Thanks for checking out the work of all the authors
participating in The 2014 Butler/Banks
Book Tour. This is a huge year for many of us, and we couldn’t do what we
love without the support of YOU, our readers! I hope you’ve been exposed to
your next favorite author and encourage you to leave honest reviews of our work wherever you purchased it! Your feedback
to other readers who share your interest is pure gold for indy authors.
Please enjoy the excerpt from my first novel, The Seedbearing Prince: Part I posted below. You can download it
for FREE on Amazon for a
limited time! The Seedbearing Prince:
Part II is also available—click here!
Dayn Ro’Halan’s adventures will continue in The Course of Blades, to be released
this summer—the third of six total books in the World Breach series. I’m really
excited about this novel, it’s going to be the best one yet.
That being said…let’s do a giveaway!
Rules are simple: send me a picture of yourself READING a
novel by ANY AUTHOR on The Butler/Banks
Book Tour. You use an e-reader? Great.
Reading in costume, or upside down? Even better! Go crazy—just keep it
SFW please! Share with me on Facebook,
Twitter, or Instagram.
I’ll post your pictures to my Facebook and happily send you
a FREE ebook of The Seedbearing Prince: Part II OR “The Course of Blades” when it
is released this summer. We’ll all pretty much be famous together. It’s all so
clear to me.
Let the photobomb commence, because this giveaway ends with
the last day of the Butler/Banks Book Tour, April 30th!
The Seedbearing Prince Part I: Prologue
The
torrent shifted again, and a thousand shards of onyx flashed to fire as Corian
swept through a roiling field of ice and stone. The sheath on his worn black
armor held, but would not last much longer. The stream of rock in the space
between the worlds drifted slower here, and boasted several floating mountains
large enough to hold a layer of air. Green ferns covered the surface of the
nearest, providing plenty of cover. Corian was tempted to stop and rest, but
crater wolves likely roamed in such thick foliage. The entire World Belt hung
on the message he bore to the Ring, and he could rest after his task was done.
A field of red granite stretched in the space above him like
the bizarre clouds of some nightmare, the individual boulders careening off
each other by the hundreds. Only the hardest minerals and metals endured the
endless pounding of the rock flow, and only the most foolish men would brave
such a swath of torrent. They were moving the direction he needed to go, into
the flow where the rock moved fastest. In
the torrent, speed kills, he reminded himself. He was the best courser
among the Ring’s Guardians, but the rock never cared.
Corian deftly attached a new talon to what remained of his
silver wingline, then heaved it. The metal hook took hold, his wingline snapped
taut, and the boulder yanked Corian into the flow. He repeated the process,
each time roping a boulder moving faster, until his last guide rock pulled him
along at hundreds of spans a second. A layer of white frost appeared on his
armor and mask in a blink. He reeled himself in and clung to the red surface,
like a flea riding a river bison in the middle of a stampeding herd. He watched
every direction at once from his perch, digging his gauntlets into the
crumbling surface. The boulder was actually some ancient rusted metal, not
granite as he first thought. The torrent here was so thick he could barely see
the stars, and it filled his ears with a distant roar.
He sped along this way
for some time, until he spied a pockmarked mass of stone and iron, large as a
dwarf moon. A cleft right down the middle threatened to split the entire thing
in half. A tower in the northern axis had seen more than its fair share of rust,
but the light strobing from it pulsed regularly, illuminating the smaller rocks
orbiting around it. As a whole, the wayfinder was ugly and old, but the mass of
rock was the most blessed sight Corian could imagine after a week of surviving
the torrent’s attempts to grind him to powder.
His next wingline took
him closer. If the wayfinder was powered as well as he suspected, he could use
the array inside it to find out where he was in the torrent, and see how close
the Ring lay. He might even find food and water, if peace favored him. A fellow Guardian must stop here often for
such an old wayfinder to be this well preserved, he thought.
Smaller debris pelted the wayfinder’s old crust,
disintegrating in flashes of light. The surface shone with hundreds of impacts,
large and small. Corian chose a crater near the old tower, perhaps seventy
spans deep with high walls that would offer good angles to slow himself as he
approached.
As he prepared to throw out another talon, dark shapes
poured from the wayfinder’s cleft. He stared for a moment, incredulous. There
could be no crater wolves on a wayfinder, with no game to hunt, unless they
were marooned after striking some other erratic in the torrent. No, those
shapes moved with a military precision, more lethal than the deadliest pack. He
could see them clearly now, massive men covered in black. “No. Not here!”
Corian barely recognized his own weary voice.
The voidwalkers had seen him. A pinprick of light shone on
the wayfinder’s surface, brighter than the tower’s regular strobe. He eyed it
mistrustfully as he searched for a place to throw his next wingline and change
his momentum. He spotted a tumbling boulder half covered with ice, moving away
from the wayfinder too fast.
The light near the voidwalkers flashed. A beam of energy
rushed into Corian’s path, hot as molten steel. A lifetime of coursing
experience kicked in, and he curled his legs up until his knees touched his
ears, rolling forward. The strange fire passed underneath him by less than a
span. He could feel the heat of it through his protective layer of sheath. The
beam burned past, and slammed into a rock fifty spans away. The tumbling
boulder barely even slowed in its course, but the spot where the weapon
struck—for there was no question that is what it was—glowed red hot at the
edges. The glistening center had cooled quick as glass.
