Book Promo And Vignettes By Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

Book Promo

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.– SAH

FROM PAM UPHOFF: Best Enemies

Hayden Jaeger, youngest son of the Chairman of the Council and Ambrose Vinogradov, the youngest son of the Founder, were thrown together by random chance as they were assigned to be dorm mate at the University. It was not an instant friendship.

300 years before the fall of the Troystvennyy Soyuz, the foundations of a secret society are about to be laid down . . .

FROM NATHAN C. BRINDLE: An American in Iya (Timelines Universe Book 8)

Over 200 years ago, a Plague overran the world, and 9 out of 10 human beings died.
In a small Japanese village on Shikoku, a group of American tourists found themselves stranded — and in grave danger of being murdered, merely for the sin of being 外人 (gaijin).
Luckily for them, their Japanese hosts took pity on their plight, and took them in as their own.
This is the story of their descendants — who still, more than anything, wish only someday to go home. That is . . .
. . . if they still have a home to return to.

FROM SAM SCHALL: Warbound Legacy: Betrayal Among the Stars (Honor & Duty Book 9)

A decade ago, Fuercon and its allies won the war with the Callusians. In the years since, peace reigned, and the horrors of the war became a distant nightmare. However, that peace is an illusion. A new enemy lurks in the deepest shadows of space, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Not everyone, however, is blind to the danger. Brigadier General Ashlyn Shaw (ret.) remembers the war that came close to costing her life and sees too many similarities between the early days of the war and now. Others see it as well. Unfortunately, they are the minority and too many choose to ignore their warnings.

As they work to identify the source of the threat, a new generation attends the Basilone Military Academy on Fuercon. Among them is Jake Shaw, Ashlyn’s son. He and his fellow cadets are set to take part in training cruises during the summer between their first and second years. It is a rite of passage for them and a chance for the Academy instructors to see how they react to military life onboard a working military cruiser.

FROM SCOTT MCCRAE: Jewels Of The Feathered Serpent (Jeff Galleon Adventures Book 2)

Second in an exciting new series of adventure novels by master storyteller Scott McCrea!

When archaeologist Steven Mauceri is stabbed by a mysterious figure wielding an ancient obsidian knife, California surfer and beach bum Jeff Galleon is dragooned into accompanying the wounded man and his family on an archaeological dig in the Philippines. The expedition survives murder and kidnapping attempts, but will they keep their lives once they enter the ghastly underground temple of the great god Quetzalcoatl?

Jewels of the Feathered Serpent is the second Jeff Galleon Adventure by Western Writers of America Spur Award finalist, author Scott McCrea.

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON OGDEN, REVIVED BY D. JASON FLEMING: The Long Fight (Annotated): The Classic Pulp Western

For years, old Solomon Heiskell told anyone who would listen that his land had oil in it. After years of drilling, and finding nothing but dirt and rock, his son Ared gave up the dream and took up sheep farming, even as so much oil was being discovered a few miles away that Oil City sprang up overnight. But when his flock is slaughtered in the night, and his father vanishes, Ared uses his remaining capital to buy a drilling rig and hire out to any of the smaller landowners in the area that will have him. The big money doesn’t want competition from wildcatters, they want control. And his father’s reputation as an eccentric shadows the son.

But come what may, Ared Heiskell has signed on for — The Long Fight!

  • This iktaPOP Media edition contains a new introduction giving the novel historical and genre context.

FROM RUSSEL WORKING: The Insurrectionist

Denied a promised posting in Paris, Ian Landquart, a reporter with the storied Chicago Bullet newspaper, is shunted off to a suburban bureau and assigned to redact racist language from the historical archives.

To salvage his career, he investigates an elephant-owning farmer who protested nonviolently on Capitol Hill on January 6, 2021. But as Ian gins up an FBI probe, he learns that his progressive teenage daughter is dating the farmer’s conservative, gun-owning son—ensnaring the teens in the case.

With a Swiftian eye, The Insurrectionist lampoons the news media, our woke era, and government overreach in J6 prosecutions. Defying the official narrative, The Insurrectionist explores the abusive nature of politicized prosecutions.

