About the Yekara Series
The Yekara Series focuses on the fate of a human colony seven centuries after their crash landing on a planet they thought was uninhabited by other sentient life. The humans and Yekarans, a dragon-like species native to the planet, have a long standing relationship benefiting both. Yet, human nature being what it is, petty jealousies and prejudices new and old threaten to topple everything Terran and Yekaran alike have built and hold dear.
While the majority of the story will be contained in a series of novels, the occasional flash fiction or short story is added to the overall canon. The entirety of Yekara Series canon material is listed in chronological order below.
Please be aware any flash fictions or short stories listed between books may contain spoilers for any works listed above.
While the majority of the story will be contained in a series of novels, the occasional flash fiction or short story is added to the overall canon. The entirety of Yekara Series canon material is listed in chronological order below.
Please be aware any flash fictions or short stories listed between books may contain spoilers for any works listed above.
Before the Fall
“I thought you were my friend.” Zalier huffed, dropping his guard and stance to pout at his opponent.
“I am,” Ralic agreed. He held position but left his practice sword raised. “But it is my duty as a friend to tell you that, at this, you are lacking.”
He lunged, raising the sword to make a downward stroke at Zalier’s head. Zalier’s eyes went wide, and he scrambled back, flailing pitifully with his own sword in an attempt to block. It failed, and Ralic’s dull, wooden blade thumped against the other boy’s head.
The others in their group laughed from where they watched from the arbor benches. Leander trotted forward and clapped Zalier on the shoulder, halting him before he would have tripped over one of the hedges.
“Haven’t you learned never to let your guard down in front of this one?” Leander teased. He wrapped an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders and pulled him in, pretending to mutter a secret to him while speaking loudly enough for all those present to hear. “Virchow’s sly as an olec and twice as fast.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zalier grumbled as he pushed Leander away. “More like a no good cheat.”
“No such thing as cheating in a fight,” Ralic said with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever keeps you from getting dead is fair game. The idea a fight can be clean is one thing that’s holding you back.”
Zalier, with a generous amount of prodding from Leander, squared up for another round with Ralic. Leander stayed just long enough to start another match for the two before returning to their friends in the arbor.
This time, Zalier charged, swinging low toward Ralic’s legs. Instead of pulling back, the young prince moved forward as he blocked the move, striking Zalier in the chest with a shoulder in the same move. Before Zalier could shift to strike again, Ralic stopped the pumel of his sword a centimeter from his temple.
They reset and started again. Zalier attacked, this time striking high. Ralic ducked under the swing and landed a blow against Zalier’s back. Reset. He hung back and goaded Ralic into attacking only to fall for a feint that ended with a tap of the prince’s sword against his knee. Reset. Try another tactic and fail. Reset again.
By the time the girls began to complain of being bored, Zalier was panting and beyond humiliated.
Ralic nodded his agreement to the girls’ requests to tour the remainder of the gardens and motioned for Zalier to toss him the other training sword. Fighting back the urge to chuck the thing as hard as he could at his irritating friend, Zalier did as he was bid. Friend or no, angering the heir apparent was a poor idea indeed, and if he did nothing else this afternoon, Ralic had proven how much better he was in a fight. No, he’d prefer to keep what pride he had remaining, thank you.
“You should fire your swordmaster,” Ralic murmured as he and Zalier turned toward the arbor.
“Why?” Zalier asked, falling into step beside the prince.
“They’ve boxed in your thinking,” Ralic explained. “That’s what is hampering your skills. You need a trainer who can think on their feet.”
“But Emsas is the best swordmaster in the north.”
They joined Valera and Rosnine at the edge of the arbor. The girls left the shaded arch provided by the cascades of flowering vines. Rosnine accepted Zalier’s offer of his arm, but Valera held to no such formalities with Ralic, instead grasping his hand and threading her fingers through his.
“Then you’d be better off focusing on a different means of defending yourself,” Ralic said as they followed the rest of their group through the meandering labyrinth of manicured hedges. “Or,” Ralic glanced back over his shoulder and gave Zalier a teasing smirk, “Valera might teach you if you ask nicely.”
The girl in question huffed and bumped her shoulder into her betrothed’s arm. “I have as many lessons and duties as you,” she said. “Why not offer up your own time?”
Ralic laughed. “Because you, my dear, have far more patience than I could ever hope to have.”
“I am,” Ralic agreed. He held position but left his practice sword raised. “But it is my duty as a friend to tell you that, at this, you are lacking.”
He lunged, raising the sword to make a downward stroke at Zalier’s head. Zalier’s eyes went wide, and he scrambled back, flailing pitifully with his own sword in an attempt to block. It failed, and Ralic’s dull, wooden blade thumped against the other boy’s head.
The others in their group laughed from where they watched from the arbor benches. Leander trotted forward and clapped Zalier on the shoulder, halting him before he would have tripped over one of the hedges.
“Haven’t you learned never to let your guard down in front of this one?” Leander teased. He wrapped an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders and pulled him in, pretending to mutter a secret to him while speaking loudly enough for all those present to hear. “Virchow’s sly as an olec and twice as fast.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zalier grumbled as he pushed Leander away. “More like a no good cheat.”
