Meljean Brook's Blog, page 2

Win an ARC of A HEART OF BLOOD AND ASHES!

Three ways to win one of 7 copies!

Hey all! Just a reminder that there are a couple of ARC contests going on (and two about to end.)

Milla Vane: Open to everyone, two copies available. 

To members of the Milla/Meljean Facebook reader group: Three copies available.

Newsletter subscribers: Instructions were sent in the Nov 25th newsletter; if you are a new subscriber, send an email to contest@millavane.com with “ARC Giveaway” as the subject. You must be a subscriber to enter and you can subscribe here. 

ALSO DID YOU SEE THIS?

The post Win an ARC of A HEART OF BLOOD AND ASHES! appeared first on Meljean Brook.

I’m giving away two ARCs of A HEART OF BLOOD AND ASHES…

Hey all! I’m giving away a couple of ARCs over at my alter ego’s site: The Giveaway! Head over there to enter!

The post I’m giving away two ARCs of A HEART OF BLOOD AND ASHES… appeared first on Meljean Brook.

ARCs, giveaways, and other links!

I have accidentally managed to block every site on the internet except for gmail on my computer until December 4th, so I’m writing this post on my phone and you’ll have to forgive any typos.

First of all, A HEART OF BLOOD AND ASHES is up on Netgalley!

A quick caveat, though: readers sensitive to violence (warlike and sexual) might want to read the content warnings first.

http://millavane.com/books/content-warning/

 

Also, Berkley is giving away 50 copies on Goodreads (U.S. only, sorry! I’ll have international giveaways soon).

I will also have about 10 ARCs to give away, and I will be giving away most of them through my Facebook group or my newsletter so now is a great time to join both!

The post ARCs, giveaways, and other links! appeared first on Meljean Brook.

Milla Vane and Vengeance (has a new title.)

I just realized that I never updated my blog here with the news. Vengeance has a new title and release date!

A generation past, the western realms were embroiled in endless war. Then the Destroyer came. From the blood and ashes he left behind, a tenuous alliance rose between the barbarian riders of Parsathe and the walled kingdoms of the south. That alliance is all that stands against the return of an ancient evil—until the barbarian king and queen are slain in an act of bloody betrayal.

Though forbidden by the alliance council to kill the corrupt king responsible for his parents’ murders, Maddek vows to avenge them, even if it costs him the Parsathean crown. But when he learns it was the king’s daughter who lured his parents to their deaths, the barbarian warrior is determined to make her pay.

Yet the woman Maddek captures is not what he expected. Though the last in a line of legendary warrior-queens, Yvenne is small and weak, and the sharpest weapons she wields are her mind and her tongue. Even more surprising is the marriage she proposes to unite them in their goals and to claim their thrones—because her desire for vengeance against her father burns even hotter than his own…












IndieBound




Amazon




Barnes & Noble




Apple Books

The post Milla Vane and Vengeance (has a new title.) appeared first on Meljean Brook.

The barbarians are coming! Please update your newsletter subscription!

I sent out this newsletter but I’m pasting it here, too:

Hi everyone! So it’s been a long time since I’ve sent out a newsletter, but that’s because I didn’t have any news! Now I do.

As many of you know, I broke my steampunker brain and for years, I struggled badly while writing the Blacksmith’s story. I’m sorry to say that this is not an update regarding that book. I really hope to return to the Iron Seas, but it won’t be right away.

One of the other projects that I’ve been working on in the meantime, however, is the barbarian fantasy romance series that I began with the novella “The Beast of Blackmoor” in the NIGHT SHIFT anthology, written as Milla Vane.

And it’s Milla Vane who has an announcement regarding a release set in the same world as “The Beast of Blackmoor.” I’m still waiting on the final okay from my publisher (Berkley) to give all the details, but since I haven’t used this newsletter list for a long time, I want to make certain that everyone who is still subscribed is getting the news they want: whether that’s from Milla Vane or from Meljean Brook.

