Spreading the word

June 14 is just seven weeks away. It’s time to start doing a bit of promotion for The Dark Citadel, the BIG YA fantasy event of 2013. Well, of June 14 anyway. In this household.

Tagline:

Evil is slouching into Providence. Will the awakening memories of a rebellious runaway be enough to send the demon back into the shadows?

Blurb:

Fifteen-year-old Deborah is angry and bitter. Rebelling against an arranged marriage to an idiot, she flees the oppression of Providence’s religious Elders to search for her exiled mother, the legendary Green Woman.

Zachariah, dark, brooding and unhappy crosses Deborah’s path as they both plot escape from the House of Correction. Dislike is instant and mutual, and Zachariah blunders off alone to seek the Green Woman’s magical Garden. In the desert wasteland, Jonah, the dog boy takes Deborah’s hand, first as a friend and guide, then as something more.

Abaddon, Lord of Hell is waiting to crush the green magic that will destroy his realm on earth. Deborah is discovering love and the mysterious power of her memories, but will this be enough to defeat the demon and the Elder’s regime, and dispel the shadows cast by the Dark Citadel?

Excerpt:

As always, the pups trotted in front at a steady lope, their bushy tails held low. One night, in the darkest hour before dawn, they stopped, hackles raised. As Jonah and Deborah listened to the throbbing darkness, they heard a shriek, like the call of a giant bird. The call was answered, again, and again.

“What is it?” Deborah whispered.

“Wyverns hunting.”

“Wyverns?”

“Some people, the desert wanderers, call them grave worms.”

Jonah clicked his tongue to warn the pups and pulled Deborah beneath a clump of spiny bushes where they huddled together, not daring to breathe. The air turned icy cold, and they felt the rush of leathery wings on their faces. The wind passed but they were aware of a presence hovering above them. Their flesh crept in revulsion, and an icy trickle of fear made its way down their backs. They could see nothing, but they could hear a reptilian hissing and the sound of sniffing. The steady flapping of broad wings sent waves of fetid air to rattle the bushes of their hiding place.

Deborah felt sick with terror. This is it, she thought in a panic, this is where it ends.

Jonah pushed Deborah’s head down into the sand. “Close your eyes,” he hissed. “Whatever happens, don’t look up.”

Suddenly, there was the swoosh of displaced air, and the bird-shriek rent the heavy air, followed by a cry that might have been the beginning of a bark and ended in a scream of agony. Jonah pulled Deborah’s head towards him into the shelter of his shoulder, grinding his clenched teeth. Then the cold air quivered, viscous and evil smelling, and the presence departed. They lay, clinging together until the darkness began to break up.

* * * *

“What is a wyvern?” Deborah’s voice trembled. “I mean, what does it look like?”

“Ugly. A great winged serpent,” Jonah’s voice too was unsteady, “two-footed and venomous. It got one of the pups, the filthy vermin! They smell warm blood; they see body heat. Nothing escapes them.” He shook his head to clear the nascent tears and tried a feeble smile. “It’ll be light soon, we should find somewhere better to hide.”

But he didn’t move, just carried on gazing at Deborah’s face. With her finger, she touched away the damp beneath his eyes then kissed the place where it had been. As they got slowly to their feet, Deborah slipped her hand shyly into his.