“No such thing as cheating in a fight,” Ralic said with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever keeps you from getting dead is fair game. The idea a fight can be clean is one thing that’s holding you back.”
Zalier, with a generous amount of prodding from Leander, squared up for another round with Ralic. Leander stayed just long enough to start another match for the two before returning to their friends in the arbor.
This time, Zalier charged, swinging low toward Ralic’s legs. Instead of pulling back, the young prince moved forward as he blocked the move, striking Zalier in the chest with a shoulder in the same move. Before Zalier could shift to strike again, Ralic stopped the pumel of his sword a centimeter from his temple.
They reset and started again. Zalier attacked, this time striking high. Ralic ducked under the swing and landed a blow against Zalier’s back. Reset. He hung back and goaded Ralic into attacking only to fall for a feint that ended with a tap of the prince’s sword against his knee. Reset. Try another tactic and fail. Reset again.
By the time the girls began to complain of being bored, Zalier was panting and beyond humiliated.
Ralic nodded his agreement to the girls’ requests to tour the remainder of the gardens and motioned for Zalier to toss him the other training sword. Fighting back the urge to chuck the thing as hard as he could at his irritating friend, Zalier did as he was bid. Friend or no, angering the heir apparent was a poor idea indeed, and if he did nothing else this afternoon, Ralic had proven how much better he was in a fight. No, he’d prefer to keep what pride he had remaining, thank you.
“You should fire your swordmaster,” Ralic murmured as he and Zalier turned toward the arbor.
“Why?” Zalier asked, falling into step beside the prince.
“They’ve boxed in your thinking,” Ralic explained. “That’s what is hampering your skills. You need a trainer who can think on their feet.”
“But Emsas is the best swordmaster in the north.”
They joined Valera and Rosnine at the edge of the arbor. The girls left the shaded arch provided by the cascades of flowering vines. Rosnine accepted Zalier’s offer of his arm, but Valera held to no such formalities with Ralic, instead grasping his hand and threading her fingers through his.
“Then you’d be better off focusing on a different means of defending yourself,” Ralic said as they followed the rest of their group through the meandering labyrinth of manicured hedges. “Or,” Ralic glanced back over his shoulder and gave Zalier a teasing smirk, “Valera might teach you if you ask nicely.”
The girl in question huffed and bumped her shoulder into her betrothed’s arm. “I have as many lessons and duties as you,” she said. “Why not offer up your own time?”
Ralic laughed. “Because you, my dear, have far more patience than I could ever hope to have.”
Testing the Waters
“I didn’t do it!”
Eugrin looked up at his tutor with the wide-eyed, quivering chin expression he knew pulled at her heartstrings. He even willed tears to begin gathering in his eyes. Nadia couldn’t stand to see him crying, after all, and she’d go easy on him.
“Really?” Nadia asked. She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Do you mean to tell me the salt and sugar switched themselves when I wasn’t looking? Or did you develop a taste for salty tea since yesterday?”
“Oh wait, that. Yes, I did do that.” He gave her the sheepish grin he’d been practicing. “I gave myself away, huh?”
Nadia nodded. She picked up the salt shaker and shook a good spoonful into her tea. Eugrin watched with anticipation as the woman stirred the beverage and raised the cup to her lips. The look of abject disgust on her face when she realized the salt and sugar were never switched in the first place was a sight to behold.
“You little liar!” Nadia scolded once she’d managed to choke down the horrific beverage. “You’ll drink the cup you ruined to play that little prank as punishment.”
Eugrin shrugged and gulped down the salty cup of black tea with cream. To be sure, it wasn’t as pleasant as it would have been with a bit of sugar, but it wasn’t as bad as the woman made it seem. Seeing the results of his experiment was worth a distasteful cup of tea with his breakfast.
“Next time you think to deceive others, remember that taste,” Nadia said. She pursed her lips and covered the breakfast try with more force than necessary. “You will return this tray to the kitchens and apologize to the staff for the wasted ingredients and time.”
“Why should they care?”
“They work hard to make good food for us to eat,” Nadia said. “What you did was not just disrespectful to me, but to them and their hard work as well.”
A look of concerned worry passed over her features, and Eugrin thought it was the most beautiful Nadia had ever looked.
“You’re a smart boy, Eugrin,” she said. “But you must learn to think of how your actions affect others if you want to grow up to be a good man.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He gave her a look of contrition and bowed his head as he took the tray. Eugrin let his expression fall back to neutral once the door closed behind him, and he marched toward the kitchens. When she’d called his name in an admonishing tone during their meal earlier, he thought Nadia had found the surprise he’d left for her sooner than expected. He’d almost laughed when she made it plain she’d only proven as malleable as he theorized she’d be.
Now, if he could just find a way to observe her the moment she found her beloved puppy wasn’t as lively anymore, his day would be perfect.
Eugrin looked up at his tutor with the wide-eyed, quivering chin expression he knew pulled at her heartstrings. He even willed tears to begin gathering in his eyes. Nadia couldn’t stand to see him crying, after all, and she’d go easy on him.
“Really?” Nadia asked. She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Do you mean to tell me the salt and sugar switched themselves when I wasn’t looking? Or did you develop a taste for salty tea since yesterday?”
“Oh wait, that. Yes, I did do that.” He gave her the sheepish grin he’d been practicing. “I gave myself away, huh?”
