CHAPTER 1 – ASSIGNMENT
Lioness-cadet Maud of the M’Brannoe stood by the railing, moving with the motion of the ship. She stared at the approaching town, oblivious to the pigtailed Chorwaynies preparing for harbor around her. The sailors chattered and laughed in a thick accent while they worked without disturbing her privacy.
Spray from the bow wave formed little rivulets in her face, but she didn’t mind. Maud was a warrioress; a Kell of red-bronze complexion, good-looking and strong. With her short, straight hair dyed the scarlet of active service and her muscular body clad in sleeveless leather armor, she looked both tough and capable. But underneath her brawn she was a nineteen-year-old girl, and this first visit outside her country was an adventure.
Winsproke, city of magic! she thought, leaning forward. The Vanhaari town looked very different from old Tar Kell, her cave-built home. Here were no compact communal clan centers, but a jumble of little houses, all painted in the most garish colors. The immense warlock tower in the center was dull gray, casting a shadow over the town.
‘Lioness.’ The rough voice told Maud her superior had come on deck. ‘To me.’
The veteran was a wiry, dark brown woman in a lacquered cuirass, black-‘n-orange tiger striped skirt and boots. Besides her sword, she carried a short spear under her arm.
As Maud turned to join her, sailors took her place at the railing, and she felt a stab of guilt for having hindered them.
She gave a slight bow, acknowledging the older woman’s authority. ‘I was in the way,’ she said, lifting het chin.
‘Yes.’ Veteran Tigress Hala’s lined face was impassive. ‘Such inattention can be dangerous in action. And spare me your huffiness, girl; you’re not a full lioness yet. As long as we’re in the field you’re my responsibility. Behave yourself.’
Maud swallowed at the rebuke. ‘Yes, Veteran.’
As soon as the crew had lowered the gangway, the two warrioresses jumped onto the stone quay. Hala stood for a moment, rubbing her cheeks with her knuckles. Then she growled and strode into the city.
Maud hurried after her, reveling in Winsproke’s sights and smells. The sun’s play on the colorful buildings left her breathless. A cacophony of purples and pinks, of reds, ochre, bright greens and blues, against which the people themselves were gray shadows who went about their business as joyless as professional mourners.
These can’t be warlocks, Maud thought. They must be the common Vanhaari; servants and clerks. Surely the warlocks will be grander than these drudges.
As they approached the main square, hawkers filled the street with their cries and the rattle of their laden pushcarts. The veteran barged through the crowd with little regard for the vendors and their unwieldy transports. Maud squared her shoulders against the angry curses and fists shaken in their wake and followed the older woman to the warlock tower.
Close up, the tower was even more impressive than seen from the sea—five hundred feet of stone blocks, rising up to the sky.
‘So high; it’s humiliating.’ Maud gazed up to the top of the tower, lost in the clouds. ‘I don’t like feeling small.’
The veteran snorted. ‘It’s only a building.’ She studied the walls and then growled. ‘Openings all over it, but no damned front door.’
As they looked, a portion of the wall shimmered, and a handsome woman in a flowing blue dress stepped through the seemingly solid stones. She was alone, but speaking softly, gesturing with a rolled up scroll as if arguing with an invisible companion.
Hala gave an exasperated grunt and hurried to intercept her. The woman, immersed in her one-sided discussion, almost walked into the veteran, but Hala sidestepped swiftly and saluted.
‘Excuse me, ma’am. I saw you coming out of the tower, but how do we get inside?’
The warlock blinked in apparent confusion. ‘Eh? Oh, ask the spellscribe.’
Hala scowled at the vague answer. ‘The spellscribe?’
Flustered, the woman turned, setting the jewelry on her forehead jingling as she waved her scroll at a nearby wooden stall. ‘Him. The fellow sells penny spells to the common folk. Useless, but the people like them. He pays for his doghouse by doubling as the tower’s doorwarden.’ Without another glance, she walked on, waving and mouthing.
Hala lifted her eyes to the sky. ‘I hate dealing with those foggy-minded finger-wrigglers.’ She marched to the booth and leaned forward.
‘Careful!’ A gray face snarled at them as the stacks of little cards on the countertop wobbled. ‘Them spells be the work of days, you ignorant woman! Want to buy one?’