Also, in the years since my last newsletter, new rules went into effect regarding email marketing. To make sure I’m compliant with those rules, I am rebuilding this newsletter only with email addresses that have confirmed their subscription. I will send out another email to this list when we release the cover and book description (which will have an exclusive newsletter reveal!) but any following newsletters will only be sent to addresses that have confirmed their subscription.

So here is where you can do that! Please update your newsletter subscription for Meljean Brook/Milla Vane.

(If this link doesn’t work, you can scroll down to the bottom of this newsletter and click “update my preferences”.)

Please make sure to check both newsletters if you want to hear news regarding releases from both pen names! I don’t want to spam anyone, so if you are only signed up for Meljean, you won’t get anything from Milla.

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me via email through my website or on Facebook. I’m not active on Twitter much anymore as either Meljean or Milla (I think those accounts are only set to publish automated updates from my blog and newsletter) but in the days following this, I’ll make an attempt to check replies there.

I’m so excited to be back and can’t wait to tell you more about the upcoming releases!

My best,

Meljean/Milla

The post The barbarians are coming! Please update your newsletter subscription! appeared first on Meljean Brook.

Meljean, why aren’t you on Twitter?

Note: I originally published this on Facebook, but not everyone is on Facebook so I’m adding it here on my website. Also I’ve been asked to reactivate my Twitter account so the archive is there, and I did that. But although @meljean exists, I’m not logging into that account to check replies or DMs. If you have questions or concerns, PLEASE CONTACT ME! I’ve seen a few rumors and theories about why I abandoned Twitter that didn’t come from me and aren’t at all accurate, and I’m happy to answer questions about my decision. But the tl;dr version is that I just needed to shrink my online footprint for mental health reasons.

Just a super quick note: Toward the middle of February, I began deleting a couple of social media accounts—Twitter, Goodreads, etc. Since then I’ve had some readers asking if everything was okay ( thank you for asking!) and I am!

I just found myself having difficulty ignoring a lot of the social media accounts, so I’d compulsively check stuff and lose hours, and because of the number of people I followed/followed me, THERE WAS SO MUCH GOING ON. Even if I said “I’ll only check my replies,” I’d see some new drama pop up, and then down the rabbit hole I would go. I used (and still use) site blockers, but then I’d end up turning them off when something came up that I really wanted to follow, or I’d go around those site blockers.

And all this really did was add stress and anxiety because I’d waste time when I should have been writing, plus the added anxiety of the topic itself. Twitter has a constant stream of info coming at you from people who really do have a lot of interesting and important things to say. But I wasn’t doing a good job of prioritizing my own mental health and needs.

(And ha, this was explicitly demonstrated to be the right move, because I deleted my Twitter right before the plagiarism/ghostwriting scandal erupted, and although I of course followed it…not having a Twitter account that is connected to so much of romancelandia made it all much easier check in on the few people I still follow, then go. So I was informed but not obsessively checking, and it made a huge difference.)

Facebook is much easier to do the same, because I can just check my notifications and go. There is a timeline but I don’t pay much attention to it other than a quick scroll. Mostly I just see everyone posting Momoa pics, check in on a few pages and groups, and that’s it. So that’s why I kept this account here; so readers can contact me if they want to, but mostly it’s a lot less stressful.

Anyway, I did it pretty quietly because I didn’t want it to be a thing where people wondered “did she leave over this? Or that?” when really it was a personal decision and nothing to do with anyone else. But since readers have worried and sent me messages, I just want to clarify: Yep, I’m okay. Just trying to keep anxiety and stress to a minimum, and I wish that I could manage it better as it was, because I really love interacting with everyone. But after years of fighting my own tendencies and compulsion to check check check, the solution turned out to be decreasing my online space.

The post Meljean, why aren’t you on Twitter? appeared first on Meljean Brook.

I love Ripley & Furiosa. But the movies they’re in aren’t like Wonder Woman.

I’ve seen a lot of women in my Facebook and Tweetstreams saying things like, “There’s never been a superhero like this before!” and “I didn’t know this was what I wanted so much.”

