Tuesday, May 26, 2009

CSFF Blog Tour: Tuck by Stephen Lawhead


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this time we're showing Tuck, the final book in the King Raven Trilogy.
*edit*unfortunately the net was out so I couldn't request a copy of this book and I don't recall if I remembered or forgot to opt out of the tour this month so here's the post for the book anyway






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"Pray God our aim is true and each arrow finds its mark."

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King Raven has brought hope to the oppressed people of Wales--and fear to their Norman overlords. Along the way Friar Tuck has been the stalwart supporter of King Raven--bringing him much-needed guidance, wit, and faithful companionship.

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Deceived by the self-serving King William and hunted by the treacherous Abbot Hugo and Sheriff de Glanville, Rhi Bran is forced to take matters into his own hands as King Raven. Aided by Tuck and his small but determined band of forest-dwelling outlaws, he ignites a rebellion that spreads through the Welsh valleys, forcing the wily monarch to marshal his army and march against little Elfael.

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Filled with unforgettable characters, breathtaking suspense, and rousing battle scenes, Stephen R. Lawhead’s masterful retelling of the Robin Hood legend reaches its stunning conclusion in Tuck. Steeped in Celtic mythology and the political intrigue of medieval Britain, Lawhead’s trilogy conjures up an ancient past while holding a mirror to contemporary realities. Prepare for an epic tale that dares to shatter everything you thought you knew about Robin Hood.


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Stephen R. Lawhead is an internationally acclaimed author of mythic history and imaginative fiction. His works include Byzantium, Patrick, and the series The Pendragon Cycle, The Celtic Crusades, and The Song of Albion.

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Stephen was born in 1950, in Nebraska in the USA. Most of his early life was spent in America where he earned a university degree in Fine Arts and attended theological college for two years. His first professional writing was done at Campus Life magazine in Chicago, where he was an editor and staff writer. During his five years at Campus Life he wrote hundreds of articles and several non-fiction books.

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After a brief foray into the music business—as president of his own record company—he began full-time freelance writing in 1981. He moved to England in order to research Celtic legend and history. His first novel, In the Hall of the Dragon King, became the first in a series of three books (The Dragon King Trilogy) and was followed by the two-volume Empyrion saga, Dream Thief and then the Pendragon Cycle, now in five volumes: Taliesin, Merlin, Arthur, Pendragon, and Grail. This was followed by the award-winning Song of Albion series which consists of The Paradise War, The Silver Hand, and The Endless Knot.
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He has written nine children's books, many of them originally offered to his two sons, Drake and Ross. He is married to Alice Slaikeu Lawhead, also a writer, with whom he has collaborated on some books and articles. They make their home in Oxford, England.

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Stephen's non-fiction, fiction and children's titles have been published in twenty-one foreign languages. All of his novels have remained continuously in print in the United States and Britain since they were first published. He has won numereous industry awards for his novels and children's books, and in 2003 was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters by the University of Nebraska.

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bio taken from the author's website

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the Author's Website



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my net was unfortunately down during the time Tuck was offered so I didn't get a copy, but I have read the first two books of the trilogy and by the way Scarlet(book2) ended I know Tuck is wonderful.

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I have thoroughly enjoyed the first books in the King Raven series. They have very interesting twists for the Robin Hood legend. But in reading why the author choose this route for the story it makes the legend itself seem like it could have actually happened.

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I loved in Scarlet that Will Scarlet reminded me of Captain Jack Sparrow from PoTC....ya know...mind basically only on rum, rum and more rum. XP

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Totally can hardly wait to either borrow Tuck from the library or get it from the store. I SO wanna know how it ends!!!
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Wednesday, May 6, 2009

funny Doctor Who spoof...starring David Tennant and Catherine Tate!!!!

okay for all you Doctor Who fans out there I found a skit from the Catherine Tate show and it has David Tennant as the special guest star!!!
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this is totally cool and funny and anyone who likes Doctor Who I think will love it. or even if you just like funny skits I think you'll enjoy it.



Tuesday, April 28, 2009

exhausted

wheww.....this has been a tough last few months....
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okay we finally got an awesome new place and have been working on fixing it up the last couple months but we unfortunately haven't had the net for a month+ until a day or two ago>.<
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so at least I could make up a couple things of things on my paintshop program (which look totally cool if I do say so myself...I'll try to post them soon)

Thursday, April 23, 2009

CSFF Blog Tour: Blaggard's Moon by George Bryan Polivka









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This month we're reading the pirate novel Blaggard's Moon by George Bryan Polivka.








