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Trained all his life to serve the
will of the Great Goddess, Kherin is her Chosen,
her warrior, mage and priest. The prophecy at his birth told of great things. Betrayed
by one he trusted and taken far from his homeland, he is given as part of an
annual tribute to a barbarian chief in payment for border protection
With enemies on the borders of his
land threatening invasion and enemies within the tribe working against him, Rythian
has no time for the whims of deities. He fights his god’s intent every step of
the way. But Kherin is at his side, training him in his new god-given powers.
Two very
different men, united to be forged in the fires of betrayal and conflict to be
living weapons in a greater conflict. They learn trust, friendship and love so
they can become weapons for their gods to wield.
Excerpt
Chapter One
The Goddess weaves a tapestry, and in it
are all the colors and all the threads that have ever been and will ever be.
Here and there in the design shine brighter strands outlining Her will, while
more such filaments wait in Her lap to be incorporated. She winds one onto Her
shuttle and it glistens, moon-silver and bright…
From the rise where he waited, his bay
mare shifting nervously under him, Kherin could see the remains of the village.
An acrid smoke from the burned out buildings drifted on the warm wind, biting
at the back of his throat. The raiders had done their worst with it and its
inhabitants two days ago, which was when word had come to him that the
so-called Free People had not turned from their outlaw path. They were now
threatening the borders of the Khassan Empire. As Khassan's Warlord and
Commander, Kherin had summoned his Khori, his elite guard and the pick of the
nation's army. They had ridden hard to the desert fringes, but by the time they
arrived, there was nothing to be done for the people of the village save avenge
them.
The rules of warfare temporarily leashed
the Khori's wild desire for blood. The enemy must be warned, must be given the
chance to leave in peace and go back to their arid homeland, to keep that peace
and trouble Khassan no more. Kherin had sent a messenger with the terms at
dawn.
Automatically Kherin soothed his horse as
she tossed her head and snatched at the bit. It came to him suddenly, as such a
Seeing always did, that something was about to happen—something that shadowed
the sun and chilled the sweat that trickled down his spine. More fatalities?
Defeat? The Khori did not acknowledge defeat. While he had led them, they had
known only victories. He was the Chosen
and Consort of the Goddess, ever under the shelter of Her wings. He reminded
himself of this, yet still the eerie feeling persisted. Whatever was coming, it
smelled as rank as the drifting smoke, forerunner of death and betrayal.
The banners above his head rippled lazily
in the warm wind. He could hear the chink and creak of mail and leather behind
him. His two captains, Tarvik at his left and Jeztin at his right, glanced at
him, perhaps sensing his unease. Jeztin, friend of his boyhood, brother in all
but blood, would know what was in his mind, as he always had. It was a shared thing
that had saved both their lives over the years. Silently he sent a prayer to
the Goddess. Let me be mistaken. Let this not be a true Seeing.
It was a prayer he already knew was fruitless.
Two riders were approaching—no, two horses. One with a rider, and one a led
horse, wild with terror of what it carried. Just out of bowshot, the rider
pulled up, and the other horse galloped crazily up the hill. Kherin found the
horse's spooked mind with his own, calmed it enough to let Jeztin ride to where
it stood, head down and trembling, its burden a shapeless mass strapped to the
saddle, leaking blood.
Kherin
and Rythian's story continues in the sequel, Sunfire and Shadows.
Please note - this book has non-explicit m/f, m/m, f/f. Its Heat Rating is low.