The old warrioress inspected the man. ‘I’m Veteran Tigress Hala of the M’Brannoe, for my appointment with the prince-warlock.’
The spellscribe made a disgusted sound as he adjusted his glasses. Careful not to knock over the stacks of handwritten cards himself, he opened a large book. Page by page, he went through the scribbles, mumbling.
‘There’s no Lala here,’ he said at last, peering up at the big Kell over the rim of his glasses.
The veteran folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the booth. It creaked alarmingly, but nothing disastrous happened.
‘Hala,’ she said. ‘With an H. I’ve got nothing else to do today, so I don’t mind waiting. I wouldn’t know about the prince-warlock, though.’
As if the veteran had summoned it with her words, a pink frog appeared on the booth’s counter. ‘Show them in, you limp-brain,’ the familiar croaked, hopping around the stacked spells in agitation. ‘You’ve been told the Splendor is expecting a Kell.’ At that, it winked away again.
The spellscribe’s face turned splotchy with rage. He waved at the tower, and a massive pair of doors appeared. ‘Go on; get yourselves inside!’ Then he squealed as the warrioress bumped her hip against the booth, scattering the written cards into the square.
Lioness-cadet Maud of the M’Brannoe stood by the railing, moving with the motion of the ship. She stared at the approaching town, oblivious to the pigtailed Chorwaynies preparing for harbor around her. The sailors chattered and laughed in a thick accent while they worked without disturbing her privacy.
Spray from the bow wave formed little rivulets in her face, but she didn’t mind. Maud was a warrioress; a Kell of red-bronze complexion, good-looking and strong. With her short, straight hair dyed the scarlet of active service and her muscular body clad in sleeveless leather armor, she looked both tough and capable. But underneath her brawn she was a nineteen-year-old girl, and this first visit outside her country was an adventure.
Winsproke, city of magic! she thought, leaning forward. The Vanhaari town looked very different from old Tar Kell, her cave-built home. Here were no compact communal clan centers, but a jumble of little houses, all painted in the most garish colors. The immense warlock tower in the center was dull gray, casting a shadow over the town.
‘Lioness.’ The rough voice told Maud her superior had come on deck. ‘To me.’
The veteran was a wiry, dark brown woman in a lacquered cuirass, black-‘n-orange tiger striped skirt and boots. Besides her sword, she carried a short spear under her arm.
As Maud turned to join her, sailors took her place at the railing, and she felt a stab of guilt for having hindered them.
She gave a slight bow, acknowledging the older woman’s authority. ‘I was in the way,’ she said, lifting het chin.
‘Yes.’ Veteran Tigress Hala’s lined face was impassive. ‘Such inattention can be dangerous in action. And spare me your huffiness, girl; you’re not a full lioness yet. As long as we’re in the field you’re my responsibility. Behave yourself.’
Maud swallowed at the rebuke. ‘Yes, Veteran.’
As soon as the crew had lowered the gangway, the two warrioresses jumped onto the stone quay. Hala stood for a moment, rubbing her cheeks with her knuckles. Then she growled and strode into the city.
Maud hurried after her, reveling in Winsproke’s sights and smells. The sun’s play on the colorful buildings left her breathless. A cacophony of purples and pinks, of reds, ochre, bright greens and blues, against which the people themselves were gray shadows who went about their business as joyless as professional mourners.
These can’t be warlocks, Maud thought. They must be the common Vanhaari; servants and clerks. Surely the warlocks will be grander than these drudges.
As they approached the main square, hawkers filled the street with their cries and the rattle of their laden pushcarts. The veteran barged through the crowd with little regard for the vendors and their unwieldy transports. Maud squared her shoulders against the angry curses and fists shaken in their wake and followed the older woman to the warlock tower.
Close up, the tower was even more impressive than seen from the sea—five hundred feet of stone blocks, rising up to the sky.
‘So high; it’s humiliating.’ Maud gazed up to the top of the tower, lost in the clouds. ‘I don’t like feeling small.’
The veteran snorted. ‘It’s only a building.’ She studied the walls and then growled. ‘Openings all over it, but no damned front door.’
As they looked, a portion of the wall shimmered, and a handsome woman in a flowing blue dress stepped through the seemingly solid stones. She was alone, but speaking softly, gesturing with a rolled up scroll as if arguing with an invisible companion.