Nadia nodded. She picked up the salt shaker and shook a good spoonful into her tea. Eugrin watched with anticipation as the woman stirred the beverage and raised the cup to her lips. The look of abject disgust on her face when she realized the salt and sugar were never switched in the first place was a sight to behold.
“You little liar!” Nadia scolded once she’d managed to choke down the horrific beverage. “You’ll drink the cup you ruined to play that little prank as punishment.”
Eugrin shrugged and gulped down the salty cup of black tea with cream. To be sure, it wasn’t as pleasant as it would have been with a bit of sugar, but it wasn’t as bad as the woman made it seem. Seeing the results of his experiment was worth a distasteful cup of tea with his breakfast.
“Next time you think to deceive others, remember that taste,” Nadia said. She pursed her lips and covered the breakfast try with more force than necessary. “You will return this tray to the kitchens and apologize to the staff for the wasted ingredients and time.”
“Why should they care?”
“They work hard to make good food for us to eat,” Nadia said. “What you did was not just disrespectful to me, but to them and their hard work as well.”
A look of concerned worry passed over her features, and Eugrin thought it was the most beautiful Nadia had ever looked.
“You’re a smart boy, Eugrin,” she said. “But you must learn to think of how your actions affect others if you want to grow up to be a good man.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He gave her a look of contrition and bowed his head as he took the tray. Eugrin let his expression fall back to neutral once the door closed behind him, and he marched toward the kitchens. When she’d called his name in an admonishing tone during their meal earlier, he thought Nadia had found the surprise he’d left for her sooner than expected. He’d almost laughed when she made it plain she’d only proven as malleable as he theorized she’d be.
Now, if he could just find a way to observe her the moment she found her beloved puppy wasn’t as lively anymore, his day would be perfect.
Plotting Under the Influence
“We don’t need to control him. We need to unleash him.”
Brihanni’s expression made it difficult for him to keep a straight face. Her eyes were wide, and she opened her mouth to speak only to close it again a second later. Her brow furrowed, and she let out a frustrated squeak before finding her voice.
“What do you mean, unleash him?” she exclaimed. “He’s broken! You’re idiot commander...”
“Yes.” Ralic interrupted her before she worked herself into a froth over what happened to her former mistress once again. His head still ached from her last tirade, and he only had so much patience. “I know.”
“You want to unleash a crazed dragon on the world?” Her tone and the lift of one thin eyebrow made it obvious she expected him to tell her this was one huge joke any moment now, and he planned to kill the beast.
“Hardly the world,” he said with a shrug. He smirked as the color drained from Brihanni’s face. “One of their own turned against them. Can you imagine a more effective weapon?”
“One you can aim.”
The speed and flat tone with which the lady’s maid responded surprised a bark of laughter from Ralic.
“Fair point,” he said.
Ralic uncorked one of the decanters he kept in his shelves and poured a bit of brandy into a glass before offering it to Brihanni. She accepted it and gulped half the contents down before grimacing at the burn. He poured another for himself and sauntered back to his desk.
“I suppose we will need some measure of control over him,” Ralic said as he slid into his chair. He leaned back and watch the liquor slosh as he swirled it in the glass. “Just enough to aim him at Reiont.”
“I suppose you want to move the capitol here then?” Brihanni asked. “The broken rarely leave anything but ash, according to legend.”
Ralic shrugged. “Does it matter? How a land is governed matters more than where it’s governed from.”
“True.” Brihanni’s color had returned to normal and a rosy glow began darkening her complexion as she finished off the brandy he’d given her. She shuddered. “I can’t stand the thought of a telepath on the throne, and the boy’s too healthy to die before your father.”
The woman grew quiet. Draining the last dregs from her glass, Brihanni melted into her chair. Her eyes drooped with fatigue and the low alcohol tolerance he’d teased her about when they were teenagers.
“We’ll have to stop him at some point,” she said. “It won’t be easy. Not now, and really not once he’s killed.”
“That’s where the other weapons I’m having forged come in.” He sat his empty glass on the desk.
“You have weapons capable of destroying a dragon?”
“I’m going up against families allied with the creatures for centuries,” Ralic answered. He rolled his eyes and wondered if it was the booze in her system or if she really was that dense.
Brihanni’s expression made it difficult for him to keep a straight face. Her eyes were wide, and she opened her mouth to speak only to close it again a second later. Her brow furrowed, and she let out a frustrated squeak before finding her voice.
“What do you mean, unleash him?” she exclaimed. “He’s broken! You’re idiot commander...”
“Yes.” Ralic interrupted her before she worked herself into a froth over what happened to her former mistress once again. His head still ached from her last tirade, and he only had so much patience. “I know.”
“You want to unleash a crazed dragon on the world?” Her tone and the lift of one thin eyebrow made it obvious she expected him to tell her this was one huge joke any moment now, and he planned to kill the beast.
“Hardly the world,” he said with a shrug. He smirked as the color drained from Brihanni’s face. “One of their own turned against them. Can you imagine a more effective weapon?”
“One you can aim.”
The speed and flat tone with which the lady’s maid responded surprised a bark of laughter from Ralic.
“Fair point,” he said.
