Excerpt from The Merchant of Dreams by Anne Lyle (giveaway)

THE MERCHANT OF DREAMS

by Anne Lyle 

Chapter I 

Mal leant over the ship’s rail, scanning the shore for any sign of a wreck. The mistral had swept the sky bare, leaving the coast etched in hard lines by the cold clear light of a January morn.

“There,” he said at last, pointing to a dark shape on the beach.

Coby joined him at the rail. “Are you sure it’s the skrayling carrack, sir? Those timbers could belong to any ship.”

“You still don’t believe me.”

“I—‘ Her head drooped, expression hidden by the hood of her cloak. “It’s been more than a year, sir. I thought…I thought all that was over.”

It’ll never be over, he wanted to tell her. Not whilst I have this thing inside me.

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Excerpt from The Straits of Galahesh by Bradley P. Beaulieu (giveaway)

THE STRAITS OF GALAHESH

By Bradley P. Beaulieu

***

The akhoz galloped more than ran, their long limbs loping over the ground faster than it appeared they could. Their lips were drawn back, their dark tongues hidden behind blackened teeth, making them appear vengeful and ravenous.

Nasim’s sandals scraped over the ancient stone. His nerves willed him to flee. But he would not. This girl, this very girl, was the first of the akhoz. There was little that remained of Yadhan, but he recognized her by the shape and tilt of her head, her delicate features, and the small scar at the nape of her neck.

And he’d also felt in his memories that a connection had been made to each of the akhoz that Khamal had created. In the nights that followed, Khamal had gone on to perform the ritual again and again, sacrificing more and more children to the grisly fate that awaited them. And they had held a bond with him, a loyalty. Surely part of this was borne from the piece of the Atalayina Nasim had found, but it was also a bond to Khamal, and if Nasim were right, that bond would still exist with him. It must—Khamal wouldn’t have allowed it to happen any other way—but that didn’t stop Nasim’s heart from beating like a blacksmith’s hammer.

The akhoz were nearly on him when Nasim spread his arms wide. It was a gesture of supplication that Aramahn gave to hezhan before they communed.

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Excerpt from Knifesworn by Mazarkis Williams (and giveaway)

KNIFESWORN

By Mazarkis Williams

§

Thrashing churned the water, white foam, tinged brown with river mud. Grada knelt on a broad stone bedded in the shoreline, her arms elbow deep, wringing as she had wrung out the robes of the wealthy many times before.

Muscles bunched across her shoulders. Jenna had always said she was strong. Ox-strong, head-strong.

Further out the river slid past, green-brown, placid. Somewhere a widderil called out its three-note song with all its heart.

§

They had come from the thickness of the pomegranate grove, two of them sticky with sweat, laying down their pruning hooks as they saw her. Both of them old enough for wives, young enough for wickedness, stripped to loincloth and sandals, white-orange blossom from the second crop clinging to their chests and arms. The men had angled Grada’s way as she walked in the shade at the margins, where trees gave way to the river road.

‘Hey, girl!’ The taller of the two, both of them wiry with white teeth behind their grins.

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Excerpt from The Garden by Teresa Frohock (Giveaway)

I'm not a talented writer; the words don't gush from my mind onto the page. I have a tendency to bite off more than I can handle, so I wind up crafting my novels relentlessly, reading them, re-reading them, shaving a word here and adding a scene there.

The chapter that Justin is going to post here at Staffer's Book Review is much like Guillermo, Diago, and Miquel in that it’s been through many incarnations. The chapter may have a few left to go before The Garden sees publication. I'm okay with that.

You're going to meet Guillermo at the start of his journey. Portions of the chapter are graphic and there is profanity.

You've been warned.

Welcome to the Garden ...

***

THE GARDEN

By Teresa Frohock

The Iberian Peninsula, Épila, Aragón, July 21, 1348

“Hush,” she said. “It’s the moon.”

Chapter One

Cloaked in a haze of smoke and dust, the sun went down on the city of Épila. The clamor barely settled over the battlefield when the royal señors ordered the King’s caballeros to search for survivors and plunder. No one held much hope for either. Unlike the sun, Épila would not rise at dawn.

Guillermo reined his skittish horse to a halt midway down the alley and scanned the smoldering buildings for any sign of movement. Smoke wisped across the ground where bits of pottery and scattered furniture laid discarded and broken.

Several yards ahead, the street opened to a field that led to a vineyard. The Unionists had set fire to their own crops and the homes on the outskirts of Épila in an effort to force the King’s army into the open, but their strategies failed. The laborers couldn’t withstand the experienced caballeros of King Pedro’s Aragonese nobles and the Castilian mercenaries who rode with them. The King ordered Épila to be razed; it was rumored that he intended to sow the ground with salt until his councilors stayed his hand.

Somewhere in the distance, a wail pierced the air. The cry ceased almost as soon as it began. Guillermo looked over his shoulder when hooves beat on the hard-packed earth behind him. His hand strayed to his sword hilt, but he didn’t draw his blade. He doubted the riders were Unionists. The last of the Union army already fled to the rear lines to protect their pretender, the infante Ferdinand.

