COMING IN NOVEMBER 2015
Soldier... Sorcerer... Savior... Who is Vhalla Yarl?
Vhalla Yarl marches to war as property of the Solaris Empire. The Emperor counts on her to bring victory, the Senate counts on her death, and the only thing Vhalla can count on is the fight of her life. As she grapples with the ghosts of her past, new challenges in the present threaten to shatter the remnants of her fragile sanity. Will she maintain her humanity? Or will she truly become the Empire’s monster?
“I WANT TO PRACTICE against a sorcerer,” Grun said before Vhalla could walk away from the makeshift ring. “Spar with me.”
Vhalla looked at him cautiously. She didn’t think for a minute he’d suddenly accepted her. But maybe she could show him she wasn’t dangerous, that she meant him no harm. “Very well,” she said before Daniel could object.
“Vhalla, you don’t have to.” The Eastern man took a step closer to her, dropping his voice. “Don’t feel pressured into this.”
“I don’t.” She shook her head, whispering, “Maybe it’ll be good to show him.”
“Well...”
“Are you two done whispering your sweet nothings?” Grun asked dryly, drawing his sword opposite Vhalla.
Daniel stepped away quickly, his movements jerky and nervous. Was it the heat of the desert or was there a blush across his cheeks? Daniel lifted his palm; their mark to begin sparring would be when he lowered it.
She noticed how his dark brown hair moved as his hand cut through the air, his hazel eyes darting toward hers.
Distracted, Vhalla didn’t hear Grun move until he was upon her. She turned back at the last second, making a weak attempt to dodge. He smashed the pommel of his blade against her cheek in a back-handed swing, sending Vhalla flying into the sand.
“Grun!” Daniel and Craig both called.
“Just a spar.” The mountain of a man laughed. “If she wants to forfeit, she can.”
Vhalla coughed blood onto the sand. Her lip was split, and her face already felt swollen. She blinked away stars, trying to get her feet back under her.
Grun’s boot connected with her side, echoing against her plate as he kicked her. Vhalla rolled across the sand, the wind knocked from her. She curled in on herself, phantom blows attacking her body. Gasping, she tried to push the memories of Rat and Mole’s assault out of her mind.
“Really, this is it?” Grun laughed, goading some of the onlookers into cheers. “This is the fearsome Windwalker?”
“Vhalla, forfeit.” Daniel ran over to her side.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, holding out a palm. Something in her eyes froze Daniel in place. Vhalla turned to Grun, feeling the wind at her back. Her heart began to race just by looking at him.
“Oh, still have some fight in you?” Grun chuckled as Vhalla stood. “Well, at least our Black Legion makes good punching bags. We should thank the Fire Lord for the only thing he’s ever given us.”
“Take it back.” Vhalla could barely hear herself over the racing heartbeat in her ears.
“Or wha—” Grun didn’t finish his sentence as Vhalla’s fist met the side of his face.
The man was built like a rock, and Vhalla could feel the bones in her arm compress through her shoulder as she punched his cheek. Her hand stung but she ignored it, quickly landing from her leaping punch and darting back.
Grun let out a cry of rage and swung his sword at her.
“Why do you hate me? Why do you hate us?” she cried, her body dodging the swings of his blade deftly.
“Because you’re abominations!” Grun shouted, attempting to grab her plate.
Vhalla was too fast and batted his hand out of the way, spinning around his side. “We are your comrades! We don’t want to fight you!”
“Says the woman who killed countless people on the Night of Fire and Wind!” Grun raised his blade over her head and brought it down on Vhalla’s shoulder. The clang of metal on metal was sharp and set her ear to ringing as she crumpled.
They thought she was a murderer.
“I didn’t kill them,” Vhalla whispered.
“Liar!” Grun raised his blade again. “They should’ve killed you that night!”
The goliath swung straight for her head. Vhalla stared at the blade as the world devolved into chaos at Grun’s clearly murderous intentions. This was not a spar; the man intended it to be an execution.
Vhalla raised her hand and the wind ripped Grun’s blade from his fingers, sending it far off into the sand in the distance. She swept her palm in front of her body and a secondary gust knocked Grun on his side. As Vhalla stood, she pressed her hand downward, holding the man to the ground despite his struggles.
“I am not your enemy,” she whispered in a disturbingly calm voice. “So I cannot die this day. I will not die until you see the truth.”
“What’s going on here?” a voice bellowed. Prince Baldair stomped through the crowd that had gathered, Raylynn at his side.
Vhalla relaxed her hand, allowing Grun to spring to his feet.
