The bundled trilogy of Spells of Air published this week! All sorts of strange creatures threaten the wizard Orielle and her mercenary ally Grim.
Read on for an excerpt about the gobbers from Spells of Air ~
`Ware attack!
The words rang her awake. She woke to a horse’s terrified
neigh and the warning still rolling through her head.
Throwing back her blanket, she sprang up. “Grim!”
“Here.” Facing away from her, he stood with the horses on
the fire’s other side. He held Ghost’s reins. Eyes rolling, the dappled grey
strained at the reins. He kicked back, throwing dirt into the darkness. The
chestnut’s jug head arched forward, big teeth bared, like a snarl at something
beyond the ever-shifting light.
She scrambled into her boots then rushed to Grim’s side. “What is it?”
“Don’t know. The horses alerted. That woke me. Then
something tested the wards.”
Nothing moved in the smothering dark beyond the sphere of
firelight. Ghost made too much noise to hear anything. “Grim, did you use the
symbol of chaos that Lady Bone reminded us of?”
“Do you want to be in the Lady’s debt?”
“If I use it, since she gave it to me through her knight, we
would risk that. She did not give it to you. Can you not use it?”
“You’ve parsed a fine distinction. She, however, would sense
any disturbance in the element and interpret it however she wished. There.”
Twin shards of glowing green gleamed in the darkness. Then
they vanished.
“Wyre?” she whispered. “The whole pack of them?”
“Doesn’t smell like that.”
She sniffed. An acrid tang pierced her nostrils. The smell
reminded her—no, memory eluded her. “You should have called me earlier.”
“I didn’t call you.”
“You didn’t shout `Ware
attack? Look!” Again she saw the
twin gleam, joined by another pair. She flashed light.
In the brief seconds of the bright spell, two stunted
creatures stood frozen. Open mouths revealed fangs. One gripped a broken branch
like a club. The other twisted a coil of rope. Even in the spell’s warm yellow
light, their eyes glowed, like the partially-shifted wyre. Sickly green rimmed
their eyes, obvious sorcery in use.
Her spell faded. Leaves rustled as the gobbers shifted
position.
“How long can you hold that spell?”
Her power might not be great, her hoard of spells might be
few, but what she did have, she knew how to use. “As long as you need it.” And
she re-lit the bright spell.
He thrust Ghost’s reins at her and drew his sword. In his
left hand, he shaped a sphere, ghostly pale, swirling with the energy of
controlled Air. “Be ready.”
She remembered the gobber fleeing her camp. “It’s only two.
They won’t attack.”
“More than two. Be ready, Orielle.” On the word, he whirled and jumped behind
her.
She heard a high-pitched squeal, pig-shrill, and saw a trio
of the creatures dodging back from the swing of Grim’s sword.
A fourth gobber flung dirt on the fire. The flames
sputtered. More dirt landed on the fire.
Ghost tried to rear. She jerked his head down. “Not now.”
A hard thwack hit her leg. The branch-wielding gobber swung
again. She arced the bright spell at it. The creature screeched and dropped the
branch to cover its round eyes. It stumbled away, into another, the one with
the coil of rope.
Orielle shined the spell toward that one. Scrunching its
eyes, it swiped a free hand at her. She dodged the short claws and landed
against her horse.
Grim fought a trio of gobbers with the sweep of his sword.
Another stood at the fire, dropping dirt on the coals to smother any chance of
fire. Two crept behind Grim. She cast a hurried glance for her own safety and
saw more gobbers lurking at the verge of the mage light, eyes greeny silver,
mouths gaping to reveal triangle-sharp teeth.
The big chestnut stomped a gobber trying to grab his reins.
He kicked another behind him. She released Ghost. The horse reared back. A
gobber slid off his back. Runnels of blood dripped from his back and rump. With
an outraged neigh, the grey fled into the night.
Flicking up more power, Orielle swept away the creatures at
Grim’s heels. Then she whirled and blasted Air at the waiting gobbers.
Something dragged on her skirt. A gobber, claws dug into the
heavy cloth. It reached for her extended hand maintaining the bright spell. She
swiped at it. Chittering, it snapped at her hand. A gust of wind only lodged
the short claws deeper into her skirt. Remembering scrunched eyes, she directed
the mage light at its face.
The silvery glow left the round eyes. It yowled. Then it
snatched away, but those claws dug deep into cloth. Jerking around, it flailed
and scrabbled. The shifting weight destroyed her balance. She stumbled to her
knees.
A silvery coil dropped over her head. Orielle released the
wind spell to hook her fingers in the tightening rope. The gobber shrieked in
her ear. His strangling grip didn’t ease.
Hunter. Hunted. Who is who?
a strange frontier filled with magical creatures.
There she discovers sprites and wraiths, gobbers and wyre,
and the mysterious Dark Fae called the Kyrgy.
No comments:
Post a Comment