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Excerpt from and Blues Skies from Pain by Stina Leicht (Giveaway)

AND BLUE SKIES FROM PAIN

By Stina Leicht

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Ned McCoy said, pulling a pistol from his pocket. Something in his voice said he almost regretted the request.

Liam left his hands on the steering wheel of the idling RS, and attempted to hide his nerves behind his balaclava. He wasn’t sure how successful he was. However, he supposed a certain amount of anxiety would be expected in anyone facing the business end of a gun. “Am thinking of having a cig. Is that all right with you?”

“Go ahead.”

Liam didn’t move to fish the cigarettes Frankie had given him from the jacket’s inside pocket, not yet. “Will you have one?”

Ned paused. “I will at that.”

Reaching inside Conor’s jacket, Liam grabbed the cigarettes and offered one to Ned. Afterward, Liam glanced at the watch he wore turned so he could see the face on the inside of his wrist. Eight o’clock. Although the moon was nearly full, it was dark in the alley. He pulled his lighter out of his blue jeans pocket in order to offer Ned a light.

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Chapter One of The Tainted City by Courtney Schafer (Giveaway)

THE TAINTED CITY

Chapter One

(Dev)

I wedged my fingers higher in the crack snaking up the boulder’s overhanging face. A push of a foot, a twist of my body, and the overhang’s lip was nearly within reach. Good thing, since I had to finish this little warm-up climb fast, or risk a whipping if the shift bell rang before I got to the mine. Dawn’s light already streaked the gorge rim far above me with gold, though it’d be mid-morning before the sun rose high enough to touch the reedy mudflats here in the gorge’s depths. Beyond my boulder, clumps of men in grime-streaked coveralls trudged toward the yawning black mouth at the base of the cliffs. Lights bobbed in jerky rhythms within the tunnel as the night haulers hurried to finish sacking their quota of coal.

“Spend one instant longer crawling up that rock instead of joining your crew, boy, and I’ll choke you blind.”

The torc around my neck heated in warning as overseer Gedavar spoke. I jerked my fingers free of the crack and dropped to land in the mud at the boulder’s base. Sudden sweat laced my palms. What in Shaikar’s hells had brought Gedavar sniffing around? With the day shift soon to start, he should be relaying the minemaster’s orders to the crew chiefs, not skulking about behind the prisoners’ barracks. The thin copper disc of the stolen glowlight charm hidden beneath my sock cuff felt large as a wagon wheel.
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Excerpt from Trinity Rising by Elspeth Cooper (Giveaway)

TRINITY RISING

By Elspeth Cooper

It was almost Ninth when Sorchal ambled along the covered walk at the side of the practice yard, his coat over his shoulder and his shirt untucked. Gair turned from first position and propped his sword point-down in the dust in front of him, leaning on the pommel. This was the third time this week the Elethrainian had let him down.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said dryly.

Grinning, Sorchal swept him a florid bow. ‘Good morrow, sir Knight! Goddess’s blessings to you on this fine morning.’ He staggered as he straightened up, which rather spoiled the effect.

‘Are you still drunk?’

‘Very probably.’

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The First Chapter from Rapture by Kameron Hurley (Giveaway)

RAPTURE

By Kameron Hurley

“Then We which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall We ever be with the Lord.” Bible, Thessalonians 4:16-17


"Whoever works righteousness, man or woman, and has faith, verily, to them will We give a new Life, a life that is good and pure, and We will bestow on such their reward according to the best of their actions." Quran, Chapter 16, Verse 97

1. 

Every time Nyx thought she’d gotten out of the business of killing boys, she shot another one.

 
He lay bleeding at her feet as the spectators for the weekly fights streamed past, muddying the dusty street with his blood. She had not meant to shoot him, but she was drunk, a common condition during her exile. The boy had grabbed clumsily at the knot of her dhoti where she kept her currency. Her response had been unthinking, like breathing. She had pulled the scattergun from her hip and shot him in the chest. It was the only weapon she carried, these days, because she was generally such a poor shot. After nearly seven years in exile without incident, she hadn’t expected she’d ever use it. What a boy his age was doing on the street instead of at the front, she didn’t know. He was likely a deserter anyway.

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An Excerpt from King of Thorns by Mark Lawrence (Giveaway)

The following short passage is extracted from deep within King of Thorns and I hope gives something of the book’s flavour.

Mark Lawrence

I took myself to the courtyard where my levies, subjects, and bannermen waited, crowded rank upon rank before the gatehouse. Knights from Morrow to the left of the portcullis, armour gleaming, swords in hand. To the right more knights, plate- armoured, the noblest sons of Hodd Town, my capital down in the valleys to the north. No doubt they had come to win the king’s favour and honour for their houses. Young men in the main, soft with gold and more used to lance and tourney than blood and ruin. I saw Sir Elmar of Golden among them, his armour radiant as his name implied. A warrior, that one, despite his finery.

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