Ralic uncorked one of the decanters he kept in his shelves and poured a bit of brandy into a glass before offering it to Brihanni. She accepted it and gulped half the contents down before grimacing at the burn. He poured another for himself and sauntered back to his desk.
“I suppose we will need some measure of control over him,” Ralic said as he slid into his chair. He leaned back and watch the liquor slosh as he swirled it in the glass. “Just enough to aim him at Reiont.”
“I suppose you want to move the capitol here then?” Brihanni asked. “The broken rarely leave anything but ash, according to legend.”
Ralic shrugged. “Does it matter? How a land is governed matters more than where it’s governed from.”
“True.” Brihanni’s color had returned to normal and a rosy glow began darkening her complexion as she finished off the brandy he’d given her. She shuddered. “I can’t stand the thought of a telepath on the throne, and the boy’s too healthy to die before your father.”
The woman grew quiet. Draining the last dregs from her glass, Brihanni melted into her chair. Her eyes drooped with fatigue and the low alcohol tolerance he’d teased her about when they were teenagers.
“We’ll have to stop him at some point,” she said. “It won’t be easy. Not now, and really not once he’s killed.”
“That’s where the other weapons I’m having forged come in.” He sat his empty glass on the desk.
“You have weapons capable of destroying a dragon?”
“I’m going up against families allied with the creatures for centuries,” Ralic answered. He rolled his eyes and wondered if it was the booze in her system or if she really was that dense.
Ralic’s Mistake
The door swung open, the well maintained hinges giving her no warning save its motion. Chantal shoved the papers she’d gathered between the pages of the tome she carried before her father entered. He was deep in conversation with his steward, giving her precious seconds to calm herself.
“Chantal,” Ralic said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I finished my studies early, Father. I wanted to see if you’d take lunch with me,” she lied. Her heart beat in her chest like a wild thing, and she marveled neither her father nor his steward could hear it. If they knew she’d stolen records from Ralic, her father would turn her over to Eugrin for punishment, daughter or no. What would he do if he knew what she intended to do with them?
“If only I could, precious,” Ralic replied. “Unfortunately the rarity of pleasant days during transition leaves little time for rest when they come.”
“I understand, Father.” Chantal nodded slowly, trying her hardest to appear disappointed and understanding instead of giving away her relief. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
She nodded to Eugrin as she stepped into the hall, only allowing herself a secret smile as the door swung shut.
“Chantal,” Ralic said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I finished my studies early, Father. I wanted to see if you’d take lunch with me,” she lied. Her heart beat in her chest like a wild thing, and she marveled neither her father nor his steward could hear it. If they knew she’d stolen records from Ralic, her father would turn her over to Eugrin for punishment, daughter or no. What would he do if he knew what she intended to do with them?
“If only I could, precious,” Ralic replied. “Unfortunately the rarity of pleasant days during transition leaves little time for rest when they come.”
“I understand, Father.” Chantal nodded slowly, trying her hardest to appear disappointed and understanding instead of giving away her relief. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
She nodded to Eugrin as she stepped into the hall, only allowing herself a secret smile as the door swung shut.
Right of Succession
Yekara Series Book 1
|
For years, Chantal felt something was not quite right in Tembar Flats. It couldn't be normal for people to live in fear and mourn impending births. When she learns the truth about her father's work, Chantal must choose between family and the law.
Tensions are on the rise in Reiont as Prince Lanre's wedding approaches. Upon her arrival at the capital, Chantal finds herself caught in the middle of courtier's ambitions. Can she navigate this larger world and remain unchanged, or will she be shaped by the lure of power? |
The Countess
She stood out from the crowd because of her coloring. Until the day she came to Reiont, Samuel had only ever seen one other person with red hair. It was one of the first things that drew him to her.
When they’d spoken during Lanre and Maya’s wedding, Chantal had seemed shy and more than a little sheltered. He only learned the truth of it once the battle for Tembar Flats was underway. He’d reported to Aligh’s office for his shift as always, only to be informed of the force sent to retrieve Count Ralic for trial and the new role he was appointed to fill.
Samuel left for Tembar within a couple hours of his new king’s return. The sight of a singed and bedraggled Lanre, weeping in silence as he carried his unconscious and bloodied queen, is one he doubted he’d ever forget.
He expected to find carnage inside the fallen castle. Such things were inevitable when diplomacy failed and negotiations were handled at the end of a sword. He’d heard murmurings about a prodigious weapon capable of tearing through a dragon’s wing with one blow, but he’d thought it hyperbole until he’d seen the crumbled towers.
Several officers from Reiont’s forces and a few civilians met him at the gates. He listened to their damage and status reports as they led him toward the master’s study. He felt odd having an assistant trailing behind and taking notes of everything said. Just yesterday he’d been the assistant, and the swift status change made Samuel feel off balance.
The toll was historic. Tekar had seen its share of battles over the centuries, but none like this. He looked out over the northern battlements and shuddered. No wonder their ancestors had forbidden such weapons long before the crash.
Samuel followed a nurse through the halls toward the overflowing infirmary. The exhausted young woman had waited until all the other reports were given before delivering hers and asking him to come with her. Until she’d mentioned Chantal, he hadn’t dreamed the girl would have had any part in the siege of Tembar Castle.