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"This is the story of the great battle between the pirates of the




world and the band of merciless men who would purge us from the seas




and make the name Hell's Gatemen a source of terror to us all."




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Thus begins the tale told by Ham Drumbone, a pirate storyteller with a gift




for dramatic detail. It is recalled by Smith Delaney as he awaits a gruesome death




at the hands of ancient beasts called mermonkeys, who are eager to devour his




bones. In the process of remembering, this simple pirate ponders in his always




earnest and often whimsical way the mysteries of true hearts wronged, noble love




gone awry, dark deeds done for the sake of gold, and the sacrifces made for love.




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For Ham's story is about Damrick Fellows, the great pirate hunter, who works his way ever closer to the great pirate king Conch Imbry, only to find his focus blurred by his love for the pirate's woman, Jenta Stillmithers.




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By the time the tale ends, Delaney must come face-to-face with himself, with his choices, with the power of love, and with a God who promises him both a hell richly earned and a grace given where none is deserved.




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A swashbuckling fantasy story for all ages from Emmy Award-winning author




George Bryan Polivka.




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To venture further into the Kingdom of Nearing Vast visit http://www.nearingvast.com/








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George Bryan Polivka was raised in the Chicago area, attended Bible college in Alabama, then traveled across the seas to Europe where he studied under Francis Schaeffer at L'Abri Fellowship in Switzerland. He then returned to Alabama where he enrolled at Birmingham-Southern College as an English major.




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While still in school, Bryan married Jeri, whom he met his freshman year in college, and now his wife of over 25 years. He also was offered a highly coveted internship at a local television station which led him to his first career as an award-winning television producer.




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In 1986, Bryan won an Emmy for writing his documentary, "A Hard Road to Glory," which detailed the difficult path African Americans traveled to achieve recognition through athletic success during times of racial prejudice and oppression.




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Bryan and his family eventually moved to the Baltimore area where he worked with Sylvan Learning Systems, (now Laureate Education). In 2001 Bryan was honored by the U.S. Distance Learning Association for the most significant achievement by an individual in corporate e-Learning. Bryan is currently responsible for developing and delivering new programs for Laureate's online higher education division.




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Bryan and Jeri live near Baltimore with their two teenage children, Jake and Aime.








Author's website




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Now since I haven't read Mr. Polivka's trilogy yet I first thought this was a sequel, but I figured out over halfway through that it's actually a prequel to the Trophy Chase Trilogy. But even though I haven't read the trilogy I still followed along pretty well.




The story was strange since we kinda have two different narrators, Delaney Smith (the man currently stuck in the pond surrounded by piranna and awaiting his fate of being dismembered alive by mermonkeys) and Ham Drumbone (the story teller on the pirate ship Delaney was on....before he was stuck out on the pond)




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I highly enjoyed the story. (I have a softspot for pirate books/movies)




It was a bit disgusting and gory in parts but with pirates and piranna and mermonkeys how could it not be?




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I thought Delaney Smith was funny and pretty sweet guy underneath it all. I was really feeling sorry for him throughout the book.




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I thought the ending was very cool and definately wasn't expecting it. Totally awesome!




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I'd definately recommend this book for anyone who likes pirates. Even if you don't like pirates it's totally funny so it might make you a fan of pirates yet.




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btw, I started reading it to my mom and she even enjoyed it (even though it's kinda violent in some points)




oh and my mom was impressed that Mr. Polivka studied under Francis Schaeffer. (my mom likes Francis Schaeffer's books alot)
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Wednesday, March 18, 2009

CSFF Blog Tour: Hunter Brown and the Secret of the Shadow by the Miller Brothers


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This month we're showing Hunter Brown and the Secret of the Shadows by the Miller Brothers (Allan and Christopher Miller)





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Strange visions...hideous monsters...startling revelations...Hunter Brown never expected a summer like this, and it’s only getting started! After one of his infamous pranks backfires, Hunter unexpectedly finds himself in possession of an ancient book and key. Little does he know the mysterious book is a gateway to Solandria, a supernatural realm held captive by the Shadow.



