Authors: Kristal Shaff
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Preview of:
Blood
of the
GUARDIAN
Book 2 in EMISSARY of LIGHT
Chapter One
A MULTITUDE OF BLANK stares surrounded Nolan Trividar, as though he’d spent the last ten minutes speaking in a foreign language. A man scratched his chin. Another picked his teeth. And a few whispered to each other, staring at Nolan as if he were insane.
Nolan sighed. Sometimes people were just plain dumb.
Pressing his thumbs to his temples, he looked at the lights of Brim illuminating the ground of the emptied storage building. Piles of fishing nets and rusted spears leaned against the wall. Earlier that morning, Nolan had climbed this rickety building and secured the six stones into holes cut into the ceiling. Now, with the sun at its peak, beams of light shone through the stones, brilliantly refracting the six symbols of Brim in spectrum hues on the dirt-caked floor.
“Perhaps if you told them again, Master Nolan,” Greer suggested. The Guardian, who had taken the form of an old man, smiled at him encouragingly. His eyes flicked to the ceiling, and Nolan followed his gaze. A dark, cloud-like mist darted back and forth. It dove into the crowd and circled around a man’s unknowing head. Nolan could feel the result of the Nass’s taunt; the man’s apprehension and fear increased, causing a similar mist to slither out of the man and join the other Nass drifting about the ceiling.
Nolan frowned. This wasn’t going so well.
“I know you can all feel it,” Nolan continued. “Surely the stones call. Step into the light and bring forth your Shay power. It’s hiding inside you. Just step into the light and let it come free!”
More blank stares followed. Nolan surged his Empathy Shay and didn’t feel indifference, like he had thought; fear mounted from them in a swelling wave. Why were they afraid? Was it him? He was … different, of course. After becoming a half Guardian, he was taller and broader than any normal man. And he wielded all six powers, which, he supposed, might intimidate them a bit. Or maybe change scared them. The people of Adamah didn’t like to stray from their monotony, even if for the better. The stubborn townspeople didn’t know what was best for them, even when Nolan stuck it in front of their ignorant faces.
A dark mist darted by Nolan and zipped off again, as if teasing him. Nolan ground his teeth. The Nass weren’t helping much either.
“Who sent you?” a voice called from the crowd.
A woman stepped forward, her hair braided in numerous locks. Huge, circular earrings hung from her lobes, and bangles covering her wrists chimed softly with each swing of her slender arms. Her tight-fitting shirt dipped low, displaying far too much to leave anything to the imagination. And her skirt consisted of strips of cloth, revealing olive-toned legs with every step. She was a gypsy—a Talasian outcast. But her complexion seemed fairer than the typical gypsy. Her black hair and dark eyes complemented her skin and instantly drew every man’s eyes.
It took Nolan a moment to realize he’d been gawking as well.
He cleared his throat. “King Emery Cadogan sent me.”
The woman threw her head back, laughed, and tossed one of her long braids over her shoulder. “Ah! So the new king sent you? Why should we trust a man who took the crown by force? Why should we follow such a king, a traitor before he took the throne? And why should we trust you?” Her eyes searched him, starting at his face and traveling down the length of him. A smirk formed on her lips. “We don’t even know
what
you are.”
Nolan’s face warmed, but he shoved the emotions away.
Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the crowd. Several more Nass joined the mass of hovering and twisting mists. Though these people could not see the Nass, Nolan could.
“And we know nothing of this magic.” She motioned toward the colored symbols as their light flickered with a passing cloud. “If we step into this light, like you say, it might strike us all dead!”
The complaining of the crowd increased at her words, and a new supply of Nass filled the room.
“I can take her down,” a voice whispered in Nolan’s ear. “No one would even see me drag her gypsy arse outta here.”
Nolan turned to the hazel eyes of Lieutenant Kat Connelly, one of the Speed Rol’dan who had come with Nolan to spread the light of Brim.
Kat winked and grinned. “Believe me. It’d be my pleasure.”
Nolan considered her offer; however, the gypsy seeming to magically disappear would reinforce their ridiculous fears. “No,” he replied. “There has to be another way.”
I need to convince them … somehow.
“Just listen!” Nolan pleaded. “There is no magic! If one of you would step into the light, you’d all see the truth.”
However, instead of listening, the crowd’s complaints only increased. They had grown so loud they couldn’t hear him at all. He scowled. The people of this town weren’t the smartest. But even so, how could they listen to that wench? The gypsy’s smug grin made his fists clench. His blood boiled in his veins.
“Master Nolan,” Greer said, “please calm yourself before you do something rash.”
Nolan didn’t care anymore. The light of Brim began to build inside of him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the specific Shay power he would need. He had done it to Alec once, had frozen him in the throne room back in Faylinn. Surely a handful of simple townsfolk would be easy compared to Alec’s hard head.
