace many times. He dismounted and looped his horse's halter around a tree branch, then approached the others. Younger and taller than the other two, his gait was steady and confident, like one accustomed to authority.
    "Where's General Balor?" Gamal asked. "He should be present." His clipped accent told her he came from one of the southern provinces, Mag Aurfolaig, perhaps.
     "Couldn't come," the bald officer explained. "The general sent me to represent him."
    "Very well," the newcomer said, his baritone voice clear and resonant. "Let's get this business over with, so we can return to our quarters before dawn." Gamal raised his booted foot onto a tree stump and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knee, and lowered his voice. "No dissension now! We have already agreed we must kill him."
    Kill whom? Keriam’s spirit body turned cold. Merciful Goddess, these men are plotting murder!
    The bald man stepped forward, shaking his fist. "Do it and get it over with!"
    "Think before you speak, Dothan! We must proceed with caution." Roric paused. "First, we must bribe a few government officials. Blackmail others. That will take time. The Lug Festival would be the best opportunity for killing him,” he said, looking at the other two. “Don’t you agree?” Receiving affirmative replies, he continued. “Gives us months to plan. And all the crowds there will make it easier for the assassin to disappear among the people and escape.”
    The Lug Festival, only four moonphases away. Keriam drew back, pressing her hand to her mouth, then gasped when her hand passed through her face.
    Roric Gamal recaptured her attention. "We know the king intends to invite King Barzad of Elegia to Avador soon to discuss forming an alliance between the two countries. Last thing we need. If we can keep Avador weak, we should have no trouble gaining control of the realm." He set his foot on the ground and drew himself up to his full height. "But if Avador forms an alliance with Elegia, there go our plans. We must kill the king!"
    Keriam sank to the ground. Her father! They were talking about killing her father! Goddess, no! They must not get away with this evil.
    "Agreed," the blonde man said. "But how do we accomplish this assassination? Remember, General Balor has the final word. Anything we decide must have his approval. Got to have the army behind us."
    "Of course," Roric said. "Now, I've given the plan much thought. Here's how we'll proceed . . ." 
    The warble of a bird alarmed Keriam, daybreak graying the trees.
A tug pulled her spirit back. No, not now! She must discover more of their plan.
    Within a heartbeat, Keriam found herself falling into her body, as if from a great height. She lay stunned, unsure where she was. At last recognizing her surroundings, she wanted to weep, so afraid for her father, her mind awhirl with panic. Somehow, she must discover details of the plot and warn him.
    No one knew of her spirit travels, but what if someone found out? She'd be accused of witchcraft, a practice forbidden in the kingdom. And no one was aware of her other mental powers, of her ability to discern a person's past or see into the future by touching that person. Unfortunately, this talent often didn't work when she needed it most. By the Goddess, why couldn't she see into her father's future? 
    As she heard her maid in the next room, a new fear crashed through her. What if Maudina found out about her nightly trips? Superstitious girl that she was, would her maid report her to the druids? Keriam prayed she wouldn't, hoping she could count on the maid's loyalty. Like all the servants at the palace, Maudina received a sufficient wage, and well-paid servants were more trustworthy than poorly-paid ones. Surely that fact would ensure the maid's faithfulness? 
    The druids held great power in the kingdom, and religion ruled the lives of all of the country's inhabitants. Keriam closed her eyes, imagining her punishment should she be reported to these wise men. If found guilty, she'd be burned at the stake as a witch. Not even her father could save her, assuming he was still alive to try. Keriam said a silent prayer to Talmora, the Earth-Mother Goddess, to keep her father safe. Shifting her position, she thought hard. She must warn her father of the plot against his life without revealing her means of discovery. Would he believe her? He had to. She pushed her woolen bedcovers aside and slid out of bed, tired and groggy but determined.
    No one must ever learn how truly different she was.
__._,_.___



Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Spoilers?

Tomorrow, on my on blog, Dishin' It Out, I'm posting in depth about spoilers, and asking those who visit to share their opinions.  Reading reviews that give away your entire story are even more upsetting than just reading unfavorable comments.  I recently bemoaned the fact on the loop because my latest release, Sarah's Heart, ends in a fashion that some readers are really taking exception to.  I chalk their responses up to the fact that they didn't GET the story.  There is but one way to get my main characters together, and I found it.