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In Solandria, Hunter joins forces with the Codebearers, a band of highly trained warriors who form the Resistance to the Shadow. But before he can complete his training in the ways of the Code of Life, Hunter is sent on a mission far more dangerous than he ever bargained for. Now with his life in peril and the future of Solandria hanging in the balance, Hunter is headed for a showdown with the Shadow and a battle to save his soul from a fate worse than death!



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Is Hunter’s knowledge of the Code deep enough to uncover the secret of the Shadow, or will the truth be more than he can bear?



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you can read all the book for free online here!



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The Codebearers Series was developed by the creative brother team of Christopher & Allan Miller. The Miller brothers have had the distinct privilege of growing up in a CBA Bookstore. As children they learned first hand the value of faith-based stories while helping their parents operate several Christian bookstores and book clubs for 30 years. As a result, they founded Lumination Studios, a creative house that is geared toward developing stories of faith and fantasy for families everywhere. Their focus is to create properties that boys will especially love to read and watch.


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In addition to being authors, the Miller Brothers are both formally trained with a degree in Computer Animation and Multimedia Design. They have worked as animators for the popular CBA kids video series, Juniors Giants, and have recently written and illustrated a childrens picture book series entitled "Heroes of Promise" (Warner Press Kids).


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The dynamic duo's unique artistic style lends itself well to both print and video publication and is sure to be a hit with families seeking values-based entertainment products. Lumination's product line, which includes the newly released Heroes of Promise product line, and the Codebearer's series will comprise of: Books Graphic Novels Musical CD Products Web-based Products Animated Films Games & Toys.


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I started reading this book on the Miller brothers' website and started reading it to my mom.

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we both really liked it but then we got sucked into playing the codebearers game and I got stuck at the clock part. <.<

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anyway I finally finished reading it (the holiday vacation was exhausting) and I absolutely loved it!

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one thing though that definately sticks out about the main character is that he's definately not saved yet. the trying to be "cool" by lying keeps backfiring (as it usually does) and there were times I was wanting to either hit Hunter or strangle him. but that definately makes him human and we can definately relate to him.

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Hunter seems to improve at the end so I'm really happy about that, and I'm eagerly awaiting the next book.


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Monday, March 16, 2009

Daniel's Den by Brandt Dodson

Today we're featuring Daniel's Den by Brandt Dodson.


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In this book we are first introduced to a pretty well to do stock broker named Daniel Borden. In his office there was recently a death of one of the brokers so Daniel has to go over the accounts to make sure all is right and everything. And he'll find something that will change his life from that point on......


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Meanwhile in a different state we meet Bed&Breakfast owner Laura Sky and her adorable son Andy. A nasty old man is trying to force Laura to sell her B&B (which was her late husband's dream) and doesn't seem to be able to take 'no' for an answer.
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So when Daniel is forced into running for his life he meets Laura and Andy and they're all pulled into one big coverup. With double agents and multiple murders will they survive?


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I absolutely loved the book.


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I thought the first part was a bit slow, but it definately started to speed up. I kept trying to guess what would happen next but I kept getting surprised.
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Definately would recommend this book to those who want a bit of mystery and a bit of thriller.


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Brandt was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana, which he would later choose as the setting for his Colton Parker Mystery series. Although he discovered in grade school that he wanted to be a writer, it would be another twenty-one years before he would put pen to paper.


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"I knew in fifth grade that I wanted to be a writer. Our teacher had given each of us a photograph which we were to use as inspiration for a short story. The particular photo I was given was of several young men playing handball in New York City. I don't remember all of the particulars of the story now, but I do remember the thrill that writing it gave me."


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In high school, Brandt's English teacher uncovered his growing desire and encouraged him by saying: "If you don't write, you'll regret it the rest of your life"
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Later, while in college, one of Brandt's professors would echo that teacher's comment.


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"But life intervened and I found myself working at a variety of jobs. worked in the toy department of a local department store, and fried chicken for a local fast food outlet. Over the course of the next several years I finished my college degree and worked for the Indianapolis office of the FBI, and served for eight years as a Naval Officer in the United States Naval Reserve. I also obtained my degree in Podiatric Medicine, and after completion of my surgical residency, opened my own practice. But I never forgot my first love. I wanted to write."


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During his early years in practice, Brandt began reading the work of Dean Koontz whose work re-ignited the desire to write.