Another pinprick of light. He twisted around in the
weightlessness of the void to point his feet back toward the wayfinder and make
himself a smaller target. It did no good. The beam rushed straight at him, and
his world turned red with pain.
An impact jarred him awake. Another. Corian opened his eyes.
I’m much too cold. The voidwalker
weapon had burned away his sheath. Layers of his black armor were peeling away
from the metal plates like paper curled in a fire. He had been caught in a
tangle of purple-rooted vines intertwined in a mile long cluster of the
floating rock, what Jendini coursers called a knotted forest. The roots were
nearly hard as stone in places. Dusty old bones from animals Corian did not
even recognize littered the tangles. Debris from the torrent stretched around
the forest in every direction, and errant stones pelted the mass of vines,
which he immediately recognized. Courser’s
nap, the whole forest is covered with it.
Corian reached into a compartment on his armored belt and
removed his last flask of sheath. He applied the clear liquid to his ruined
armor in quick, smooth motions, not leaving one inch exposed. The sheath locked
together in small patches of light, and his body’s heat immediately began to
warm the interior of the invisible, protective barrier. Once the sheath was
gone, his armor would not prevent the smallest pebble from killing him, if one
struck him moving fast enough. For the first time, Corian considered that he
may not survive.
This was to be his last circuit as a Guardian for the Ring,
and he held the hope that he would look into his grandchildren’s eyes back on
Jendini now that his service was finished. Yet his duty hung over him, heavier
than ever. In the distance he could see the world of Shard, verdant and green
just beyond the torrent’s chaos. His resolve hardened.
He slipped a speechcaster into his mouth and began to speak
as he worked himself free of the tangled vines. The small wafer could hold his
words in secret for a few days, should things go badly here.
“I am Corian Nightsong, a Guardian of the Ring. There are
Thar’Kuri warriors on the world of Nemoc. The voidwalkers have built a device
that allows them to…teleport themselves at will through the Belt. They are
gathering in numbers, preparing for an attack. There are captives from all over
the worlds imprisoned on Nemoc. The voidwalkers have weapons unlike anything
known from the Ring. They use energy and can attack over great distances. They
must have been made in the age before the Breach.
If you knew where to
look for this message, you must deliver it with all haste to Force Lord Adazia
on the Ring. The worlds all depend on you, for I have failed them.” The
admission filled Corian with bitterness, but he forced a strength he no longer
felt into his words. “My sons and daughters live in Denkstone, on Jendini. Tell
them…their father served well.”
One of the vines tangled around his torso began to quiver.
Corian looked down, fearing a leaf, but instead he saw a voidwalker, climbing
toward him. Corian was tall, but the hulking brute easily overtopped him by a
head. His glistening black armor looked as if it were melted to his frame, and
covered him from head to toe save two dark slits for his eyes. The vines broke
like dried mud in the voidwalker’s grasp.
Corian began to climb, scrambling further into the vines. He
did not bother to draw his sword, the voidwalker would overpower him in moments
if they were to fight.
“So afraid of an old courser?” Corian shouted. He pulled at
every vine in his path as he fled, but most of them were stiff and gray. Living
vines of the courser’s nap were purple and sticky, but the true danger lay with
the leaves.
The voidwalker’s gravelly voice called to Corian, cold as an
orphan’s gravestone. “Come to me, degenerate.”
Corian drew his sword, and began slashing his way through
the vines. They sparked as his blade struck, but gave way. He leapt through an
open space nearly ten spans across. The voidwalker followed without hesitation.
So strong. Corian knew the brute
meant to take him alive. He could not allow that.
He landed on a solid gray swath, fleshy beneath his feet. He
rolled and lunged just as the leaf stirred. A row of spikes slipped out of the
edges, thick as Corian’s leg and sharp enough to cleave a horse in two. Corian
barely cleared them. The voidwalker was not so lucky. His momentum carried him
right into the center of the carnivorous plant, which enveloped him with a
twist of blue-veined leaf. Steam issued from the folds near the plant’s edges
as it fed.
More pods of the
courser’s nap were coming to life, enlivened by the voidwalker’s screams.
Corian avoided the leaves wherever they stirred. He climbed and lunged and
dived through the vines, soon pulling himself to the edge of the knotted
forest. Pure torrent lay before him, an endless landscape of chaotic rock.
There was no clear flow in any direction, the individual boulders in the
skyscape crashed into each other in a hundred shattering impacts. I’ll leap blind and pray that my sheath
holds.
Another voidwalker tore himself out of the vines a few spans
away. Peace, but look at the size of him!
The voidwalker’s armor looked as chewed up as the oldest rocks of the torrent,
endless dents and scratches plastered the black surface.
“I’ve enjoyed hunting you, degenerate.”
Another courser’s leaf
reared up behind the voidwalker as he lumbered toward Corian. The leaf lunged
and took the voidwalker up, curling round and round as the folds of leaf
tightened. Corian allowed himself a moment of elation, but it was short lived.
A pale hand appeared on the side of the courser’s nap, and bright green fluid
poured out. The leaf whipped back and forth, emitting a piercing shriek as the
voidwalker pulled it apart piece by piece from the inside. Corian needed to see
no more. He leaped, and prayed the torrent would show him mercy.
Also available: The Seedbearing Prince Part II
Visit author's Davaun Sanders blogsite here
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