He saw her the moment they entered the huge, bustling room. Her bright hair stood out in stark contrast to the white bandages wrapped around her head and much of her face. She lay quiet and still, dwarfed by a bed designed to hold soldiers.
Looking down at her now, she looked younger than Samuel knew she had to be. She was too tall and carried herself too well to be younger than sixteen or seventeen. Still, what were Aligh and Lanre thinking, having a child guide a squadron into battle?
Chantal stirred, mumbling something as she blinked unfocused eyes.
“Lay still,” Samuel admonished in a soothing voice. He laid his hand on her uninjured arm.
“I need to help,” Chantal slurred. It was obvious she was only half awake, but she struggled to sit up anyway.
“And you will,” Samuel said. “But first you have to heal.”
When they’d spoken during Lanre and Maya’s wedding, Chantal had seemed shy and more than a little sheltered. He only learned the truth of it once the battle for Tembar Flats was underway. He’d reported to Aligh’s office for his shift as always, only to be informed of the force sent to retrieve Count Ralic for trial and the new role he was appointed to fill.
Samuel left for Tembar within a couple hours of his new king’s return. The sight of a singed and bedraggled Lanre, weeping in silence as he carried his unconscious and bloodied queen, is one he doubted he’d ever forget.
He expected to find carnage inside the fallen castle. Such things were inevitable when diplomacy failed and negotiations were handled at the end of a sword. He’d heard murmurings about a prodigious weapon capable of tearing through a dragon’s wing with one blow, but he’d thought it hyperbole until he’d seen the crumbled towers.
Several officers from Reiont’s forces and a few civilians met him at the gates. He listened to their damage and status reports as they led him toward the master’s study. He felt odd having an assistant trailing behind and taking notes of everything said. Just yesterday he’d been the assistant, and the swift status change made Samuel feel off balance.
The toll was historic. Tekar had seen its share of battles over the centuries, but none like this. He looked out over the northern battlements and shuddered. No wonder their ancestors had forbidden such weapons long before the crash.
Samuel followed a nurse through the halls toward the overflowing infirmary. The exhausted young woman had waited until all the other reports were given before delivering hers and asking him to come with her. Until she’d mentioned Chantal, he hadn’t dreamed the girl would have had any part in the siege of Tembar Castle.
He saw her the moment they entered the huge, bustling room. Her bright hair stood out in stark contrast to the white bandages wrapped around her head and much of her face. She lay quiet and still, dwarfed by a bed designed to hold soldiers.
Looking down at her now, she looked younger than Samuel knew she had to be. She was too tall and carried herself too well to be younger than sixteen or seventeen. Still, what were Aligh and Lanre thinking, having a child guide a squadron into battle?
Chantal stirred, mumbling something as she blinked unfocused eyes.
“Lay still,” Samuel admonished in a soothing voice. He laid his hand on her uninjured arm.
“I need to help,” Chantal slurred. It was obvious she was only half awake, but she struggled to sit up anyway.
“And you will,” Samuel said. “But first you have to heal.”
Father’s Day Visit
She decided to go to her father’s grave, to ask his advice.
It lay alone in a tiny, forgotten clearing at the foot of the Andreas Mountains. He’d been afforded little more than a criminal’s burial, and with as few remains as were found, it looked like the final resting place of a child. Vegetation was just beginning to retake the soil, and she could smell the loamy sent of damp earth as she approached.
Chantal stood over the plot and gazed down at the thin marker bearing his name, birth date, and date of death. Forty-five years of life for such an ambitious man reduced to a name and two dates engraved on a stone already half covered by wild grasses. Standing there sweating in the heat until her scalp burned despite the shade of nearby trees and an afternoon breeze, Chantal thought it justice.
“Did you know?” she asked aloud. “I can’t imagine you did, or you’d have tried to turn me into a weapon too wouldn’t you?”
Her voice rose and cracked. Despite his attempts to be as unintrusive as possible, Chantal remained keenly aware of Tricon’s lingering presence near the tree line. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself calmer.
“I’m leaving to begin training tomorrow,” she said. “Without it, I’m dangerous.” Chantal scoffed. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, and I’m a danger to myself and everyone around me because of it!”
“I’ve been named your successor, so I’ll be training for that too.” Chantal shook her head and chuckled without humor. “Thanks for the incredible amount of damage we have to clean up, buy the way. That’s terrific!”
“The investigators figure you went insane as the retrovirus you injected rewired your brain.” She sighed and looked around the clearing. “That’s the only reason you have as nice of a grave as you do.”
Chantal glared at the marker. “After you made me a killer, I’d have dumped your ashes in the fields. At least then you might have done some good.”
Pain flaring in her fingers and wrist drew Chantal’s attention away from her rant. She’d wrapped her fingers around her mother’s bracelet until it dug into them and her wrist. Chantal released the gold chain and wrapped her arms around herself.
“I didn’t come here to rehash your crimes,” she murmured. “I’m to become Duchess of Tembar when I come of age.”
A tear seared down Chantal’s cheek. “How do I assume rule, even if it’s just of Tembar, without becoming a monster like you?”
It lay alone in a tiny, forgotten clearing at the foot of the Andreas Mountains. He’d been afforded little more than a criminal’s burial, and with as few remains as were found, it looked like the final resting place of a child. Vegetation was just beginning to retake the soil, and she could smell the loamy sent of damp earth as she approached.