FROM RACONTEUR PRESS, WITH STORIES BY ZAN OLIVER AND LEIGH KIMMEL: Steam Rising: Tales of steampunk and wondrous inventions (Raconteur Press Anthologies Book 35)

Steampunk. It’s not just a genre, it is science fiction in its purest form. In this collection, you will read of the ways that technology could both help and harm mankind. Steam power took a special kind of bravery to use and master, and the people who live in a steam-powered world adjust to that need: engineers, inventors, tinkerers and experimentalists of every kind and every manner imaginable.

Within, you will meet clockmakers and war-widows, steamship captains and airship pilots; you will see wailing engines race and clanking automata strut. Hurry on! The engineer is feeding the coal, and says she’s raring to go.

See that red lever over there? Grip ‘er tight, and heave forward the throttle…

FROM MACKEY CHANDLER: A Sudden Departure (April Series Book 9)

The Earth below is a house in disorder. The spacers increasingly just want to be left alone. They need less from Earth all the time so many don’t really care what they do down there on the Slum Ball, but what if improving technology made it easier for them to bring all their old factions and sects and rivalries among the stars? The three partners April, Jeff and Heather hope to beat them at that game and find a firm foothold out there before the Earthies arrive. The book is also laying out details leading up to the merge of the “April” series of books with the story of the “Family Law” series.

FROM MARY CATELLI: Magic And Secrets

Tales of Wonder and Magic A woman, sent to a far off duchy, finds a mysterious wolf haunting the forest, and learns there are secrets no one even suspects. Playing with props for amateur theatricals has more consequences than any of those doing it dream. . . act with care. A king’s tyranny sends a woman searching desperately for a legend of lions, there being no other hope.

FROM HOLLY CHISM: Normalcy Bias: Look closer…things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: THRONE

20 thoughts on “Book Promo And Vignettes By Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike”

  1. For the most part…the Dawn Empire never went into ostentation that a lot of royalty viewed as important. They’d look at the Iron Throne of Westeros and go “you’re trying too hard.” The same with the Peacock Throne of the Mughal Emperors.

    But when the Dawn Empire goes for thrones, they go all out.

    The Dawn Throne, sitting in the Imperial Throne Room, is an example of this. It’s platinum with gold inlays, sitting on a stone platform nearly three feet high. The throne itself is huge-the back alone is almost ten feet tall, wide enough to sit two adults side-by-side. The throne is intricately worked in gold and silver inlays-not just decorations but wards and protective spellwork. The Imperial insignia-manticore and dragon, roses and lilies, with In The Service Of Mankind in High Imperial scrolled below-sits just above your head like the Sword of Damocles if you lean back ever so slightly.

    And there’s a single velvet pad that you sit on.

    Nothing else.

    People have sneered that this thone, often.

    They only sneer at the Empress Theodora once.

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  2. The sheer power of the Ancients almost overwhelmed the room for those who could see and use the Ultra Power.

    They were seated together in the front of the room in chairs the same as the chairs of their audience.

    Mathews thought “With all their power, they don’t need thrones to appear important.”

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  3. The cave troll roared as it was driven into the grand meeting hall by its great-orc handler.

    A half dozen royals had long fled, leaving their seating arrangements in disarray before the balcony. The troll seized the ornate chairs, flinging them into the canyon beyond the balcony rail.

    Far below the balcony, a secret gate opened out into the valley, where the escaping royals saw their throng of thrown thrones, smashed to gilded kindling.

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  4. The cave troll roared as it was driven into the grand meeting hall by its great-orc handler.

    A half dozen royals had long fled, leaving their seating arrangements in disarray before the balcony. The troll seized the ornate chairs, flinging them into the canyon beyond the balcony rail.

    Far below the balcony, a secret gate opened out into the valley, where the escaping royals saw their throng of thrown thrones, smashed to gilded kindling.

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  5. “Wise of them,” said a grave voice that caused Sylvie’s head to jerk about. He wouldn’t come this close, would he? “Outwitted by a princess who in time will take the throne as a wise and prudent queen, but for now is still a child.”

    “Papa!” shouted Sylvie, and ran across the forest floor. Guards moved about them, but she did not stop before she threw her arms about her father’s neck. He held her tight for a moment, and then freed her to look about.

    Master Gregor was embracing Hendrick, and Sylvie giggled.