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"I discovered Dean's book, The Bad Place, and was completely blown away by his craftsmanship. I read something like 13 or 14 of his back list over the following two weeks. It wasn't long after that I began to write and submit in earnest."


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Still, it would be another twelve years before Brandt was able to secure the publishing contract he so desperately desired.


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"I began by writing the type of fiction that I enjoyed; I wrote edgy crime thrillers that were laced with liberal amounts of suspense. Over the years, I've begun to write increasingly more complex work by using broader canvases and themes.


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"I love suspense — thrillers.It's a genre of fiction that allows me to tell the storiesI want to tell."


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Since securing his first contract, Brandt has continued to pen the type of stories that inspired him to write when he was a boy, and that have entertained his legions of readers.


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"I love to write, and as long as others love to read, I plan on being around for a long time to come."




Found on his website




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Wednesday, February 18, 2009

CSFF Blog Tour: Cyndere's Midnight by Jeffrey Overstreet

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This month we're showcasing Cyndere's Midnight *or lovingly referred to by some as Cyndere's Hottub* which is the brilliant sequel to Auralia's Colors by Jeffrey Overstreet.

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Warning to readers here and now. do not be surprised if I put any spoilers in this post. so....if you don't want it to be spoiled you have been warned.

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When a bloodthirsty beastman discovers Auralia’s colors, his conscience awakens. When the heiress of a powerful kingdom risks everything to help him, their lives--and the lives of a kingdom--hang in the balance.

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“Cyndere walked down to the water to make her daily decision — whether to turn and go back into House Bel Amica, or to climb old Stairway Rock and throw herself into the sea…”

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In Cyndere’s Midnight, the power of Auralia’s colors brings together a bloodthirsty beastman and a grieving widow in a most unlikely relationship… one that not only will change their lives, but could also impact the four kingdoms of The Expanse forever.

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Jordam is one of four ferocious brothers from the clan of cursed beastmen. But he is unique: The glory of Auralia’s colors has enchanted him, awakening a noble conscience that clashes with his vicious appetites.

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Cyndere, heiress to a great ruling house, and her husband Deuneroi share a dream of helping the beastmen. But when Deuneroi is killed by the very people he sought to help, Cyndere risks her life and reputation to reach out to Jordam. Beside a mysterious well–an apparent source of Auralia’s colors–a beauty and a beast form a cautious bond. Will Jordam be overcome by the dark impulse of his curse, or stand against his brothers to defend House Abascar’s survivors from a deadly assault?

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Critics hailed Jeffrey Overstreet’s first fantasy novel, Auralia’s Colors, as “exceptionally well crafted,” “beautiful,” and “masterfully told.” Now he continues weaving this fantastic tapestry with an enchanting fairy tale for ambitious imaginations of all ages.

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Jeffrey Overstreet is a novelist and award-winning film reviewer.

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A contributing editor for Seattle Pacific University’s Response, his work has also appeared in Risen, Paste, and Image: A Journal of the Arts and Religion.

His reviews are published at LookingCloser.org and regularly featured at ChristianityTodayMovies.com.

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A frequent lecturer at universities, arts conferences, and film festivals around the country, Jeffrey lives in Shoreline, Washington, with his wife, Anne. Cyndere’s Midnight is the second novel in The Auralia Thread series.

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first and foremost: I ABSOLUTELY LOVED CYNDERE'S MIDNIGHT!

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I was disappointed though that we only saw Auralia in memories and flashbacks but Cyndere's a pretty cool character too.

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I really like Jordam (and his backstory with Auralia) and his ongoing struggle and am very interested to learn more about the beastmen and their 'curse'.

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totally love that aleboy from the first book is back and is one of the more main characters. (love that they're calling him Rescue) and that he's kinda a superhero....dadadadaaaa batman! B-)

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anyway I am ticked that Cal-Raven seems to have a bit of a crush on another gal (still would want Auralia to end up with him....or the guy that turns up at the tail end of Cyndere's Midnight. well...assuming Auralia's still technically alive....gee I really am hoping that she is. I just LOVE her. and her wildchildness.)

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oh and we get to see more of Cal-Raven's tutor...and we get to see Dukas! ya know...Auralia's big cat friend that got shot at in book1? he totally seems like a bit of a pampered cat.

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totally can hardly wait for book3 Cal-Raven's Ladder. though I'm totally sad that last time I looked it said it'd be out in 2010. *cries* NOOOOO!!!!! I need more of the Auralia Strand!!!!