My solution gives the reader hope that the hero and heroine can have the HEA that is so craved in romance, yet also gave me an opportunity for a sequel, which I am working on now.  Sarah's Passion will be a continuation of the story. Rather than assume one is coming, some readers would rather divulge the entire plot on a VERY public site, and not just spoil the ending, but discourage others from purchasing the book and drawing their own conclusion, and being able to look forward to reading more about Sarah and Wolf.  The lack of understanding exhibited by some is defeating at times, but giving in would let them win, and I won't do that.  I'm a good author, and I know it.

I'm very impressed by those who were historically savvy enough to realize the methodology to the ending and appreciated it.  I love the story.  Sarah is a courageous woman faced with making some very difficult decisions in life, and in this case, it seems she makes one that isn't popular with readers, but if you consider the time in history and her circumstances, it makes a lot more sense.

Here's an excerpt that helped influence the ending's outcome:

 
Wolf draped the naked hare across the empty coffee pot and began gathering more logs for the fire. He returned with an armful, and dropped them onto the smoldering cinders within the ring of stones. While the flames blossomed, he sat cross-legged on the ground, working on three longer branches. He skinned one clean, and using it as a skewer for their dinner, propped it across the pit with the other two as support.  The fire crackled and popped with each drip of grease splattering from the roasting rabbit; the delightful aroma teased Sarah’s nose. Rustic or not, dinner smelled wonderful.
Wolf sat with one knee bent and his arm resting atop it. He gazed into the distance, seemingly lost in thought.
  “Wolf,” she summoned him back. “How did you learn to speak the language?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Of course.”
“I was just five-years-old when my father, Charles Elder, was killed defending my red-skinned mother. We lived in Montana territory—migrating there after my parents married. A neighboring farmer and his family were slaughtered by a Crow war party, and an angry mob from town wanted my mother to pay for it. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her tribe—an Indian was an Indian.” His brow creased.
“That must have been horrible for you. If speaking about your past is hard for you, you don’t have to continue.”
“I’m fine. Pain is part of life.”  He leaned forward and pulled a browned leg from the cooked rabbit. Tender, the limp released into his hand without effort. He offered her the meat then yanked a second piece free, chewed a bite, and swallowed. “So, the town’s preacher heard what was being planned and came to our house before the others got there. He hid me and my mother beneath blankets in the back of his buckboard and took us to the church while my father stayed at home, planning to reason with the townspeople. The Reverend kept us in the chapel basement until dark and then drove us home. There wasn’t much left of the place. My father’s bloodied body lay in the yard, and the house and everything in  it had been reduced to smoldering ashes. The barn looked like they set it afire, but for some reason the building didn’t catch.”
“Why are people so hateful?”  Sympathy stabbed at her. Why had she asked him to relive his pain?  Although saddened she had, hearing about his past provided a connection between them. Maybe sharing the experience brought him closure.
 “What did you and your mother do then?”  Licking grease from her lips, Sarah leaned forward, anxious for the rest of the story.               
“Luckily we still had the wagon and team, and after traveling for weeks, Ma and I happened upon a Lakota village—one of seven Sioux tribes who follow the buffalo. My mother, Little Feather, intended to find her way back to her own people, the Dakota Sioux, but Lame Deer took a liking to her and made her his second wife.”
Sarah studied Wolf’s face. Despite his dark hair and olive skin, his hazel eyes revealed his white heritage. He had a striking profile—strong chin, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her heart fluttered, remembering how he had called her his wife. Her curiosity piqued. “So, how long did you live with the tribe?”
“I lived with the people until my sixteenth year. Spotted Fever took my mother and several others in the tribe, and with her gone, nothing held me there. Because I wasn’t full-blooded, most of those my age made it their callin’ to make my life miserable. In my younger years they shoved me and called me names, but as I aged and my body grew strong, the physical cruelty stopped. Still, there was always someone around to remind me I was an outsider.”  He removed the skewer stick with the remaining rabbit from over the fire and extended it toward her. “More?”
She shook her head, preferring to hear the story’s ending rather than eat. “So you left?”
“Yes. That was ten years ago, and I still haven’t found where I fit.” Holding both ends of the stick, he chomped into the rabbit’s hindquarter then wiped the juices on the back of his hand. Even though primitive and missing the manners she appreciated, Wolf was a very handsome man.
Sarah gazed down into her lap, her cheeks warming.  She had no business thinking such things about a man she barely knew. Thank goodness, she wasn’t small-minded enough to let his heritage determine her treatment of him, but once they got to Independence, she would thank him for his help and bid him farewell. There was no room in her life for a man, now or in the future. Still, she dared another glimpse at him through her lashes, fighting a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach.