    “Now we must catch the duke!”

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  6. The wizard rubbed his hands together, knocking dirt off, as he moved away from a bed of blue flowers. “Is it really a concern of the throne’s whenever a wizard moves in?”

    The wizard watched him warily as he moved, and Hendrik grinned. Then he shrugged.

    “Why, whenever anyone does. There are those who, if you believe it, are frightened to come to speak to the knights at the post. Or even when we leave the post. And then things go awry. And painful and messy. Much better to have our neighbors know they should call upon us at need.”

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  8. Robertson backed up the truck as close to the palace steps as he could, given the limitations imposed by the vehicle and the debris from the battle for the palace. A quick signal to one of the…soldiers? He supposed victory lent all the legitimacy required…and it was waiting time.

    The sandwich he fished out of his pack wasn’t much of a meal, but it would do until he got back to the improvised barracks that had once been one of the capital’s lower-end hotels. It was a small miracle it was spared serious damage; several wards had been all but leveled during the week and a half battle to bring the putative “Emperor of Eurasia” down. He did not go easily. Tyrants seldom do.

    After a few minutes he could hear the noise as the makeshift ramp was secured and the powerlift emerged from the shattered doorway. Its cargo–and soon his–the former throne of the genocidal madman who once held sway over two thirds of humanity. It had seen better days. He was not privy to its intended fate, but whatever it was, he noticed nobody had bothered to clean the blood off where its former owner met his fate. Just as well, he decided.

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  9. Codyland is the wealthiest land in all the Eight Worlds of Ixil-sun, and Codytown the wealthiest city. So I’d assumed the Heir to Cody would have an appropriately ornate cathedra from which to preside over the Archdiocese. Perhaps made of kellenwood intricately carved using Codyland’s famous power tools, like the presidential chair in his titular church in New Rome on the Lake Called Bitter, on Terra Ixilonicus, only larger and more imposing.

    But when I went to Holy Name Cathedral in the Crystal City at the heart of Codytown, I was astonished to discover a chair of almost Grecian simplicity, with three panels portraying Jesus flanked by St. Peter and St. Paul. The sort of thing one might expect at a minor diocese of an impoverished land.

    The rector must’ve noticed my astonishment, for he explained that this episcopal throne is a great treasure, having been brought through the worldgate from Cody’s cathedral back on Lost Earth. Over the centuries it’s received careful repairs here and there, touching up the finish or replacing cloth cushioning, but always respectful of the integrity of its historical importance, especially in the long centuries when Tharishon was isolated, when it was their only link to the Church as a whole.

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  10. What is it about cats’ noses? They’ll sniff your shoes, no matter how bad your foot odor. And Heaven help you if you don’t latch the bathroom door when you’re doing your business. Just why do cats have to be so fascinated by you when you’re sitting on the throne?

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  11. Derivative, yes…but here it is, fifty words on the nose:

    The Throne was his at last. The road was perilous, the work arduous…but things once done are done.

    He saw – oh, he saw – how men he’d once named friends looked at him askance. How his wife paced the halls, scrubbing at her hands.

    But the Throne was his. At last.

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  13. I wonder if the Liberals/Democrats,Scumsuckingdemonsfromhell, ever consider that a position of a world without borders mean the laws of other nations means nothing to them and that puts them on the worlds throne. That they don’t want to save all those illegals but to enslave them to replace the now uppity blacks who won’t vote the way they like as much as before. You are not toeing the line persons of color, for that we shall replace you, so no reparations for you, suckers. Just what is that doing to other nations and their rulers and people? The Liberals/Democrats,Scumsuckingdemonsfromhell want to force all those nations to their heel, the heel of the Marxist tyrant. I laugh as they slip on their collars and leg irons as they complain about their ancestor being in the same place, enslaved by the same people as before. Here is your sign, Slave, wear it proudly.

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  14. I know the LORD is on His throne. And I know we are in a fallen world. I know I, too, am a sinner who needs a Savior, needs mercy and forgiveness, and must throw out hatred from my heart and mind.

    But when I heard about the six hostages murdered in Gaza, I felt a little of the spirit of Curtis Lemay instead of God’s Holy Spirit, driving my thoughts.

