Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1) (30 page)

“Where to?” he asked after taking his seat on Wallah.

“Justina made me an offer,” I said. “I think it’s time I
took her up on it.”

“Justina?” Marlis asked. “Who is she?”

“The matriarch of the Fantazikes.”

Gideon nodded. “Where do you suppose they’ve gone?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “But I have nowhere else to go and
all the time in the world to get there.”

Gideon urged his horse beside mine and reached for my hand.
He brought my knuckles to his chest, over his heart, and gazed at me through dark,
thick lashes. The look he gave me set a warm spot alight inside me, and it felt
a little like hope.

“You set the pace, Lady Thunder,” he said. “I’ll keep up.”

---THE END---

(Be sure to continue down to the Special Sneak
Preview of
Quest of Thunder
, the second book in this series.)

First thanks are always reserved for God and family. I thank
God for my many blessings, and I thank my family for love, support, and
patience.

Building a somewhat-new-world required the assistance of a
few experts. When it came to languages, especially “Dreutchish,” I had to rely
on the help of others, much like Evie did. So, many thanks go to Stephen
Kozeniewski (a terrific horror author, by the way) and Loren Holder for their
expertise. Thanks to Rachael K. Jones for her input on several world-building
questions that made a big impact on the construction of Evie’s realm. And huge,
huge appreciation goes to Khaalidah Muhammed Ali for helping me with writing
the “other,” and making sure I got Malita right.

To April L. Wood, a terrific new fantasy author, by the way,
thank you for being an early reader and giving me the notes to make this a
stronger manuscript. Best wishes for much success in your own career.

Thanks to Dave Lane (aka Lane Diamond) and Evolved
Publishing for giving Evie and her friends a chance to see the light of day.

Like most authors, I thought this book was fabulous from the
start. Then Sue Fairchild got a hold of it and showed me that it was actually
just an unpolished rock. But she got out her grinder and polishing cloth and
turned this lump of words into a sparkly gem. Thank you, Sue.

And thanks to Richard Tran for putting the final touch on
this book with his amazing, original artwork.

Some of Karissa’s favorite things are coffee, chocolate, and
superheroes, and she can quote “Princess Bride” verbatim. She loves to read and
has a sweet tooth for speculative fiction. Sometimes her family convinces her
to put down the books and take the motorcycles out for a spin, or they’ll haunt
flea markets, searching for rusty scraps to reuse and re-purpose. Karissa lives
in North Carolina with her kid, her husband, the occasional in-law, and a very
hairy husky named Bonnie.

Karissa is also the author of the adult Urban Fantasy
series,
The Norse Chronicles
, where she puts a modern twist on ancient
myths. The first book,
Midnight Burning
, is available now.

Please connect with Karissa online at
www.KarissaLaurel.com
, and be sure to
follow her on
Goodreads
.
You can also follow her at
Facebook
,
Twitter
,
Instagram
, and
Pinterest
.