Friday, May 18, 2012

"The Sacrifice" a romantic fantasy novella by Shirley Martin

She must die! 

No, Briana couldn't bear it. The holy day of Samhain approached, when the veil between the real world and the Otherworld disappears, and demons stalk the land. To placate the gods and protect the people on the eve of Samhain, the druids choose the most beautiful woman in the land to sacrifice--to knife to death!
 
A seer with special powers, Briana's adoptive mother knows it is Briana the druids have chosen to sacrifice. You must run, she tells Briana, escape! Reluctant to leave all she holds dear, Briana knows she must escape and flees in the dead of night.
 
The druids order their most trusted enforcer to capture Briana and bring her back. Why have they chosen him? Weylyn agonizes. He has loved Briana for years. Which choice will Weylyn make--love or duty? 
 

 Excerpt:

       
        Gods, no!  Today was Samhain!  They’d never get back to their village in time!
        They plodded on, and Weylyn’s face held an expression of grim determination.  But she knew the demons would find them tonight. 
     Darkness fell.  No!  She grabbed his arm.  “Weylyn–“
     ”Don’t say it.  There is a sacred circle nearby.  We shall take refuge there, for ‘tis said the stones will grant us protection.  And the sacrifice . . .”  He shook his head.  Was he happy they would arrive too late for the sacrifice–through no fault of his–or did he feel remorse that he had failed the druids, no matter how great his effort?
   “Soon, Briana, soon we shall reach the circle of stones.” 
     The fog densed, and moisture dripped from the trees.  She clenched her hands and looked in all directions.
     He pointed ahead.  “There!  I see it.  We’ll make it to the circle in time.”  Past thick strands of evergreens, they reached the circle of stones, set on a grassy, level plot of land.  He dismounted and lifted her down carefully, so she could lean against the stones.  “See, I told you–“
     Screams and howls rent the air, screeches and the heavy thud of feet.  The earth shook, the screams getting closer. 
     “Weylyn!”  Forgetting her ankle, forgetting everything but her horror, she clung to him.
 The horse bolted, rushing off into the night. 
      Weylyn shook his head.  “No time to lose!”  He picked her up and set her across the stones, then stepped over them. 
     Strange creatures moved among the trees, bright eyes shining in the dark.  A monster approached them, closer, closer.  No!  Gods, no!  Briana screamed.  
     “Weylyn, please, what are we going to do!”   She held Weylyn fast, her heart pounding with fear, with horror, with a terror greater than any she’d known.  His heart thudded next to hers as he pressed her body to his. 
     No, no, no! 
     The demon neared them, its eyes gleaming with intensity.  The stench of rotten meat fouled the air, and it grunted as it moved with slow, plodding steps.  Shorter than they, it had a solid build, its squat body covered with fur.  Saliva dripped from its mouth.  Razor-sharp teeth glittered as it opened and closed its thick lips. 
     “Stay behind me, Briana!”  Weylyn threw off his cloak and drew his sword from the scabbard.  The demon breached the space between them, only feet away.  It grunted as it moved, swaying with each step. 
     Faint with fright, Briana threw off her cloak and tugged at one of the stones to hurl it at the demon, but they were too big for her to dislodge.  She glanced up.  “Weylyn, look!”  Another brute menaced them, then another and another. 
     Weylyn’s head turned from left to right, his body flexed to fight.  How could he defeat them?  The demons would get them, devour them.  Gods, save us!
     The earth shifted beneath them.  Briana pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a scream.
     “Briana, hold onto me!”  They moved back together, the monster still advancing.  No matter how they moved, the ground shifted, then gave way.
     “What?  What?”  Briana screamed again.  She clung to him as they plunged down, down, down, until she thought they would fall forever.  They finally stopped, and in spite of her sore ankle, she felt as if she’d landed on feathers.
     “Well, now.”  A feminine voice greeted them. “We have company.  How nice!  We don’t get visitors often.”
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