    “If you kill enough of them, they stop fighting,” said General Lemay.

    Maybe. But we have too many of who CS Lewis, in his book, The Abolition of Man, called “men without chests.” We would likely need to kill all the Palestinians and their sponsors in Iran. The rest of the Arab world would likely applaud in private; but rattle sabers in public.

    And then the lost NPCs who made up the BLM/Antifa mobs would need killing. And then… and then… and then…

    I’m ready for Jesus to come back before we become more terrible than the murder cults we coddled.

    https://spritesanddice.com/media/images/Xcom_2_War_of_the_Chosen_Lost.width-1080.jpg

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  15. Anna reached for her third piece of buffet-hour pizza. “So Faerie is like a big monarchy, only with two thrones and two courts to go with ’em?”

    Kathleen smiled, no, smirked, just the littlest bit. “In the roughest way that’s even true; but it’s both simpler and more complicated than that.” She took a swallow of iced tea. “Say it like that, you tend to see some Middle Ages or Renaissance royal court, or maybe Louis XIV at Versailles back when it was new. Or possibly Rasputin, the Romanovs, and all that mad howling blizzard of intrigue and oncoming disaster. But we and the Fae are fundamentally different, too, so it’s a bit of a misleading picture.” And licked a smear of tomato sauce off one finger. Her ‘mountain accent’ had gotten not so much stronger as more often and more clearly in evidence.

    “If you could compare humans to dogs, with all the overt status stuff and hierarchial top-dog signals and the pack mentality — and the ape-band is not too dissimilar from wolves or dogs — then the courtly Fae are a lot more like cats. They absolutely do have status and rank, they also fight for their place in that hierarchy when it’s indicated; but it’s far more a subtle and implied and mutually-signalled thing.” She reached over for the shaker of Parmesan cheese. “Ever heard how your dog wants to be reassured he’s earned his place in your family, while your cat waits to be sure she’s ready to adopt you into hers? A lot like that.”

    Melanie was content, just right then, to simply sit there and eat her own slices of pizza and soak it all up. Still a bit dazzled, after getting so used to being literally ‘solitary’ — someone alone in her religion, most of the time, alone in her study and use of magic. This was… new.

    Pity it’d taken something so very wrong happening, to set it all going.

    “So a throne, the idea not the piece of furniture, doesn’t mean the same thing as with a human court or monarchy. There’s this idea hiding in the background, or occasionally spotlighted in the foreground, that sitting on the throne, or having the crown on your head or the scepter in your hand, whatever the symbolic ‘investiture’ is, does much or most of the job. The clothes make the man, or at least make the kingship, so to speak. But it’s pretty deeply different with the Fae.

    “They’re a lot more about the relationship, and that’s a deep thing in all its history and ramifications most of the time; and it’s relationship not only to a few people or several ‘oligarchic’ major nobles, but everyone in the room. Never mind how the furnishings, and I do include Fae servants or even the odd human or outright slaves in that, can be splendiferous to put the most overdecorated bordello in Nuh-Ohlins to shame; it’s mostly a set of props. The real roots of ostentatious power are the people, and for it to be worth much, the people in question have to be there by choice.” She made a quarter of a piece of pepperoni-olive-yellow-pepper pizza vanish in one attentive, slow-nibbling bite.

    “Words, I mean traditionally agreed-on words not the kind decreed from on high somehow, tend to settle out in a best form, sort of like ‘simulated annealing’ in programming; so they represent a kind of folk-wisdom way to suggest how you might look at things. Well, they call them the Seelie and Unseelie Courts for a reason; and the ‘court’ thing being front and center is part of that wisdom-of-viewpoint. The king or queen exists as such in and because of his courtly context; take that support away, and it’s still a monarchy for a while, only the same way a cut flower is still a bloom.”

    And she leaned back in her chair a little. “And you’uns will have to be sure to tell me if I fall too much into lecture mode, it’s already a far stretch for me sometimes to swap back and forth between Lowlands and Home and Class and Office and… this we’re doin’ right here, between-us.” She shook her head a little, rather ruefully. “Near to four dozen years now on this Earth, for me, through all I’ve been an’ done, here an’ in Italy and France and so-forth; and still not rightly used to it all yet.”