I’ve also seen a lot of replies like, “So I guess you’ve never seen Ripley, or Furiosa, or Sarah Connor, or Rey, or Red Sonja, or any other female-led action movie since the 70s, huh?”

Well, of course we have. Who the hell doesn’t love Ripley? Who didn’t come back from seeing Mad Max: Fury Road in the theater and tell everyone to go see it? But here’s the thing: We still haven’t seen anything quite like Wonder Woman before. Why?

BECAUSE NONE OF THOSE FEMALE ACTION HEROES HAD PEOPLE TELLING HER THAT SHE COULDN’T DO THINGS BECAUSE OF HER GENDER.

Ripley lives in an apparently post-sexist world. She’s an officer on a spaceship. No one says to her, “No, you can’t advise the captain because you’re a woman!” If she’s on the bridge, no one says, “You can’t be in here, you’re a woman!”

Same with Furiosa. Although the world she lives in is obviously sexist and women are treated like cattle, EVERYONE is treated the same way. But there’s no one in the movie suggesting that she can’t be an Imperator because she’s a woman. No one is saying she shouldn’t drive a war rig because she’s a woman. No one suggests that if all the male generals and political leaders are talking in a room, that she might be confused by it all.

Same with Sarah Connor. Kyle Reese comes from a future where women and men fight alongside each other. He comes from a future in which Sarah Connor is KNOWN as a warrior-type woman who taught her son how to be a soldier. He’s there to protect her, but never once does he say, “You need protection because you’re a woman.” He knows she’s capable. Kyle KNOWS she’s going to save the damn world. The fact that she’s a woman doesn’t make him think she’s less capable of ANYTHING.

So when we say we haven’t seen a female hero in a huge production like this before, doing what Wonder Woman does … it’s true. We aren’t ignorant of film history. If you’re like me, you’ve taken every single scrap of every single warrior heroine who ever graced the screen – cringing sometimes, but so glad for every Alice in Resident Evil, every Bride, every Rey, every Red Sonja, every Supergirl (yes, the movie one), every Elektra, every Catwoman (but Michelle Pfeiffer’s over that other monstrosity because a COSMETIC COMPANY? REALLY?) and Tank Girl and Barb Wire and Lara Croft. You really think we haven’t seen those? And you really think we don’t know when we’re seeing something DIFFERENT? AND NEW?

Because it is. She was told she couldn’t wear those clothes. She was told she couldn’t be in that room. She was told to keep her voice down. She was told she couldn’t help the people she wanted to help and that she couldn’t cross No Man’s Land.

And I’m so glad they set it in WWI when all of that is overt. I don’t know how it would have played in a contemporary setting. Not that there’s equality now but that people are just better about pretending inequality doesn’t exist.

Anyway. Seeing that response over and over as if one kickass heroine is the same as any other, as if the experience of WATCHING them kick ass is the same, no matter the context…it just bothers me. I love all of these movies. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen Aliens. I can’t tell you how many people I urged to see Fury Road or describe the utter joy of watching Furiosa on screen.

But it wasn’t the same as watching Wonder Woman.

The post I love Ripley & Furiosa. But the movies they’re in aren’t like Wonder Woman. appeared first on Meljean Brook.

Semi-Yearly Update! (TL;DR version: it’s not a novella anymore!)

[image error]So…yeah. In August, I was all “who wants to review my barbarian novella that should be done September-ish?!” and a bunch of people signed up* and I was all whee, yay, Meljean is coming out with something soon, even if she calls herself Milla.

NOW IT’S 2017 

And VENGEANCE is not a novella anymore. (Raise your hand if you are surprised.)

It’s not even a novella by MY standards! (Like TETHERED was originally a “bonus novella” in HEART OF STEEL … at 50K words. I originally expected this to be around that length. Hahahahaha!)

So. It’s still coming. It’s just longer than I thought it would be. And the Blacksmith is right after it. I hired an awesome artist for some cover art and expect to see that any day. Until then, the poster version to the left is the placeholder.

Er… So, what else have I been doing since my last update?