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sooo.....if ya'll need a interesting complex fantasy series to read you know what to get.

Auralia's Colors and Cyndere's Midnight!

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amazon.com link

cbd.com link

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HERE'S A SAMPLE OF THE BOOK!

THE HEIRESS AND THE OCEANDRAGON

Cyndere walked down to the water to make her daily decision—turn and go back into House Bel Amica, or climb Stairway Rock and throw herself into the sea. It had become a habit. Leaving her chamber early, while the mirrorlined corridors were empty of all but servants, she would traverse manybridges, stairs, and passages and emerge on the shores of the Rushtide Inlet, escaping the gravity of distraction.

Today in the autumn bluster, she wore her husband’s woolen stormcloak at the water’s edge. She brought her anger. She brought her dead. While the fog erased the wild seascape, waves exploded against the ocean’s scattered stone teeth, washed wide swaths of pebbles, and sighed into the sand.

They carried her father’s whispers from many years past, mornings when he had walked with her along the tide’s edge and dreamt aloud. His bristling grey beard smelled of salt, prickling when he rested his chin on her head. He would place one hand on her shoulder and with the other hold a seashell to her ear. “Hear that?” he’d say. “That’s your very own far-off country. You will walk on ground no one has ever seen. And I’m going to find it for you when I venture out to map the Mystery Sea.”

He had done just that. While Cyndere’s mother, Queen Thesera, stayed home to govern her people within House Bel Amica’s massive swell of stone, King Helpryn discovered islands, sites for future Bel Amican settlements. A shipwreck took the king when he tried to cross a stormy span between those islands. Within hours of the report, Bel Amica’s cloud-bound cityturned volcanic with theories and superstitions. From one sphere of their society to another, all the way down to the shipyards of the inlet, the people competed to interpret their ambitious king’s demise, their rumors full of words like iceberg, pirates, and oceandragon. The Seers, quarrelsome as gulls, debated whether this might be a portent of judgment by the moon-spirits or whether Helpryn’s celestial guardian had reached down from the sky and carried him away to live in his own peaceful paradise.

Meanwhile, Cyndere mourned the loss of her father’s smiling eyes, his confidence in her, his vision for her future. “You will walk on ground no one has ever seen.” From the day he vanished, the young heiress never grew taller, and the sun was burnt out of her sky. She did not weep. Given no chance to mourn in private, she concerned herself with the comfort of her mother and her older brother, Partayn. Partayn slept with his head on the windowsill as though he listened for the king’s counsel in the ocean’s roar. Did those crashing lullabies awaken his father’s wanderlust within him? She wondered. King Helpryn had answered the call of the horizon, but the boy would set sail on a different sea, striving to master all manner of music. Partayn’s quest was tragically brief. When an armored escort carried him southward to study the music of House Jenta, an ambush of Cent Regus beastmen silenced his songs.

The people, having only just regained their footing, were cast into despair. Even Queen Thesera believed someone had cursed House Bel Amica.The pressure of an impending inheritance fell hard on Cyndere. She was expected now to stand beside her mother and prepare to take her place someday. More urgently, she should find a husband, bring a new generation of royalty to Bel Amica, and ensure that the line of Tammos Raak, father of the four houses, would continue. But Cyndere had already determined that she would not become her mother. She still dreamt of breaking ground all her own. She was capable. She had the respect of her people, and in Bel Amica’s courtrooms she was famous for her temper and tenacity. Her helplessness to save her father and her brother only stoked her passions to help others and prevent further calamity.

Such ambitions made her lonely. As her people groped for distractions to numb their fears, the Seers provided potions for reckless indulgences. Those meddling conjurers caught even her mother with their hooks. The thought of inheriting such counselors made Cyndere want to sail for that faroff country of her own, wherever it might be. The sea’s call was more seductive every morning. Her days became rituals of counting the few, feeble cords that bound her to Bel Amica. Hope to become what her father had envisioned quickly dimmed. If it were not for Deuneroi, a young man who often fought with Cyndere in the court, she might have let the ocean carry her to her father. Even in the midst of their famous courtroom collisions, Deuneroi discerned Cyndere’s sadness. He saw her right through and wove subtle threads of sympathy into his eloquence. Sensing this, she conspired that their feud should spread into private debate, and soon their minds and hearts were inseparably entangled, furious in love.