Hala gave an exasperated grunt and hurried to intercept her. The woman, immersed in her one-sided discussion, almost walked into the veteran, but Hala sidestepped swiftly and saluted.
‘Excuse me, ma’am. I saw you coming out of the tower, but how do we get inside?’
The warlock blinked in apparent confusion. ‘Eh? Oh, ask the spellscribe.’
Hala scowled at the vague answer. ‘The spellscribe?’
Flustered, the woman turned, setting the jewelry on her forehead jingling as she waved her scroll at a nearby wooden stall. ‘Him. The fellow sells penny spells to the common folk. Useless, but the people like them. He pays for his doghouse by doubling as the tower’s doorwarden.’ Without another glance, she walked on, waving and mouthing.
Hala lifted her eyes to the sky. ‘I hate dealing with those foggy-minded finger-wrigglers.’ She marched to the booth and leaned forward.
‘Careful!’ A gray face snarled at them as the stacks of little cards on the countertop wobbled. ‘Them spells be the work of days, you ignorant woman! Want to buy one?’
The old warrioress inspected the man. ‘I’m Veteran Tigress Hala of the M’Brannoe, for my appointment with the prince-warlock.’
The spellscribe made a disgusted sound as he adjusted his glasses. Careful not to knock over the stacks of handwritten cards himself, he opened a large book. Page by page, he went through the scribbles, mumbling.
‘There’s no Lala here,’ he said at last, peering up at the big Kell over the rim of his glasses.
The veteran folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the booth. It creaked alarmingly, but nothing disastrous happened.
‘Hala,’ she said. ‘With an H. I’ve got nothing else to do today, so I don’t mind waiting. I wouldn’t know about the prince-warlock, though.’
As if the veteran had summoned it with her words, a pink frog appeared on the booth’s counter. ‘Show them in, you limp-brain,’ the familiar croaked, hopping around the stacked spells in agitation. ‘You’ve been told the Splendor is expecting a Kell.’ At that, it winked away again.
The spellscribe’s face turned splotchy with rage. He waved at the tower, and a massive pair of doors appeared. ‘Go on; get yourselves inside!’ Then he squealed as the warrioress bumped her hip against the booth, scattering the written cards into the square.
Lioness of Kell
Author: Paul E. Horsman
For Ages 15+
Editor: Emily Nemchick
Cover Design: Ravven
Publisher: Red Rune Books (2015)
Published as: print book, e-book
Pages: ca. 440
Price: $ 16.99 (print), $ 3.99 (e-book)
Author: Paul E. Horsman
For Ages 15+
Editor: Emily Nemchick
Cover Design: Ravven
Publisher: Red Rune Books (2015)
Published as: print book, e-book
Pages: ca. 440
Price: $ 16.99 (print), $ 3.99 (e-book)
REVIEW - Judge, 23rd Annual Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Awards, 2015
Beautiful cover image, very detailed and rich, with the shine on the sword and textures in the fabrics. Well done.
The book opens with a strong sense of setting. Author has put a great deal of effort into painting realistic settings, adding texture, scent and temperature to create a fully realized world so intrinsic to the story. Very well done. Reader finds it easy to get immersed in this world, feeling like an involved observer thanks to the excellent sensory details.
Author does a great job of unspooling the social strata of this world. We get excellent guidance via dialogue in the all-important positioning of each character here.
The formality of the characters’ speech adds a beautiful level of other-era and creates a hierarchy via speech patterns and addressing patterns. Well done. Author has put a lot of work into the dialogue, and it never fails to illuminate the many layers of the story. Excellent.
A bit of drag two-thirds of the way through gets saved by the danger and action of the troll battle, which is perfectly timed to rev up the story and propel us to the conclusion. Great momentum there.
An engaging story, and author wisely gives us the list of characters at the end to prevent any confusion. With such a large cast of characters, this is important to prevent the reader from being overwhelmed.
Well done. An engaging read.
Structure, Organization, and Pacing: 4
Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar: 5
Production Quality and Cover Design: 5
Plot and Story Appeal: 5
Character Appeal and Development: 5
Voice and Writing Style: 5
|
|
|