Well, ROGUE ONE was awesome.

I haven’t seen a ton of movies, though.

Haven’t read a ton, either. Mostly a lot of Harlequin manga.

And I made some cover art (though not as much anymore, now that my writing mojo is back.) But really, who cares? All that matters is the writing, yeah?

But here is some of that art anyway. This will be pretty much close to my last batch of cover art, except for maybe series I’ve already started, because, yay! Writing again.

[image error]
[image error]
[image error]
[image error]
[image error]

So that’s Meljean at the beginning of 2017. Mojo reclaimed. And once again writing WAY over her intended word count.

 

*If you signed up or sent me an email, yes — you will still get the ARC. It’ll just be bigger. And longer. And harder. 

The post Semi-Yearly Update! (TL;DR version: it’s not a novella anymore!) appeared first on Meljean Brook.

Vengeance ARC Sign Up

Not the final cover, probably, but works for now. Sign up for an ARC of VANEECNGE!

So! I expect this story (long novella or short novel or whatever it turns out to be) will be finished around the end of August/beginning of September. At that point, I would like to send out advance review copies to interested readers. However!

This is by Milla Vane, not Meljean Brook

There’s a reason why I use a different pen name for these stories: they are darker in tone and content than my Meljean Brook stories (and seriously, I’ve had readers who said they won’t read Meljean again because of my first story in this world, so I’m really not kidding about the difference!) I will be putting ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS on the novella when it comes out, because although the sexual relationship between the hero and heroine is consensual (though sometimes more of a power struggle than strictly romantic) the world itself is not full of consensual things and terrible things happen to people in it. There is a happy ending (of course) and baddies will get what they deserve (most of them do) but it won’t always be the easiest journey.

If you’ve read THE BEAST OF BLACKMOOR (in the NIGHT SHIFT antho) you’ll have a pretty good idea of what you’re getting into (although VENGEANCE is even a bit darker).

If you haven’t read that novella, then maybe think GRRM but without all the main character deaths? Except I haven’t read or really watched GAME OF THRONES so even that, I’m just going by what I pick up from spoilers online.

I haven’t even written up a story description yet

Because writing cover copy is SO HARD. Basically it’s set in a world where there are a bunch of warrior barbarians and ancient- and medieval-type societies and swords and axes and velociraptors and demons and gods and mammoths. And

It’s about a warrior whose family was killed by the heroine’s family, and he’s determined to get his revenge … and he has no idea that the heroine wants vengeance even more than he does.

Oh, and she’s a lot smarter than him, too.

 

I have (kind of) an excerpt up here — part of this was cut (too wordy and dense!) but most of the final bit will actually be in the book. So you can get a feel for it, at least.

So! If you feel like you would like a copy to REVIEW (I don’t care where, but a review would be awesome — and here is my review policy, just in case you’re worried that I’ll be an author beast) then sign up below!

The entries are limited to one hundred reviewers. Leave a comment if you have any problems.

Vengeance ARC Signup
Meljean is publishing a long novella? short novel? as Milla Vane in her barbarian world. You can sign up for a review copy here.

Your Name*Email*


Enter Email



Confirm Email


I will not use your email address for any other purpose except to send a review copy. I will never transfer or sell your information. Format*MOBIEPUBKindle = .mobi

Nook, Kobo, and most other ebook readers = ePub

 

 

The post Vengeance ARC Sign Up appeared first on Meljean Brook.

Quarterly Update – Barbarians and the Blacksmith

Well, this basically sums up everything that needs to be known re: Meljean Brook, because I’m going to sleep until this movie comes out.

Okay, maybe not really. But DAAAAAMMMMNNNNNNN. And Aquaman is coming, too. *weeps with joy*

Okay but what about the stories, Meljean????

Ah! Okay, so I’m halfway through VENGEANCE, my Milla Vane barbarian story. I’m also finishing up a small project and then diving into the Blacksmith. So the next quarterly update I have, I expect to be well into that book.