Chantal stood over the plot and gazed down at the thin marker bearing his name, birth date, and date of death. Forty-five years of life for such an ambitious man reduced to a name and two dates engraved on a stone already half covered by wild grasses. Standing there sweating in the heat until her scalp burned despite the shade of nearby trees and an afternoon breeze, Chantal thought it justice.
“Did you know?” she asked aloud. “I can’t imagine you did, or you’d have tried to turn me into a weapon too wouldn’t you?”
Her voice rose and cracked. Despite his attempts to be as unintrusive as possible, Chantal remained keenly aware of Tricon’s lingering presence near the tree line. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself calmer.
“I’m leaving to begin training tomorrow,” she said. “Without it, I’m dangerous.” Chantal scoffed. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, and I’m a danger to myself and everyone around me because of it!”
“I’ve been named your successor, so I’ll be training for that too.” Chantal shook her head and chuckled without humor. “Thanks for the incredible amount of damage we have to clean up, buy the way. That’s terrific!”
“The investigators figure you went insane as the retrovirus you injected rewired your brain.” She sighed and looked around the clearing. “That’s the only reason you have as nice of a grave as you do.”
Chantal glared at the marker. “After you made me a killer, I’d have dumped your ashes in the fields. At least then you might have done some good.”
Pain flaring in her fingers and wrist drew Chantal’s attention away from her rant. She’d wrapped her fingers around her mother’s bracelet until it dug into them and her wrist. Chantal released the gold chain and wrapped her arms around herself.
“I didn’t come here to rehash your crimes,” she murmured. “I’m to become Duchess of Tembar when I come of age.”
A tear seared down Chantal’s cheek. “How do I assume rule, even if it’s just of Tembar, without becoming a monster like you?”
Don’t Forget Me
“It’s never a good idea to startle a sleeping dragon.”
Chantal jumped and spun around. Teshari grinned at her. Roggsha’s quiet snores filled the room from where she was curled on her pallet. Chantal blushed and looked down at the floor.
“Come on,” Teshari whispered. “I’ll get something for you to eat while you wait for Roggsha to wake up.”
“Yes ma’am.” Chantal followed the Yekaran woman into her simple kitchen. At Teshari’s direction, she clambered up onto the smallest of the cushions tucked under the gigantic table.
Teshari moved into the cooking area. Sunlight trickled into the room through large windows and glittered off Teshari’s light, blue scales. Chantal marveled at the control Roggsha’s adoptive mother displayed as she moved about in silence and sliced the barest bit of roasted meat from the leftovers she’d pulled from a cold box. Yet, when Teshari sat the food in front of her, Chantal was stunned to see it was enough for three portions. It’d looked like almost nothing from across the room.
“Thank you,” she said.
Teshari slid one of the larger cushions out from under the table and sat.
“Don’t you want any?” Chantal asked.
“We ate last night,” Teshari answered. “I’m still quite full, but thank you for asking.” She gave Chantal one of the awkward looking, closed lipped smiles the Yekaran’s adopted around humans. “Is there a reason you’re in such a hurry to visit with Roggsha today?”
Chantal picked at the meat, trying to tear a bit off without the benefit of a knife. “I’m scheduled to leave for training tomorrow,” she answered. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit again, so I wanted to say good-bye.”
“That explains your visit, but not why you snuck off to her room when I went to help Tricon.”
Shrinking down in her seat, Chantal mused that all mothers seemed to share the same stern tone. “I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her,” she said. “She’s growing so fast, and no one remembers being a tot.” Chantal trailed off. Her face burned, and she gave up trying to tear the meat in favor of biting off a chunk. Chewing gave her an excuse not to say any more for a time.
“You’re afraid she won’t remember you when you come home,” Teshari said.
Chantal nodded.
“Young Yekaran’s have better memories than human children,” Roggsha’s mother assured her. She lowered her head and regarded Chantal with warm, brown eyes. “It’s a side effect of how fast we mature.” Yekaran body language was lost on Chantal still, but her tone was teasing.
“Besides, Roggsha will hibernate with us when winter comes. By the time we wake, you’ll be home for holiday. Or we could come visit you.”
“I thought Yekaran’s couldn’t fly until they were two.” Fear of Roggsha tumbling out of the sky filled Chantal’s heart.
Teshari laughed. “They can’t,” she said. “But there’s this lovely invention called a cart. We pull. She rides.”
Chantal jumped and spun around. Teshari grinned at her. Roggsha’s quiet snores filled the room from where she was curled on her pallet. Chantal blushed and looked down at the floor.
“Come on,” Teshari whispered. “I’ll get something for you to eat while you wait for Roggsha to wake up.”
“Yes ma’am.” Chantal followed the Yekaran woman into her simple kitchen. At Teshari’s direction, she clambered up onto the smallest of the cushions tucked under the gigantic table.
Teshari moved into the cooking area. Sunlight trickled into the room through large windows and glittered off Teshari’s light, blue scales. Chantal marveled at the control Roggsha’s adoptive mother displayed as she moved about in silence and sliced the barest bit of roasted meat from the leftovers she’d pulled from a cold box. Yet, when Teshari sat the food in front of her, Chantal was stunned to see it was enough for three portions. It’d looked like almost nothing from across the room.