Before long, Cyndere realized that while two cords had broken, a new cord had been strung. Deuneroi became her consort, her refuge, strong enough to keep her from the sea. Today she missed hearing the footfalls of Deuneroi’s casual stride. He was off, led by courage she both admired and resented, to search for survivors buried in the rubble of the fallen House Abascar. She had tried to stop him. Tempers flared in their hottest debate. But in the end, she had surrendered, moved by his compassion and by his promise. “Deuneroi, look what you’ve done. This cat was wild once. Now he’s a lazypile of fur.” On their last evening before her husband’s departure, Cyndere sulked through their argument’s aftermath. Gazing into their bedchamber fireplace, she stroked a black viscorcat whose head filled her lap while his furry, muscled body sprawled limp across the braided rug. The viscorcat hummed, kneading the air with his claws.

“I don’t think he was ever very wild at all,” said Deuneroi, rolling a woolen tunic and pressing it into his pack. “Once I lured him into my campwith some fish, he warmed up quickly, as if he had known someone who treated him kindly before.” When fireglow lulled the cat into sleep, Cyndere bit her lip and gingerly untangled the snare around the animal’s tail. A prankster had tied a ring of keys there with a thread, then set him loose to run, terrified, with the keysclanging along the corridor behind him. As the knot slipped free, the cat raised his head and growled. “It’s all right now,” Cyndere whispered. “You’re free.” His purr slowly returned, resonating. She pondered the keys, wondered what they fit, and set them on the floor next to her. She touched the scar on the cat’s hind leg where Deuneroi had drawn out an arrow’s poisoned head.

“I’m glad you found him. That wound might have killed him.”

“I’m surprised he trusted me.”

“I’m not. You’re a born healer, Deun.”

“And so are you.” Deuneroi sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at her. “Then I should be going with you. If there are survivors in Abascar’s ruins, they’ll need special care.”

“Your mother will never let you venture into such danger.”

“What good is royalty if we just sit in our palace when people are in trouble?”

“Your mother’s lost too much already. She won’t risk losing you.”

“She’s not the only one who’s grieving, Deun. I’m grieving too. And I can’t bear the risk of this. Don’t go. Don’t put so much distance between us.”

“You urged your mother to send rescuers. Remember?”

“Months ago…and she refused to send help while it mattered. Now she’s just doing this to separate us, to interrupt our work. You won’t find anything in the ruins of Abascar except scavenging beastmen.”

“Then I’ll bring back some beastmen. We’ll have real subjects for our study.”

He was trying to make her laugh, but she would have none of it. He shifted to a softer approach. “Won’t you sleep better knowing that there’s nobody clinging to hope in Abascar’s ruins? We’ve both had nightmares, imagining someone trapped there, praying to the moon-spirits for a rescuer.”

“The people of Abascar don’t pray to moon-spirits. Didn’t.”

“This isn’t the daughter of brave King Helpryn talking. Where is the bold heiress who dares to dream even of curing the beastmen of their curse?” Cyndere pressed her lips together. She was angry with her mother, the Seers, and the court. She needed to strike at something, and Deuneroi was the easiest target. But she knew that he was right.

She reached for a poker and began to jab recklessly at the smoldering firewood. “Life was so much easier before Mother got word of our plans for the beastmen.”

“It was in the glen near Tilianpurth, wasn’t it? That’s where we first dreamt of taming them.”

“No more talk about the Cent Regus, Deun. Not if you insist on running off into their territory. You’re not ready for this road. You’re a court scholar.Will you stab at the beastmen with a scroll?” He sat down beside her. “I’m afraid too. But I lost faith in my fears a long time ago, Cyn. People used to tell me, ‘Deuneroi, you’re a weakling. When the soldiers eat what they catch on a hunt, you’re stuck with broth. While others run along the wall, you can’t climb a flight of stairs without losing your breath. You’re not fit for an heiress.’ But then an heiress proved them wrong.”

“This is different, Deun. You’re not a soldier. You’re not a ranger or even a merchant.”

“And I have no skill with horses or vawns. I couldn’t hunt a stag if you turned one loose in this very chamber.” He turned and looked her in the eye. “But I must do this. If we run into the Cent Regus, so be it. What good is this dream of helping beastmen if we’re too afraid to face them?”

Cyndere picked up a scrap of burnt firewood and began to sketch the outline of the viscorcat on one of the stone tiles. “You know what they did to my brother.”