Hmm, let’s see. What else is there? Not much. So here is something I posted to Facebook — I cut this out of the barbarian story because I decided to start it at a later point, but I guess it can be read as a wordy prologue? (You might see some of it re-used in the revised version, but basically this is gone from the story.)

 

Dawn was a distant gleam upon the jagged teeth of the Fallen Mountains when the Parsatheans mounted their horses and struck hard for home. The riders carried nothing but what was necessary for the journey. In the encampment overlooking the river Lave, whose pebbled banks were still stained by the blood of Farian savages slain in recent battle, they left behind wagons and livestock, coldstone caches filled with coarse grain and dried meat, and the heavy armor that would fold even a Parsathean steed’s mighty legs if forced to bear the weight across unforgiving terrain day after day, through two full turns of the moon.

North the grim-faced warriors raced, unburdened but for the grief in their hearts—for the previous eve had brought news that their queen and king were dead.

That grave burden lay heaviest upon the heart of the warrior who led the long column of riders. Maddek, he was called.

The queen and king of Parsathe had called him their son.

Four abreast, the riders climbed forested hills that gave way to treeless flats. For seven mornings, sullen clouds spilled torrents of lukewarm rain that steamed into a crawling mist beneath the midday sun. Thousands of pounding hooves trampled tender shoots of grass, and their thundering passage stamped a muddied road into the earth.

A tennight into their journey, the full moon rose over green plains teeming with herds that ranged from horizon to horizon. The warriors pierced the bestial mass in tight formation, like an arrow of straining horseflesh and shining steel, with Maddek the razor-tipped head. Around them, armorbacks snorted and squatted over dirt-mounded nests. Shaggy bison calves kicked their heels and danced between the column-like legs of dappled trumpeters. At the deep, resounding call from one of those great beasts, hundreds more raised long elegant necks, their plumed heads turning to watch the riders pass.

The warriors did not pause to hunt for meat or furs. Their mounts were their dining halls, the cold ground their beds. But although even battle-hardened muscles ached, no complaint issued from their lips.

Laughter did, as the days passed and the moon waned. Grief softened and song returned to their tongues, ballads that spoke of lusty warriors and legendary rulers—and of the goddess Temra, who had broken through the vault of the sky and reshaped the world with the pounding of her fist, forcing life to sprout from the earth’s barren face. Temra, whose loving arms welcomed the souls of the dead back into her eternal embrace.

Though sorrow lay like stone upon Maddek’s features, even his granite mouth smiled when the warriors told their ribald jokes. Though his deep voice did not lift in song, he felt the rhythm through his blood like the beat of war drums. But his grief did not soften; instead it hardened around his heart like steel.

Silver-fingered Rani had carried his parents into Temra’s arms too early.

Nothing had been left unsaid between mother and father and son. Every Parsathean warrior knew life was too uncertain to leave important words unspoken. But when Maddek had last seen them, his queen and king spoke of finding him a bride and of strengthening the alliance between Parsathe and the southern city-states. Nothing was left unsaid, but there was much left undone.

So Maddek would see it finished in their stead.

\* \* \*

Two days’ ride beyond the sluggish waters of the Ageras, the white stone walls of Ephorn became visible in the distance. Maddek had heard soldiers from the city claim that glimpsing Ephorn from across the meadowlands was akin to gazing upon a shining mountain.

Maddek agreed. It looked like a mountain—a pale squatting one, built upon a hill of its own dung.

Walls should not swell a soldier’s breast with pride. Walls symbolized not strength but fear. Ephorn and the nearby sovereignties—Toleh, Syssia, Rugus, and Goge—had built their walls because they feared each other and feared their common enemies: the Parsatheans to the north and the Farians to the south. Yet for generations, their rulers still conspired and warred amongst themselves, the riders still invaded and raided their cities, and the savages still raped and slaughtered their citizens.

And thirty years ago, Anumith the Destroyer had broken through their walls as easily as he’d torn through Parsathean hunting camps.

Hoofbeats quickened behind Maddek as his first captain urged her mount to pull even with his.

