Excerpt!
Chapter Seventeen
Clurichauns
What makes a man something worth admiring and when will you doubt his worth? — Queen Didianne, in the reign of the mad queen
A buzzing brushed Aunia’s skin like a hive of bees as she lurched in a mad attempt to keep her footing. The smell of woods, perfumes, and herbs had disappeared and in its place was the stench of waste, unfamiliar food, and burning metal.
A village-full of voices swirled within the buzzing . . . one pulled at her plaintively, though she couldn’t make out the words. Dust skated over Aunia’s feet as she appeared in a long boxed-in area surrounded by bulging timber buildings covered in faded paint and smeared pitch. And pressed within this area were more people than she had seen in her entire life.
“I said let the child go,” a gruff voice said from behind her.
Aunia swiveled.
An older man with a broken-nose, well-muscled and tall, like Oskan from her village, stood in front of two men in red cloaks.
“We don’t take orders from you, Mason,” the shorter of the two red-cloaked men said. He yanked a small boy towards him by the arm and the child’s sandy-haired head bounced off his chest.
“He’s hungry is all,” the broken-nose man said. “I’ll pay for him.”
“Bugger off,” the red cloak said.
Aunia stepped forward. “You can’t let a child go hungry.”
Several of the people glared at her.
“Shut your mouth, rover,” said a pillar-built woman with a messy bun, brown hair streaked in gray. She stood in front of a building with large windows and a swinging sign, which read ‘Forged Tankard.’ “Ain’t no food he stole.”
“Brana,” the broken-nosed man growled.
The woman rolled her eyes and pushed past him, holding up a small ring with two finger-length keys. “Missing these?”
The larger of the two red-cloaked men reached under his cloak patted his side, and his face turned red. “It’s the stocks for ye, boy.”
The boy dropped to the cobblestones and the shorter, red-cloaked man yanked him back one-handed. Held his other hand high to strike.
“Stop it,” Aunia yelled.
The larger of the red-cloaked men turned in her direction.
“Not the stocks.” A bearded man in a long-sleeved patchwork tunic, white powder streaks along his sleeves, stepped forward. “You’ve the boy’s mother in custody already. She was an unbraceleted faeblood. He’d be the same. You know it. It’s prison he should go.”
Faces pressed against the glass windows of the Forged Tankard’s tavern. Some folk stepped forward. Others melted back, including the broken-nosed man.
Aunia shook. Taya was indeed right of cities being dangerous. If this was how they treated small children . . . but what could she do? She was only one in a crowd.
“Stop,” she slid back, beseeching the broken-nose man. “You have to help. He’s just a boy.”
But the man slid into a narrow alleyway between the tavern and another building, and past a pig rooting in a pile of broken barrels, jugs, food scraps, and rags.
“She ain’t my mom,” the child screamed. “Not my real one. She picked me out of the garbage. I was just a slave to her.”
The taller, red-cloaked man yanked the child’s sleeve up. “Unbraceleted. You. Run to the Yanna’s forge. Grab a cuff. Now.”
“Don’t be thinking of calling on any magic,” the shorter, red-cloaked man said, bending to sneer those words in the child’s face.
“I’m . . . not a faeblood.” The child stopped his struggling and with his wrist in the guard’s grip, pointed in Aunia’s direction. “That’s the one you want. A real faeblood. Didn’t you see? She just skipped out of nowhere.”
The larger man straightened. “You. Rover.”
Aunia backed away, nearly colliding with a press of people guarding her back. Rover? But of course, she was wearing their garb. And by their expression and harsh tone, they did not like rovers.
“Don’t think you’re going anywhere,” one woman in a dark gray gown said.
Faeblood . . . this is how the people saw Reina. “I’ve . . . I’m looking for flyers,” Aunia said. “I flew with them over the Grashbear. Mathias. Keston. Fallo. You’ve had to have seen them. This is Dalin, isn’t it?”
The scowls of the people deepened. They shuffled closer. People in front of her and behind her, but the alleyway . . . could she flee with that pig in the way? Pig. She blinked. It had a quilted cloth saddle fastened around its girth with knotted cloth straps. And stitched cloth saddlebags hanging along the pig’s side. Who would be riding a pig?
Returning to Nonderu, the underworld court, to rescue her dad should have been simple after the malevolent soul-sucking Boggleman fell to his presumable demise. They just need to find a way in. And get past the Mockmen trolls.
Instead, Aunia is attacked by a fanatical soldier cult that seeks to kill or capture her. Plus, her unmanageable magic notifies deadly wererats of her location. It also hurls her into an evil sorceress’ study. If all this wasn’t enough, she’s fighting a different battle with Mathias, her pegasus-riding love. His insistence to keep her hidden is more infuriating than any of their enemies. It leaves her determined to kick anyone who says first love is easy.
Worst of all are the truths she’s uncovering. Truths that can’t be forgotten. Or forgiven.
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Author bio:
TF Burke currently works with NYT David Farland’s Apex-Writers as an admin and marketing specialist, where she schedules industry leaders for weekly multi-Zoom calls, provides content for social posts, and hosts several writer-focused Zooms.
Her published works includes hundreds of newspaper articles, blog posts across various platforms, anthologies, including MURDERBUGS, the second volume of the Unhelpful Encyclopediam a collection of short stories in WHIRL OF THE FAE, and the first book of the Heart of the Worlds Series, FAERIES DON’T LIE.
When not writing or wearing other hats, she can be found with a sword and a dagger in her hands for medieval-style fencing tournaments and melees, something she’s been doing since 2010.
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