“Your brother headed south with inexperienced guards. Your mother’ssending Ryllion with us. He can shoot the eye out of a rabbit running. He can chase down a fox in his bare feet. He can hear a flea on a fangbear. He’ll protect me. And don’t forget.” Deuneroi’s warm palm slid across Cyndere’s belly. “Your mother has a compelling reason to keep me safe.”

“She only wants a grandchild to extend the line of Tammos Raak.”

“But I want a child, Cyn, because you and I perform wonders whenever we work together.” He took the brittle charcoal from her hand and entangled his fingers in hers. “Don’t despair.”

She pulled her hands away, reached to massage the nape of the viscorcat’sneck. A ripple of white moved under her fingers as she stroked the black-tipped fur. The cat stiffened at her touch, murmured in delight, and then eased back into sleep. Deuneroi stood. “Remember the tigerfly?” She laughed, although she tried to avoid it. Deuneroi had rescued the bright orange insect during a walk in the woods around the faraway bastion of Tilianpurth. It had been trapped inside a curled leaf floating in the bucket beside the old well. “It sat in your hand for an hour.”

“And then it flew.When I go to Abascar, I’ll bring something out of those ruins. Something worth saving. I promise.”

“Right.” She dabbed at her eyes. “You promise.”

“I promise. And then we’ll go to the well at Tilianpurth. And celebrate.”

“Will we?” He knelt behind her, ran his fingers through her strawgold hair, andtipped her head back so he could look into her eyes. “Yes. Or you could just close your eyes and dream a little, and we could be there right now.”When she reached up to pull his dark hair down around her face, the cat grumbled, unhappy to have been forgotten. “Be brave, little bird,” Deuneroi whispered between their kisses. “Be brave.” Without her husband beside her, Cyndere felt exposed. The only remaining child of Queen Thesera, she lived with constant surveillance. Cyndere was the last link in the chain—and it felt so much like a chain—leading back to Tammos Raak.

She would never be allowed to walk unguarded. She would never walk on ground that had not been secured. The fog unveiled the long, winding stair down the rugged cliffs to the sandy strand. The chorus of waves grew louder. The cold grew mean. Cyndere would have her meditation, nevertheless. She would wear out those forerunners who scanned the path ahead and tax the strength of those who crept behind. The cold did not dissuade her. She was always cold. Buffeted by wind, she clasped Deuneroi’s black stormcloak at her throat. When she reached the beach at last, she left her silver slippers on the final stair. Her feet were numb with cold by the time she reached the line where the surf slid frothy beneath the fog.

A tree trunk nudged the shore, rolling and waving its sprawl of roots. Above her, two great lights gleamed like eyes—the rising sun, a coin of gold, and the setting moon, a pool of shifting shapes believed by the Seers to be powerful spirits. Every so often the fog strained at its seams and tore, and Cyndere peered through to the ocean. Once she saw a dark, departing ship, sails pregnant with wind, carrying dreamers her father had inspired. She scooped up wet sand and cast it into the rippling shallows, tempted again. Come out into the water, the waves seemed to say. Come out to me, my daughter. You have suffered so much loss. You can escape here in the deep, where I am waiting for you. You’ll never again have to worry about losing what you love. As the rippling tide washed over her feet, a commotion ahead of her broke the silence. Screams. And curses too dark for the morning. She stepped into the water and hid behind the tree stump as it rocked in the surf. Her forerunners ran, wailing, back toward Bel Amica. “Wyrm! Oceandragon!”

She braced herself as the freezing currents swirled about her anklesand her feet turned to ice. Water tugged at Deuneroi’s cloak. She felt a faint spark, the flare of her father’s courage. “Row,” he would have said. “Row against the current.” “Cyndere!” they were calling into the mist. “Heiress! Where is she?” The sound of their panic blew past. Cyndere splashed out of the tide. There it was. A jagged line of darkness ahead, like a mountain range. As it took on detail, she heard its hollow groaning. The oceandragon’s gargantuan form loomed, its snout resting on the sand, head large enough to swallow a herd of wild tidehorses. The fog withdrew, and she could see the spiked tip of its tail curling about and resting on the sand beside her, ten times the size of the harpoons her father had hurled at seawraiths and horned whales. She stood still, waited for the dragon to writhe and twist and thrash down upon her. “Is this what took you down into the sea?” she whispered to her father. “Is this what you saw as the ship came apart?” The fog thinned. The oceandragon’s eyes were hollow, the head but a skull. Its sides did not heave; they were no more than rows of towering ribs. Its tail, a chain with links of bone. Perhaps it had been dead an age. The sea had carried it into the inlet by night and cast it onto the shore, having taken every scrap of its flesh, offering up its unbreakable skeleton. That reverberating moan—it was only the wind moving through the skull’s cavities.