“Thank you,” she said.
Teshari slid one of the larger cushions out from under the table and sat.
“Don’t you want any?” Chantal asked.
“We ate last night,” Teshari answered. “I’m still quite full, but thank you for asking.” She gave Chantal one of the awkward looking, closed lipped smiles the Yekaran’s adopted around humans. “Is there a reason you’re in such a hurry to visit with Roggsha today?”
Chantal picked at the meat, trying to tear a bit off without the benefit of a knife. “I’m scheduled to leave for training tomorrow,” she answered. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit again, so I wanted to say good-bye.”
“That explains your visit, but not why you snuck off to her room when I went to help Tricon.”
Shrinking down in her seat, Chantal mused that all mothers seemed to share the same stern tone. “I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her,” she said. “She’s growing so fast, and no one remembers being a tot.” Chantal trailed off. Her face burned, and she gave up trying to tear the meat in favor of biting off a chunk. Chewing gave her an excuse not to say any more for a time.
“You’re afraid she won’t remember you when you come home,” Teshari said.
Chantal nodded.
“Young Yekaran’s have better memories than human children,” Roggsha’s mother assured her. She lowered her head and regarded Chantal with warm, brown eyes. “It’s a side effect of how fast we mature.” Yekaran body language was lost on Chantal still, but her tone was teasing.
“Besides, Roggsha will hibernate with us when winter comes. By the time we wake, you’ll be home for holiday. Or we could come visit you.”
“I thought Yekaran’s couldn’t fly until they were two.” Fear of Roggsha tumbling out of the sky filled Chantal’s heart.
Teshari laughed. “They can’t,” she said. “But there’s this lovely invention called a cart. We pull. She rides.”
On the Job Stress
“Technically it wasn’t on fire,” he said.
“Of course it wasn’t on fire! You completely blew it up!”
Lanre grimaced at the wave of stressed anger the newly minted duke sent his way and rubbed his temple, trying to ease an ache setting up behind his left eye. “Come on, Samuel,” he said. “I’ve already apologized and agreed to send as many masons as I can spare to help with repairs. What else do you want me to do?”
He stretched his neck from one side to the other before returning his full attention to the other man. Samuel’s jaw was tight, and he was turning an alarming shade of puce.
“How was I supposed to know my insane uncle had redeveloped gunpowder?” Lanre asked. “Or that he was crazy enough to store cases of it in the towers?”
“I don’t know, Aldeshara being shot out of the sky, maybe?”
Lanre could almost feel his blood pressure spike before the steadying wash of Maya reinforcing his mental shields rolled over him. He crossed his arms to try and quell his hands shaking as he reminded himself the other man was only a week into rule. Sending a burst of gratitude to his wife along their bond, Lanre glared at Samuel.
“You need to remember your manners, Duke,” he chided. “I understand the pressures you are under, but it is no excuse for behaving like a child.”
Samuel went even more rigid, but his color began to fade to normal. His expression relaxed, and he allowed his head to drop forward. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“If you double check your reports, you will find Brigton and I attacked the northwest tower before the first shot was fired,” Lanre continued. “It was an unlucky coincidence Ralic had a cannon installed there.” He paused. “Or lucky we struck before it was prepared, depending on how you look at it. Can you imagine the carnage two of those things would have caused the Yekaran contingent?”
Samuel’s head jerked up, and he paled. Lanre caught a shock of horror from the other man.
“I’ve asked much of you in the past week, Duke Bane,” Lanre said. He offered a sympathetic smile. “I apologize for the condition in which you found Tembar, and as stated before, you will have the full support of Reiont as you rebuild.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Samuel smoothed his clothes and nodded.
Lanre regarded the other man with the first genuine grin he’d worn all day when Samuel straightened. “A word of advice,” he offered.
Samuel nodded.
“Find a competent assistant, at least until Chantal finishes her training,” Lanre said. “Grandfather can’t say enough about how much you helped him for so many years, but assisting is a far cry from bearing the weight of rule alone.”
“Of course it wasn’t on fire! You completely blew it up!”
Lanre grimaced at the wave of stressed anger the newly minted duke sent his way and rubbed his temple, trying to ease an ache setting up behind his left eye. “Come on, Samuel,” he said. “I’ve already apologized and agreed to send as many masons as I can spare to help with repairs. What else do you want me to do?”
He stretched his neck from one side to the other before returning his full attention to the other man. Samuel’s jaw was tight, and he was turning an alarming shade of puce.
“How was I supposed to know my insane uncle had redeveloped gunpowder?” Lanre asked. “Or that he was crazy enough to store cases of it in the towers?”
“I don’t know, Aldeshara being shot out of the sky, maybe?”
Lanre could almost feel his blood pressure spike before the steadying wash of Maya reinforcing his mental shields rolled over him. He crossed his arms to try and quell his hands shaking as he reminded himself the other man was only a week into rule. Sending a burst of gratitude to his wife along their bond, Lanre glared at Samuel.
“You need to remember your manners, Duke,” he chided. “I understand the pressures you are under, but it is no excuse for behaving like a child.”