QUEST OF THUNDER

The Stormbourne Chronicles – Book Two

Escape once more to the epic world of the Stormbourne
Chronicles with the second book in this young adult fantasy series. For more
information on this series, please visit the
Evolved
Publishing
website.

~~~

And now, please scroll down for a

Special Sneak Preview

of

QUEST OF THUNDER

QUEST OF THUNDER

Chapter 1

A vivid blush stained the evening sky, daubing horse-tail
clouds in rosy hues. Diffuse lightning, the kind most often appearing over the
ocean in summer, pulsed behind those wispy clouds like a dying heartbeat. I
wasn’t attempting to achieve artistry, though. No, I was aiming for lethality,
brutality, and raw power, but all I had managed was this idyllic scene that
might have inspired an artist’s creative urges, but not my enemies’ respect or
fear.

Static crackled over my skin, raising fine hairs along my
arms and neck. Despite my best efforts, I had managed only that much: a weak
release of negative ions in the heavens and a tingling electrical charge
dancing over my skin. “Come on, Evie,” I said to myself. “Get your head on
straight.”

After inhaling a deep breath, I rolled my shoulders, flexed
my fingers, and imagined a sharp lightning bolt slicing a jagged wound across
the atmosphere. Thunder, glorious and deep like a growling beast, rumbled in my
memory. And there it remained, locked in my dreams and recollections, never
finding release in the real world. Not through me, anyway. The last time the
storms had responded to my commands, I had been standing in a forest on the
border of Aeolus Daeg’s estate in the country of Dreutch. Gideon Faust, my
betrayer and savior, had pursued me into those dark woods, and I held the
storms over him as threat and warning.

But in this field on the outskirts of Prigha, capital of
Bonhemm, the thunder ignored me. Perhaps I had strayed too far from my home in
Inselgrau. Was I too withdrawn from the Stormbourne legacy, or had my own
self-doubts defeated me? Most likely, my failures resulted from some of all
those things combined.

As I stood in there, locked in a cycle of useless,
self-defeating thoughts, the rosy horizon deepened to violet, and a few
audacious stars pricked through the darkness overhead. The swishing of tall
grasses announced an approaching visitor. Gideon.

“Is it time to come in already?” I asked, keeping my back to
him.

He stopped close behind me, and his familiar scent carried
on the breeze—sweat, leather, horses, and hay. Despite all that had happened
between us, his nearness still unsettled me. My heart juddered, a momentary
syncopation in its regular rhythm.

“It’s nearly dark,” he said. “You’ve been out here for
hours.”

My shoulders slumped. “I’m well aware.”

He squeezed my arm and let go. His warmth, although
fleeting, bled through my blouse’s thin fabric and seeped into my skin. “Marlis
is hungry. It’s your turn to cook.”

I turned and faced him, frowning. “Is it? Already?”

His nose wrinkled. “Unfortunately so.”

“My cooking’s not all bad.”

He chuckled while the breeze stirred loose strands of honey
colored hair around his face. He looked like an imp, if imps could also be
large and imposing. “Not if you’re starving. Which I am.”

“Come on then.” I led the way out of the field. “There’s
bread and cheese at least. I don’t think even I could mess that up.”

“Never say never, Evie.”

We turned onto a dirt path trailing away from the farmland
bordering the old city of Prigha. I had practiced storm gathering in that field
nearly every evening we arrived in Bonhemm a month ago. My greatest success had
come on a night when the skies were already filled with clouds, wind, and rain.
With my mind I reached toward the lightning and stroked it with my will. Like a
contented cat, the lightning purred beneath my touch, but the moment I nudged
it with a gentle command it turned and hissed at me, bearing claws and teeth
before darting away.

We reached the city’s outskirts and crossed the ancient
stone bridge spanning the Vivan River. Lamplighters were working their way
through the streets, and a dim glow illuminated Prigha Castle resting atop a
hillock at the city’s center like a giant slumbering dragon with jutting scales
and a long winding tail wrapped round itself. In reality, those jutting scales
were merely the castle’s multi-spired roofline, and the winding tail was a long
brick wall encircling the courtyard.

In another time, in another world, I might have ventured to
Prigha Castle and visited the newly instated empress as a peer. But now....
Gideon and I turned down a side street the lamplighters had ignored, and we