Her gaze was fixed ahead. “Ephorn sends a welcome.”

Maddek had seen the approaching riders, but Enox had likely seen more. Though the gray in her braids had overtaken the black, her dark eyes were keen—keener than his own. “Under whose banner?”

“The council’s.”

The council to the alliance that had formed between Parsathe and the southern city-states after the Destroyer had marched through these lands. An alliance created not to stand against the Destroyer—it had been too late for that—but to stand against the warlords and sorcerers who sought to conquer the shattered remains the Destroyer left in his wake. An alliance in which each member had an equal voice and whose council ministers spoke on behalf of their home.

Former enemies and rivals, bound together to a common purpose—an alliance, but often an uneasy one. Their voices were equal but their contributions to the alliance’s defenses could not be. Unlike Parsathe, where every citizen was taught to ride and hunt and fight, in the southern city-states only a small number became soldiers. So each member of the alliance contributed what the council deemed was of equal value. Swords from Rugus, grain from Goge…warriors from Parsathe.

A life, deemed equal to a few barrels of mead or a length of steel. But it mattered not. Maddek knew his own worth and the worth of every warrior who rode behind him.

The sun gleaming dully on their brass helms, the council guard approached. Though the guard was made up of men and women from each member of the alliance, in their armor they were indistinguishable from soldiers in any of the other city-states. Maddek could only recognize the Parsatheans by the strength of their mounts and the silver upon their fingers. When a warrior returned home after serving on the council guard, sometimes they spoke of Ephorn’s riches—but mostly they spoke of how they sweltered.

The southerners did not just wrap themselves in walls. Their soldiers wrapped their bodies in heavy armor, even when they were not in combat, as if delivering a message were as dangerous as heading into battle. The citizens wrapped themselves in cloth from neck to ankle, even on days when they did not need protection from the cold or wind. An entire life they spent wrapped as if for a funeral pyre.

The day was warm and Maddek didn’t anticipate a fight, so his own chest was bare, aside from the leather baldric slung across his shoulder to carry his sword. He wore no black paint over his brow. The only silver upon his fingers was the family crest circling the base of his thumb; he’d tucked away the razor-tipped claws that would drip with blood by the end of a battle.

Dressed to ride, not to make war—yet he still saw the wariness that darkened the captain of the guard’s eyes.

Many southerners within the alliance still believed the Parsatheans were little better than the savages. The riders were still called raiders and thieves—and uncivilized.

Maddek had never known the raid. By the time he’d been old enough to ride his first horse, the alliance between Parsathe and the southern city-states had been firmly established, and the silver and steel the Parsatheans had once taken was freely given in exchange for their warriors’ strength. But if civilization meant cowering behind walls, then Maddek preferred to be a barbarian.

And in a god’s age, when their civilized walls were crumbling to dust, when the names of their civilized cities were forgotten, Parsathean seed would still grow strong amid the ruins.

A few paces ahead, the captain of the guard abruptly reined in his mount. Maddek’s jaw tensed. If a Parsathean warrior had drawn so hard on his horse’s mouth, he’d have found himself marching on foot for a sennight.

“Greetings, Commander Maddek!” Despite his heavy hands and wary eyes, he sat easy in his saddle. His face was shaven in the manner of Gogean men, chin bare and jaw full-bearded. “The Council of the Great Alliance bids you welcome and requests your presence at the citadel.”

To ask for an accounting of the savages’ heads, no doubt. Maddek intended to ask for an accounting of his own. “I will come shortly.”

“I will let them know to expect you, commander.” The captain’s gaze swept the long column of riders behind him. “Lady Pylla adds that the resources of Ephorn are at your disposal.”

And Maddek would use them. A full turn of the moon had passed since the Parsatheans had left the Lave encampment, and it would be another full turn before they reached home. Their horses needed rest and his warriors needed to replenish their stores.

He looked to Enox. “Lead them to the northern flat.” Where there was fresh water and grazing for the horses, yet the riders would be near enough to the city to enjoy the pleasures of it. “We will make camp for three days.”

