Writing Sample For Book Two
Inside Book Two
Dive into the exciting sequel to The Messenger From Myris Dar…
The adventure continues, as does the page-turning action in this second installment of the Stone Guardians four book series.
Canadian artist and author Kindrie Grove, brings you back into the a high-fantasy story that holds enjoyment for teens and adults alike.
Scroll down to read a writing sample....
Writing Sample for Book Two
Excerpt From Chapter: Night Terrors
Moonlight shone through the filigreed window; she stood and padded silently to look out. The dark bulk of Myris Dar and the glints sparkling on the ocean below were reassuring.
Something told her she was going to have to leave her home again.
A gentle scuff sounded behind her. She turned to greet Torrin, wanting to fold herself into his arms.
The figure behind her was not tall enough to be her husband. She froze in confusion, saw the glint of moonlight on a dagger blade. It gave her the warning she needed.
Ducking low, she lunged toward her bed. “Torrin!”
Her hand found the baldric of her sword. Before she could get to her feet, she was kicked hard. She gasped, sudden pain lancing through her side. Rolling, she came to her knees at the foot of the bed, sweeping her sword from its sheath. She pivoted, her blade up to parry the blow that was descending.
Torrin stood behind the man, in possession of the dagger, holding it to the throat of her attacker, his other arm wrapped across the shorter man’s torso. “Who are you?” He spoke in a hoarse, rage-filled whisper.
Rowan un-shuttered the lantern, bathing the little room in light, and moved to study the man’s face. She had never seen him before, but he wore the robes of an attendant to the Seers.
He looked back at her with an impassive expression, offering nothing.
“What am I to you?” she asked. “Why attack me?”
A look came into his eyes then – an expression she had seen before in the eyes of the Priests of Erys in Pellar – hatred, fanatical and without reason. It made her skin crawl.
She swallowed and looked at Torrin. His fury had subsided to a deadly simmer. “Bring him,” she said. “Let us wake the Seers. They will help us get to the bottom of this.”
The man spat on the floor at her feet. He lunged at her, oblivious of the knife at his throat, which drew blood as Torrin wrested him back under control.
“You cannot hide, Stone Guardian,” the man hissed through clenched teeth. “We have waited in the shadows for you to reveal yourself to us, and from the shadows we will come for you. You are a dead woman.”
The man suddenly bucked against Torrin’s restraining grip, throwing them both against the wall with force. Torrin lost his grip and the man won free of him, diving at the room’s window. The woodwork shattered with a loud cracking and the assassin was gone into the blackness of the night.
Torrin ran to the window, leaning out through the debris to scan the sheer cliff below. He cursed and turned back to her. “There is no sign of him. He is either dead or he can fly. It is too dark to see more than a few paces.”
We will come for you…
Rowan closed her eyes. “Sweet Erys, Torrin.” She dropped onto the edge of the bed, suddenly very tired. A stab of pain through her side elicited a groan and she touched her ribs gingerly.
Torrin knelt in front of her, alarm on his face. “Did he cut you?”
Rowan shook her head, wincing. “No, just a well-placed kick.”
“Let me see.” He pulled her hands out of the way and lifted her shirt to reveal a red mark on her left side. Gently he prodded the area with his fingertips, then sighed. “It looks fine, nothing broken, but it will hurt for a few days.”
A knock sounded. “Is all well in there? We heard a loud crash.”
Torrin stood and opened the door to find Tomason and two other attendants.
“There was an intruder in our room,” said Torrin grimly. “He tried to kill Rowan.” He stooped to pick up the dagger from the floor where it had been dropped during the struggle and held it out. “Do you know who this belongs to?”
Tomason looked from Torrin to Rowan, his eyes wide. “Have either of you been harmed?”
“Just bumps and bruises,” said Rowan.
“Do you recognize this dagger?” Torrin’s voice took on a note of urgency.
Tomason looked up at him, then stepped close to examine the weapon. He took it from Torrin and turned it over in the lantern light. It was non-descript, made from bronze and iron. “I have not seen it before.” He sighed. “I am sorry. I will show it to the others to see if someone knows about it.” He peered around the room. “This man who attacked you, what did he look like, and where did he go?”
Torrin silently pointed to the broken window.
Tomason gasped and stepped back from Torrin in horror. “You cast him from the fortress?”
Rowan frowned. “No Tomason, he did no such thing. The man who attacked me dove out himself when I threatened to take him to the Seers to make him answer our questions. He wore the robes of an attendant.”
Torrin folded his arms across his chest. “He went wild. Apparently taking his own life was better than being exposed.” He gestured to the window. “Perhaps he used ropes or handholds, but if so he removed them with impressive speed. Is there water below or would he have landed on rocks?”
“Both. If by some miracle of Erys he missed the rocks, there is a slim chance he might have survived the fall.”
Rowan shuddered. “What would make a man jump to his death?”
Torrin looked at her intensely. “A secret he was sworn to protect.”