tried our best to sidestep puddles. Sometimes the street collected pools of
harmless rain. More often than not, those puddles harbored a noxious concoction
of human, animal, and industrial waste. An unfamiliar man slumped in a dark
doorway, and as we hurried by, he coughed, wretched, and spat, adding another
bit of foulness to the street.

Once upon a time I had lived in the home of an elemental
god. Compared to the legends of our ancestors, my father was diminished—more
mortal than deity—but he had commanded thunder and lightning as well as any
general commands an army.

Look at me now.... How far the mighty have fallen.

Although, I would have argued that I had never been very
mighty.

Except for a few displays of cunning and uncanny power I
could not seem to repeat, I had been, and still remained, a rather unremarkable
young woman. Presently, I lived in a tatty apartment at the top of a flight of
rickety stairs in the slums. The last battle I had fought, and nearly lost, was
waged against a family of hostile rats plotting to overtake our meager pantry.

“I don’t mind the dark and the dirt so much,” Gideon
muttered as I turned the lock at our apartment door. The door swung open on
rusty hinges that squealed, broadcasting our entrance. “But why must everything
smell of piss?”

Marlis looked up from her seat beside an oil lamp in our
sitting room. A bundle of fabric filled her lap, and she pinched a slim sewing
needle between forefinger and thumb. She smiled, and my earlier angst and
irritation bled away. Gideon’s sister radiated peace. An innate healer, she
brought comfort with her mere presence. “Gideon,” she chided. “Language.”

He harrumphed and stepped into the area set aside for the
kitchen, his big frame filling most of the small space. A pot of water warmed
on the stove, and he ladled it over his hands in the dish pan. I squeezed in
beside him and mirrored his actions. We shared a bar of stiff lye soap that
stung the cracks in my knuckles and cuticles. Washing laundry and darning socks
chapped my skin, but the chores also paid my share of the rent. Gideon worked
in the empress’s stables, but mostly as a laborer: cleaning stalls, grooming
the horses, and such.

However, the stable master must have noticed Gideon’s
considerable talents with the livestock because, lately, Gideon had been
spending more time in the training paddocks. Or so he had told me—I hadn’t
visited the stables, yet. Work and practice left me little time for idle social
calls.

Despite what I had told Gideon earlier, I hadn’t forgotten it
was my turn to make dinner. Earlier, on my way out to the field, I had stopped
and bought a few short, dried sausages from a street vendor. I removed them
from my skirt pockets and set them on the counter while Gideon unwrapped the
bread and brought out what was left of our cheese. We kept both the bread and
cheese hidden beneath a sturdy wooden crate weighed down with a few old horse
shoes. The rats hadn’t managed to gnaw through our homemade bread safe, although
I had caught one trying to push it off the counter several nights ago.

I had bought something else, too, and my pockets were deeper
than Gideon probably suspected. To our meager supper, I added a skimpy square
of chocolate. He paused, knife poised over the cheese. “Is that what I think it
is?”

I nodded. “It’s been a while since we’ve indulged.”

Floorboards squeaked as Marlis stood and crossed the room.
She peered over my shoulder and gasped. “Evie, you shouldn’t have. You should
be saving your money.”

“For what?” I asked bitterly. “To fund a revolution?”

Gideon snorted and resumed his slicing.

“For whatever it might cost you to find the Fantazikes
again,” she said. “You never know when you’ll need to buy a train ticket or pay
a ship’s fare. You have to be prepared for any eventuality.”

I huffed and my breath stirred the dark hairs that had
escaped my braid. “It’s been a month and we haven’t been able to find a trace
of the Fantazikes. It’s as if they launched their airships and flew to the
moon.”

“Are you saying you’ve given up?” she asked.

I eased Gideon’s knife from his hand and sliced the
chocolate into three pieces. “I’m saying that I love chocolate, and I could
really use a little sweetness in my life today.” Her brother’s hazel stare met
mine as I plopped a chocolate morsel on my tongue and sighed. “Tell me there
will be unlimited chocolate in the afterlife. If so, I could die today and be
happy.”

His gaze narrowed. “Don’t say that, Evie.”

“I’m only joking.”

“I’ve seen you too close to death too many times. It’s not
funny to me.”

I pressed a fingertip against his piece of chocolate and