    “No, you’re doing fine, Kathleen, I mean it’s, well, really a lot of fun and far more than I’d ever expected to run into, anytime soon. Something of a blessing, actually.” Anna said it brightly; but somewhere in the back of the words ‘run into’ was a half-memory of running hard across a bog in not-quite-Earthly pale, dim-faded moonlight… that she simply let lie.

    And Melanie just quirked a half-smile, of a kind now well-known. Yes I do know what you mean, yes I’m still here, no I’m not going anywhere as long as you want your best friend in all this strange world at your side.

    “I half can’t believe we’re actually having this conversation, I do have to confess, Professora, I mean Kathleen of course. Right out in the open of a pizza place in town.” Her hand, the one not holding her you-serve-it Sierra Mist, waved vaguely at the couple-dozen students and townsfolk in a window-lit airy little space, on up to its white pressed-tin ceilings.

    Kathleen chuckled. “Not exactly the stuffy Faculty Club stereotype, is it, Mel? But here’s ECC and here’s huge ol’ bustling Sidonia, three thousand feet up if it’s an inch above sea level, and so we just talk. Everybody who comes here gets used to it, or soon moves on. Now, gross profanity or obscenity, or a few other no-not-here things, are off in a different world; but you can discuss your Dungeons and Dragons game or your differential-geometry proof or your mine-the-asteroids scheme, it’s all cooked up in the soup together.” Another big slug of ‘sweet’ tea, made sweet enough there was no need or use for sugar.

    No way in — heck, am I going to say the ‘W’ word here, about me or anyone else, scrolled quietly across the back of Mel’s mind.

    “Just last week I learned more about how hydrogen bombs work than ever in all my born days before; and it wasn’t even weapons, they were adapting an old design from the very first H-bomb test to work to move asteroids. Runs on liquid heavy hydrogen, no scarce lithium in it, though you do need an A-bomb to light it off. They say if you tune the fireball temperature just right, X-rays heat the outer few inches of your asteroid to vapor and make it your reaction mass.” She chuckled. “Sorry if that-all went by too fast, and don’t expect me to sensibly answer questions on it; but like the man said all those years ago, ‘specialization is for insects.'”

    And they all drank, not formally but quite literally, to that one.

    “So… to maybe cut a little bit too quick to the chase scene, do you even maybe think the Good People might..?” Melanie nodded, briefly, at Anna.

    “In a word, no. Not likely.” Suddenly Kathleen’s voice was lower in level and noticeably, well, flatter. “Never mind that little hunting expedition that turned up in your dream-recall; that was almost certainly a case of selling the Fae a lemon-car. Not the sharpest tool in the drawer, whoever of our axiomatic Bad Guys made that ace move.

    “But why would they care, much, otherwise? And how would they help even if they decided they wanted to?

    “Yes, most Fae are Courtly Fae, of one Court or the other. You could think of ’em as Lawful and Chaotic and not be bad wrong; but even closer, you could think of the Seelie Court as the one that relates to each other as persistence predators, and the Unseelie Court as the one that relates as ambush predators. Again, analogy and metaphor, but… useful.”

    Kathleen refilled her half-glassful of tea from the waiting clear plastic pitcher, and wordlessly offered some to the two college students. “One of the heaviest-lifting words there is ‘predators’ — now we’re all predators too, of course, as much as we three love meat; but it’s still not a plus.

    “Best to look elsewhere; and most of all, still yet, to ourselves.”

    (Based on a pre-existing setting I truly never expected to turn up here!)

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  16. Took me a bit to sort through all the competing settings for this one! The past in my first won out, though.

    “Are we agreed, then?” Nicolae asked.

    The armored man in the hooded cloak at his right simply nodded while the one in the brown and black robe to his left said “Damn straight!”

    “All of us agree, too.” the elven woman in black across from him stated, the statuesque blonde elf to her left nodding and the redhead to her right grinning.

    “Then let’s not waste any more time.” he said, waving their server over. “This should cover all of our expenses, as well as a little extra for the trouble.”

    Her eyes went wide at the amount of platina coins the young man deposited on the table. Nicolae gave her a reassuring smile, knowing she had to be wondering how they could possibly cover all the alcohol Cathan and Iris in particular had put away during this meeting. Having a large travel budget from both his parents and King Lev certainly had its advantages.