Samuel went even more rigid, but his color began to fade to normal. His expression relaxed, and he allowed his head to drop forward. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“If you double check your reports, you will find Brigton and I attacked the northwest tower before the first shot was fired,” Lanre continued. “It was an unlucky coincidence Ralic had a cannon installed there.” He paused. “Or lucky we struck before it was prepared, depending on how you look at it. Can you imagine the carnage two of those things would have caused the Yekaran contingent?”
Samuel’s head jerked up, and he paled. Lanre caught a shock of horror from the other man.
“I’ve asked much of you in the past week, Duke Bane,” Lanre said. He offered a sympathetic smile. “I apologize for the condition in which you found Tembar, and as stated before, you will have the full support of Reiont as you rebuild.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Samuel smoothed his clothes and nodded.
Lanre regarded the other man with the first genuine grin he’d worn all day when Samuel straightened. “A word of advice,” he offered.
Samuel nodded.
“Find a competent assistant, at least until Chantal finishes her training,” Lanre said. “Grandfather can’t say enough about how much you helped him for so many years, but assisting is a far cry from bearing the weight of rule alone.”
Midnight Rising
Yekara Series Book 2
This novel is currently in the planning stages. Any flash fiction past this point may currently be viewed as a "sneak peak."
The New Arrival
“But I didn’t ask for this,” Chantal protested as she peered into the spacious room. “Aren’t all of the students, no matter their background, housed in dormitories? That’s what it said in everything I read these last few months.”
“That is true, Lady Virchow,” Madam Toribio answered. “However, most students come to use as young children. You are a young woman old enough to have duties and concerns outside your studies here in need of tending, and therefore require a bit of privacy.”
Chantal turned to find the elderly telekinetic watching her with an almost grandmotherly grin.
“It’s not much,” continued Madam Toribio, “just a vacant set of staff quarters.”
“It’s more than enough,” Chantal said. She squeezed the handle of her bags, not daring to set them down.
“Tembar is under the care of a qualified regent, who has my full trust,” she continued. “I’ve come prepared to give the training my full focus. I am grateful for the consideration, but I can stay in the dorms, the same as any other trainee.”
Madam Toribio chuckled. “I’m sure you could, but, my dear Lady Virchow, I’m afraid you’d find them terribly uncomfortable.” She smiled, and fine lines creased around her dark eyes. “The beds in them are meant for children between the ages of four and twelve, and you’re no short thing. Your feet would dangle off the end!”
The image shocked a laugh out of Chantal, and she felt the heat of a blush spread over her cheeks. “Oh, that would be a bit odd and uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed it would, dear,” Toribio agreed with another grin before her expression shifted into a more somber one. “Please make these rooms your home,” she said. “But this is the only bit of ‘special treatment’ you’ll enjoy.”
“Yes, Madam Toribio,” Chantal agreed with a nod.
“Very good, Miss Virchow,” Toribio said. “Dinner is served in the dining hall at seven. You’re to be seated with the new trainees at the far end of the hall, so I do hope you enjoy the company of little ones. Lights out is at eleven, and you will find the rest of the information you’ll need in your welcome packet waiting for you on the desk.”
“Yes, Madam Toribio.”
“Very good.” The woman gave Chantal a thin lipped grin and a sharp nod. “I’ll see you at dinner then, and remember, punctuality is a virtue. Tardiness will not be tolerated.”
“Yes, Madam Troibio!”
“That is true, Lady Virchow,” Madam Toribio answered. “However, most students come to use as young children. You are a young woman old enough to have duties and concerns outside your studies here in need of tending, and therefore require a bit of privacy.”
Chantal turned to find the elderly telekinetic watching her with an almost grandmotherly grin.
“It’s not much,” continued Madam Toribio, “just a vacant set of staff quarters.”
“It’s more than enough,” Chantal said. She squeezed the handle of her bags, not daring to set them down.
“Tembar is under the care of a qualified regent, who has my full trust,” she continued. “I’ve come prepared to give the training my full focus. I am grateful for the consideration, but I can stay in the dorms, the same as any other trainee.”
Madam Toribio chuckled. “I’m sure you could, but, my dear Lady Virchow, I’m afraid you’d find them terribly uncomfortable.” She smiled, and fine lines creased around her dark eyes. “The beds in them are meant for children between the ages of four and twelve, and you’re no short thing. Your feet would dangle off the end!”
The image shocked a laugh out of Chantal, and she felt the heat of a blush spread over her cheeks. “Oh, that would be a bit odd and uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed it would, dear,” Toribio agreed with another grin before her expression shifted into a more somber one. “Please make these rooms your home,” she said. “But this is the only bit of ‘special treatment’ you’ll enjoy.”
“Yes, Madam Toribio,” Chantal agreed with a nod.
“Very good, Miss Virchow,” Toribio said. “Dinner is served in the dining hall at seven. You’re to be seated with the new trainees at the far end of the hall, so I do hope you enjoy the company of little ones. Lights out is at eleven, and you will find the rest of the information you’ll need in your welcome packet waiting for you on the desk.”
“Yes, Madam Toribio.”
“Very good.” The woman gave Chantal a thin lipped grin and a sharp nod. “I’ll see you at dinner then, and remember, punctuality is a virtue. Tardiness will not be tolerated.”
“Yes, Madam Troibio!”
To be continued...
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