pushed it across the counter toward him. “Then you need this at least as much
as I do.”

He arched an eyebrow but swallowed his retort. He pinched
his chocolate slice and popped it in his mouth. He might have been stiff and
stern and one of the most obstinate people I’d ever known, but even he couldn’t
resist the seductive powers of a little warm cocoa melting on his tongue. The
stiffness in his broad shoulders eased. He exhaled, and the shadow of a smile
played on his lips. “That was just enough to make me wish for more.”

“One day I’ll buy you bricks of it.” I turned to Marlis.
“But for now, you’ll have to eat your crumbs and pretend we’re kings and
queens.”

She smiled and accepted her piece from Gideon. She closed
her eyes and exhaled as she savored the meager treat.

“Now,” I said. “Everyone take a plate and sit. I’ll make
tea.”

***

I woke up startled, possibly as the result of a bad dream,
but if so, the memory of it faded the moment I opened my eyes. Still, my heart
hammered and my breath came fast and rushed. Someone in a neighboring apartment
coughed—our walls were as thin as paper. Gideon’s heavy breathing carried from
his sleeping pallet in the sitting room and filled the late night silence.

I stood and eased around the edge of Marlis’s cot, careful
not to wake her. On tiptoes, I left our bedroom, heading for our kitchen nook
and the water pitcher on the counter beside the bread safe. “If there are any
rats about,” I whispered, “you’d best be ready to fight.”

The rats remained silent, and no telltale skittering of tiny
claws gave away their presence, so I crept to the counter, found a cup, and
poured water from the cool, earthenware jug. In the sitting room Gideon shifted
and grunted. His dark shadow moved as he sat up, the moonlight filtering
through the sitting room window limned his silhouette. “Evie?” he whispered.
“What are you doing up?”

Sneaking was a pointless endeavor whenever he was around.
Even in sleep, his senses remained alert. Aeolus Daeg had trained him well,
turned him into a consummate spy. Presently, Gideon claimed loyalty to me and
swore an oath of fealty, yet a niggling voice of doubt whispered in my ear,
questioning, suspicious. I hated that voice, but I had learned the hard way
about the cost of guileless trust.

“Thirsty,” I said.

“Dreaming again?” he asked, heedless of my lame excuse.

“Maybe.”

He rose and moved to our secondhand, or possibly third-hand,
settee, and patted the cushion beside him. “Come sit with me.”

A brief warmth, like a momentary sun ray piercing storm
clouds, stirred in my chest. I drained my cup and set it in the dish pan. “It’s
late. I should go back to bed.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding me, Evie.”

The warm spot clouded over again. I sighed, crossed the
room, and eased onto the settee.

“You still don’t trust me,” he said.

“You once said I should trust no one, not even you, if it
meant staying safe.”

“You’re right.” The settee squeak as he changed
positions—hunching over, forearms braced on his knees. The moonlight turned his
hair into a stream of pale silver, trickling down his back. I had known a young
man with hair that color. In broad sunlight Jonathan Faercourt’s hair had
gleamed like the palest corn silk—but that shiny, bright exterior had
camouflaged a dark and depraved soul. “And I promised to be here for you as
long as it took.”

“I don’t like it either, Gideon—this doubt. It’s not just
you. I doubt myself, too. What’s happened to me? Why does the thunder defy me?
Why can’t I do anything right anymore?”

His arm snaked around my shoulder, and he pulled me close. I
exhaled and slumped against him, soaking up his warmth and strength. “If you
don’t know, then I sure don’t, either,” he said. “I believe in you, though. You
have to know that.”

“I do. I can feel it. But....”

“But it’s not enough, is it?”

A knot rose in my throat. “After a month of failure, how do
I keep up my hopes?”

“Maybe we should go back to Inselgrau. Go back to your
people and their faith.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure that would be enough anymore,
either. Maybe this is the end of the line for me.”

A soft snarl rumbled in his throat. “Don’t say that. The
Evie I know, the Evie I gave up my home and country for, would never say that.”

I huffed, raked my fingers through my hair, and rolled to my
feet. Then I paced the short length of our sitting room. “You’re right. My
strength does rely on faith, and there’s not much of that around anymore.
Maybe... maybe I need to stop hiding. Maybe if people knew who I was...”

He stood and put himself in my path. I stumbled to a halt,
nearly falling against him. “It’s a huge risk.”