“Beautiful,” she said. She stepped through the gap of a missing tooth. The lower jaw was gone, probably resting at the bottom of the sea. Within the hollow thrumming of its head, she stood tall enough to see out through the gaping windows of its eyes. She reached out, touched the edge of a socket. What was it like to be an oceandragon? What was its purpose? Had it enjoyed the open sea, redirecting currents with the twitch of a tail or the fling of a fin? Did oceandragons sing, as some drunken sailors insisted? Or did the creatures think only of eating? She found a small, exquisitely detailed stone on the edge of the opposite eye. She set it on her palm, amazed, for it was an exact replica of the oceandragon’swhite skull, sculpted as only a stonemaster could shape it. She held it up to the light and looked through its vacant eyes. And then she laughed. “Scharr ben Fray.” She put it to her lips and blew softly.

The whistle’s tone struck a haunting counterpoint to the low hum of the dragon’s skull. He had been here. That eccentric old mage, so famously exiled from House Abascar when Cyndere was a child, had walked among these bones. Scharr ben Fray was known across the Expanse as a man obsessed with mysteries. And he had studied these bones already. His sculptures were his signatures, and this whistle in Cyndere’s hand was unmistakable. She would have given the whistle to Partayn for his collection, were he still alive. Scharr ben Fray had shown both her and her brother a grandfatherly affection during his occasional visits to House Bel Amica.

King Helpryn had coveted the old man’s advice and respected his knowledge of the Expanse. Partayn had pestered him for verses from songs he heard in his travels. The queen had only tolerated him, jealous of his stonemastery and his gift of speaking with animals. But Scharr ben Fraywas a solitary wanderer, appearing when least expected, slipping away whenever they tried to hold him. Cyndere stepped through the skull’s oceanward ear. The tide’s tentative shallows moved around her feet again, alive with wavering seaweed and scuttling crabs. She traced her fingers along the edge of the ribs, then stepped into their vast cage. These bones were gashed as if by claws or teeth. Either the dragon had died violently, or vigorous scavengers had carved up the carcass. When she pulled her hand away, her skin was smudged with black from the decomposing dragon bone. Not stopping to wonder why, she followed an impulse and traced the ashes around her eyes and across her forehead, thinking of her father. Another rush of water.

The tide was turning in earnest now. Cyndere tucked the whistle into her pocket. “You’ll regret missing this, Deun.” She felt a strong tug of the tether, longing to share all wonders with Deuneroi. That desire would bring her home again. Something moved. She turned, half expecting the mage. But this figure was taller and robed in something colorless. Light passed through it, and it cast no shadow. Her father’s courage flickered again. She stepped from between the oceandragon’s ribs to get a better look. But swift currents of fog moved in, erasing the phantom. She thought to call out, but distant voices approaching from Bel Amica distracted her. Walking back, clutching the whistle in her pocketed fist, Cyndere guessed that her guardians meant to rescue her. She hastened toward them, smug with her discovery. How Deuneroi would laugh. But then she slowed. Figures emerged from the mist. Their silhouettes became robes, wringing hands, fretful faces. Some were Seers, stalking forward like white mantises. Some, her attendants—sisterlies—in their heavy brown stormcloaks, with her lifelong friend Emeriene limping along ahead of them, one leg bound in a cast.

“Cyndere.” Emeriene opened her arms and stumbled forward in her haste as a mother lunges to save her child from a fall.
“Em.” Cyndere’s voice seized in her throat. Her body knew, somehow, before any tidings reached her ears. “No. Not Deuneroi…” Cyndere’s tether broke. Like a kite cut loose in a storm, she surrendered, turning and splashing out into the tide. Half in ocean, half in fog, she felt wet sand give way beneath her feet. Water closed over her head. When Emeriene’s hands seized Cyndere’s robes, the heiress of House Bel Amica fought to break free and dive into her father’s embrace.