“She attacked me!” The man made his accusation toward the prince.
“Liar!” Daniel shouted. Grun shot the Eastern Lord daggers with his eyes. “My prince, Vhalla was gracious enough to spar, and Grun took advantage of the situation. He made an attempt on her life.”
“It was just a spar,” Grun countered. “She was the one who threw the first punch; look at my face.”
Grun indeed had a bruise forming where Vhalla had hit him, but she could lick her lips and taste blood.
“She’s a monster, and if she could’ve she would’ve killed me—it was self-defense,” Grun continued.
Vhalla saw shades of the senate as a few soldiers began to nod.
“That’s not true!” Daniel drew his blade, his voice coarse. “Continue to lie and I will cut out your tongue.”
“Defend your freak.” Grun reached for his own sword, forgetting Vhalla had disarmed him completely.
“Enough!” Prince Baldair yelled. The men fumed but were silenced. The prince turned to Vhalla. “Do you have anything to say on your behalf ?”
Vhalla met the prince’s endless blue eyes, considering his question. Her side throbbed where Grun had kicked it, where Rat and Mole had kicked it. She clenched her fists, letting go of her magical Channel—and with it her fight. “No.”
“No?” The prince was startled.
“I’ve learned the Empire...” Vhalla turned, staring down the soldiers. “The people, have no interest in the truth.” Vhalla met Prince Baldair’s eyes coldly. “I am property of the crown, and property doesn’t talk back.”
The spite surprised even her, and everyone stood in a stunned silence. It was the first time she’d said it in a public place, the first time she’d assumed her new identity. They would think what they would about her— words would not change her reality. So, why fight that battle? She had enough to worry about just surviving.
“Come with me, sorcerer.” The prince had clearly taken offense with her directness. “Grun, Daniel, I’ll deal with you later.”
“Baldair—” Daniel took a half step between Vhalla and the prince.
“Silence, soldier!”
Vhalla had never seen Prince Baldair so harsh. Daniel looked at her hopelessly as she followed the prince away and into camp. She knew she should feel guilty, but she didn’t. And her mood soured up until the point that Prince Baldair ushered her into his tent.
His tent was completely unlike Aldrik’s on the inside. He had an actual table and three chairs positioned around it. A single brazier made of bronze hung from the center of the tent and lit the room. Prince Baldair’s bed was larger—for reasons Vhalla could guess, given his reputation with women—and it appeared to be an actual mattress. She wondered how difficult it was for the horses to carry it all.
The prince closed the tent flap behind him and did a short circle around her, assessing Vhalla from head to toe. “Sit.” He motioned to a chair. “Or, perhaps you’d rather I threw some pillows on the floor?”
Vhalla’s eyes widened, hearing the meaning between his words.
“You look uncomfortable.” The prince paused, his eyes reading hers. “I would think you’d be more at ease in a prince’s tent. Or is it just my brother’s?”
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Today, I saw him in you.” Baldair squinted his eyes, as if he was trying to imagine Aldrik imposed atop her. “The way you moved, the way you were rushed by the fight. Tell me, is that the only way he’s been in you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vhalla hissed.
“I can’t recall the last time I saw Aldrik with a woman, at least one who wasn’t bought or given to him as an attempt at finding a future Empress by our father.” Baldair took a step closer to her. She didn’t know this prince. There was a competitive and ugly nature about him that was made only worse when it clashed with his handsome exterior.
“Not another word,” Vhalla cautioned.
“Oh? Jealous of the other women? Did you think he was some paragon of purity? I’ve seen him kill girls younger than you. I’ve seen him wind women up to crawl to his bed.” Prince Baldair laughed.
The tension in her muscles became so great that Vhalla feared it would snap her bones. “Speak about him again and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Prince Baldair called her bluff. “Don’t threaten me, Vhalla. We both know the terms the Senate gave you. You wouldn’t want to force Aldrik’s hand, would you?”
Horror stilled her, and her hands relaxed. He wouldn’t. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.
The prince leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “Whatever you have with him, end it now.” His voice was quiet and it sounded sincere and pained. “If not for your sake, then for his.”
Vhalla’s chest tightened, but she didn’t have an opportunity to ask him what he meant. The rumble of a single horse and the whinny of an abrupt halt could be heard from outside the tent.
Prince Baldair looked up as the tent flap was thrown open. Vhalla turned and a wave of relief crashed over her as she saw the dark figure step inside.
“Ah, brother,” Prince Baldair said sweetly, straightening away from her face. “We were just talking about you.”