Wry amusement curved Enox’s mouth. “And ride out fat and drunk on the fourth day,” she said before turning to eye the grinning rider behind her. “Kelir, you and your five will accompany Ran Maddek to the citadel and serve as his Hand.”

_Ran Maddek. _It was the first time any of the warriors had called him by the title that had belonged to Maddek’s mother and father. But it was not his title yet. And wouldn’t be, unless all of Parsathe claimed his voice as theirs.

Enox met his grim look with a lift of her chin. She had probably not liked hearing the captain of the guard call him ‘commander’—that was the alliance’s title for him, not a Parsathean’s. “Please give greetings to my old father and tell him I expect a great feast delivered to our camp tomorrow.”

Her father, Nayil, who sat on the council as Parsathe’s minister.

“I will,” Maddek said. There was much he would be asking Nayil for. A feast for her.

Answers for him.

***

(Okay and maybe the next part won’t be deleted and I didn’t post it to Facebook yet.)

 

Beneath the shadow cast by the wall, sallow-cheeked children played between mudbrick houses that only saw the sun at midday. No breeze stirred the stale air but for the wind created by Maddek and the six Parsathean warriors who followed him, their mounts’ hooves clattering on the cobblestone road.

Visible beyond the clay-tiled roofs rose the shining blue spires of the citadel. The fortress at the city’s center had served as home to Ephron’s king until Anumith the Destroyer had slaughtered the royal bloodline. Afterward, no one had taken the king’s place on the throne, though many nobles still lived. Instead the city had come under the protection of the Court of Muda—the goddess of law.

Before the Destroyer left the region, his warlords had razed every temple except for those belonging to the sun god, but Muda’s court had not claimed the king’s citadel for its own when they took over rule of Ephorn. Instead they rebuilt their temple—square and unadorned—at the foot of the royal fortress, which became the seat of the alliance.

And it was at the citadel where all the splendor of Ephorn was put on display. In the great courtyard beyond the fortress’s outer gates, lush gardens breathed their perfume into the air. Fountains splashed into gleaming marble basins. Market stalls boasted pots full of colorful spices and hung a dazzling array of silks. At the open tables, mead flowed like rivers to wash down mountains of roasted meats.

It was the city that never hungered or thirsted. Some said it was because Muda herself favored Ephorn, so its fields always yielded a bounty and its wells always ran clear.

Maddek could not claim to know whether the goddess of law cared for crops and water. But he thought her favor had been helped along by Ephorn’s location. Centered as it was between the four other city-states, in the past it had not been raided or attacked as often as the cities on the borders. And most roads—along with all the trade they brought—took a central route through the region instead of crossing through Parsathean and Farian territory, so the merchants of Ephorn often bought from foreign traders on the cheap and sold their wares to the other city-states at a profit.

But perhaps they called that the goddess’s favor, too.

Maddek passed through the inner gates and dismounted at the base of the Tower of the Moon—the tallest of the four great towers within the citadel. With sheer walls of seamless white marble topped by a sapphire spire that pierced the sky, it had once served as the royal keep. Now it was home to the alliance council.

He glanced over at Kelir, still on his horse. The big warrior’s head was tilted far back as he took in the height of the tower.

A mournful expression passed over Kelir’s scarred face when he saw Maddek’s gaze upon him. “All of my life, I have held the tales of Ran Bantik close to my heart. I would have told them to my own children. Now I know them all to be false. ”

Tales of the legendary thief-king of Parsathe, who had long ago united the tribes that rode the Burning Plains. “Why?”

“No one could have scaled _those_ walls to steal the pearl from Ephorn’s crown. Easier to scale a wall of greased steel.”

So it would be. But a man did not become a legend by only doing what others believed to be possible.

Maddek did not think that argument would sway Kelir, though. “Is the feat not as impressive if he climbed the stairs?”

“How can it be? Shall I tell my children how Ran Bantik gasped for breath when he reached the top? Shall I say how he must have clutched his burning chest as he stole the pearl?”