“Master Nolan, please,” Greer said.
Nolan ignored him. These people would listen to him, whether they liked it or not. He surged his Shay of Empathy, held his palms toward the crowd, and let the power burst forth.
Instantly, the room went mute. Every man, woman, and child—including his friends—froze like statutes.
Nolan walked through the crowd, watching their motionless faces: some scowled with anger; others’ eyes were wide with fear. Even though they couldn’t move, they were aware of him.
“I’m sorry,” Nolan spoke, his arms shaking slightly at his exertion of power. “I’ll let you all go once I’ve had my say. It’s important you listen.” He pointed at the frozen gypsy, the sneer still embedded on her face. “She’s wrong. What you see here is no magic; it’s a gift. A gift given to us by Brim, the god of light, the creator of the powers we hold.
“After Alcandor became king, the stones were lost, and only those with the strongest abilities were able to come into their Shay powers. That is why King Alcandor formed his army, so he could manipulate those with power and keep them under his control. And he also concealed a very important truth: Everyone in the land, not just his soldiers, are gifted with Shay powers.”
Their frozen silence followed. Nolan surged his Empathy and searched them, hoping they understood. He sighed, shoulders sagging, when he only felt fear and confusion.
Of course they were afraid.
I suppose if someone petrified me, I might be a little scared too.
Once they were calm, they’d be more ready to listen.
Several more Nass tore out of the frozen bodies.
Nolan glared at the mists. The Nass only heightened their fears. Even if he soothed them with his Empathy, the Nass would drag them down again. He needed to get rid of these nightforsaken things. Nass first. Soothing after.
He had done it before.
He could do it again.
Nolan summoned the light of Brim, letting it build and gain strength. Last time, the act of cleansing the Nass had almost killed him. But this was nothing like before; it was only a small room, not a battlefield. With a small burst of Brim’s light, he could get rid of them and break through their thick heads with the truth.
He closed his eyes, feeling the light build. He let his focus slip and could hear commotion as people were released from his hold.
Someone grabbed his arm. “Nolan! What are you doing?”
Nolan shrugged off the hand and focused on his inner light. It was almost ready.
A woman screamed as the light spilled from Nolan, illuminating the space around him. In successive, gushing waves, the power of Brim exploded.
Acknowledgments:
If you have reached the end of this book, thank you. It makes it all worthwhile when someone joins you in your world and hangs out with you and your characters. Thank you for joining me in mine.
This book has been a long ways in coming, years and years of “almosts” before finally coming to fruition.
Firstly, I want to thank Courtney Koschel, my editor. Without her I would have ended this book’s journey with a far different product. Thanks for discovering me when I needed it, and for giving me your expert advice. My book is far better with your involvement.
Thanks for Anne Drury who illustrated such an awesome cover and humored me with all of my requests. You are truly a wonderful artist and a joy to do business with. Thanks to Liesl Mensinger, who created such a fabulous title typography. You gave my cover the finishing touch it so needed.
To all of my writing friends: Michelle Gregory, who has read this story almost as much as I have. Without her, I would’ve struggled even getting past the first draft. Michelle McLean, who has been a great partner in publishing crime for so many years. Thanks for letting me whine to you for so long. Thanks to my other writing friends from Operation Awesome Blog and Query Tracker forum. I appreciate your support, especially early on. And to my writing friends, Wayne Sapp and Joan Mauch, who’ve been great friends and emotional support over the years.
To the folks and beta readers of Slinging.org forum: Thank you so much for your expert advice about slings. Also, thank you for becoming my mini fan club in a time where I needed it the most. You have no idea how much that meant to me, and how it helped me to go forward when the path to publication was the darkest.
To my best friend, Barb Pope. Thanks for being a cheerleader and support system for so many years.
To my family: My mom, who has been a great reader and supporter. And my kids who’ve had to put up with me and leave me alone while I worked. And to my husband, who helped me not to look as stupid, by giving me great advice on blacksmithing and other skills, and generally having to put up with me though the emotional roller coaster of publishing. I love you. Thank you for supporting and encouraging me for so long.
To everyone else who has read my book and given me advice, suggestions, or just kudos, thank you.
And lastly, thanks to God, who forced me to have patience. Though I might have not liked the long road, it has taught me much. Thank you for being my rock, and for giving me stubbornness, so I would keep going, and the creative gifts that allowed me to write this book in the first place.
Kristal Shaff grew up with books (and drove her mom crazy when she wouldn't leave the library); her first job was even shelving books at the library. She loves anything creative, and you can often find her exploring strange and fantastical worlds in her choices of movies and fantasy fiction. Kristal resides in Iowa with her farmer husband, numerous pets, and 4 awesome kids. When she isn't writing, she is a professional face painter who enjoys making children smile.
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