    “No stumbling, you two.” Adara chided, giving both her red-haired companion and the magician a stern look as she pushed her chair in.

    “Sheesh! I’m not that much of a lightweight, Adara!” Iris grumbled, though she was a little slow to rise to her feet.

    “What, you don’t think I know a remedy or two for outings like this?” Cathan said with a smirk, though he, too, was a little unsteady as he rose.

    Adara and the cloaked man kept an eye on their companions as they exited the tavern. The group walked towards the Pillar Shrine when the silent man stopped and swore. The group stopped and reached for their weapons, following his gaze. It landed on a woman in a royal purple cloak with her hood down. She had shoulder length black hair, a face that was better described as cute than any kind of pretty, and bright grey eyes. Yet the most striking thing about her was the sword strapped to her back: a claymore with a bright silver hilt and pommel, rose patterns etched into the sloping handguard despite ending in the traditional four circles.

    “Someone you know, Aidan?” Adara asked, giving the woman a suspicious glare.

    “…Yes,” he sighed. “Stay your hand, everyone. She isn’t going to attack us. She is, however, about to give me a splitting headache.”

    “You! Big! JERK!” the woman shouted, running straight to Aidan and poking an armored finger in his breastplate. “Do you have ANY idea how hard it was to find you?!”

    “…That was the whole point, Cordelia,” the cloaked man stated. “Disappear and let my family work their business out without me.”

    “Work their…? UGH!” the woman growled, switching from poking Aidan’s breastplate to pounding it with her fist. “You listen here Stef – “

    “Dammit, not so loud!” Aidan snapped, cutting her off and brushing her fists aside. “This isn’t the time or place for that!”

    “Um, Nicolae?” Shaina asked, raising an eyebrow at the scene in front of them. “Who is that and what did she almost call Aidan?”

    “Lady Cordelia Blythe of Argyros,” he answered. “Daughter of Baron Reynold, a renowned swordmaster in the Empire. As for the other part, well… It’s not my place to reveal Aidan’s secrets, but let’s just say he’s of interest to the Emperor of Argyros.”

    “It has to do with that sword of his that he keeps under wraps, doesn’t it?” the sable-clad elf asked, making note of the weapon. “That’s no ordinary weapon by any means.”

    “Correct on both counts,” the Zharan noble replied. “But anything more…ah. It seems like the argument is settled.”

    “I know I don’t need to introduce her to you two, Nicolae and Cathan, but I must do so for our elven friends,” Aidan sighed, gesturing to the woman next to him, who wore a triumphant smirk. “Cordelia, this is Shaina Rapp, Iris Flynn, and Adara Jaeger. They’ve got their own interest in our mission so we’re working together. Shaina, Iris, Adara, this is Lady Cordelia Blythe. She’s a…friend of my family.”

    “Friend of the family? Really, St – uh, Aidan?” the woman pouted.

    “If you can’t be discreet I’m going to have some Aquitaine privateers drag you all the way back to the palace, Cordelia.” Aidan stated coldly.

    “Oh, fine!” she huffed before giving the three elves her biggest smile. “Glad to be working with you ladies, and you too Nicolae and Cathan!”

    “She won’t slow us down, will she?” the blonde elf asked, giving the newcomer a skeptical look.

    “I can vouch for her sword arm, Adara.” the cloaked man said. “As for her…exuberance, she’ll tame it if she doesn’t want me to keep that particular promise.”

    “Uh, yeah, what he said. So where are we headed?” Cordelia asked, falling in next to Aidan as Nicolae led the group forward.

    “The Pillar Shrine,” Shaina replied. “We have reason to believe the priest knows more than he’s letting on.”

    “Well, lead on everyone! I’ll be here to help!” she said cheerfully giving Aidan a knowing smirk and a wink.

    Aidan simply sighed as the group walked forward. If there was any force at work in his life it was the Crimson Dragon and his devils of the Abyssal Plane. How else had Cordelia Blythe of all people managed to track him down to a backwater like this? Worse, it was no longer a matter of time before his connection to the Argyros throne became known to people it shouldn’t. It was when.

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