“If Ran Maddek were to race to the upper chambers, he would not be gasping for breath—and neither would I.” This came from Ardyl, who had also dismounted and now looked up at Kelir with a frown creasing her black-painted brow. “Perhaps if you more often ran beside your horse instead of always sitting on him, you could also reach the top unwinded.”

Kelir looked to Maddek as if for help, but Maddek had none to give the other warrior, not while he was laughing his agreement.

“When I see the keep, I do not think of Ran Bantik,” Ardyl added as she took Maddek’s reins. The warriors would not accompany him inside but remain in the courtyard with the horses. “Instead I wonder what sort of fools the royal family must have been to build a majestic tower that honors the moon goddess, though it is by Muda’s favor that they all prosper.”

“What insult could that be?” Kelir frowned at her. “Vela gave birth to Law. What daughter would not see her mother honored?”

Ardyl’s response was a pointed glance at the silent warrior mounted a few paces behind him. Danoh’s feud with her mother was almost as legendary as any thief-king; many Parsatheans claimed the only time they’d ever heard her speak was when she yelled at the older woman.

With a laugh, Kelir bowed his head to acknowledge his defeat.

Movement on the tower steps drew Maddek’s attention. A seneschal in blue robes was coming to greet him, a wiry Tolehi man with shaved head and pursed lips. Omer. Maddek knew him well. He’d first met the seneschal as a boy, visiting the tower while his parents spoke to the council, and he’d spent a full morning in an antechamber with the seneschal watching him as an antelope watches a drepa—with trembling limbs and pounding heart, fearing the raptor’s sickle claw that would spill its innards to the ground.

Though a sickle claw from his first drepa hunt had already hung from the leather thong around his throat, Maddek hadn’t spilled the man’s innards. Instead he’d eaten his way through a platter of roasted boa. He had pleasant memories of that morning, even if the seneschal did not.

“Commander Maddek.” Omer imperiously swept his hand toward the tower entrance. “The council is ready to receive you, if you are ready to be received.”

The doubt in his tone suggested that Maddek was not. “I am.”

The older man sniffed as Maddek joined him. “If you wish, I will escort you to the bathing chambers first.”

Grinning his amusement, Maddek climbed the steps. “I do not wish.”

There was no shame in carrying the odor of horse and sweat, or in wearing the grime of travel and camp on his skin. That was what it meant to serve the alliance. He would not pretend a warrior could remain clean while doing it.

As it was, they should be grateful he always washed away the blood, or he would have faced them dripping an ocean of it.

With a sword’s worth of steel in his spine, Omer tipped back his head to meet Maddek’s gaze. “I would offer a robe so that you could clothe yourself before meeting the ministers, but we do not have any large enough to cover your mountainous expanse of flesh. But did I not see a mammoth’s pelt rolled up and tied to your beast of a horse?”

Not a mammoth’s but a bison’s—and it was too warm for furs. Maddek no longer used his except to sleep on.

He said simply, “I am already dressed.”

In red linen folded over a wide belt. The inner length of cloth hung to his knees. When it was raining or cold, he could draw up the longer outer length and drape it over his shoulders, but now it fell almost to the ground, all but concealing the soft leather boots that protected his feet and hugged his calves. The outer length of linen was split to allow for ease of movement, but unless he was riding or fighting, it covered him as well as a robe—from the waist down.

Omer gave his bare chest a despairing glance before sighing and continuing across the marble floor inside the tower’s entrance. In silence they walked, until they reached the anteroom outside the council’s chamber.

There the seneschal quietly said, “It was with great sorrow that I learned what befell Ran Ashev and Ran Marek. Your queen and king were always the most welcome of the council’s visitors. Of those who knew them, there can be not one who does not grieve for them now.”

Maddek inclined his head but made no other response, except to draw the red cloth up over his shoulder and drape it across his chest.

AND THAT’S ALL THE NEWS FROM MELJEAN UNTIL THIS STORY IS OUT.

The post Quarterly Update – Barbarians and the Blacksmith appeared first on Meljean Brook.