Trinity by Clare Davidson
Kiana longs to walk through a forest and feel grass between her toes. But she is the living embodiment of a goddess and has enemies who wish to murder her. Her death will curse the whole of Gettryne. Locked away for protection, she dreams of freedom. Her wish comes true in the worst possible way, when her home and defenders are destroyed. Along with an inexperienced guard and a hunted outcast, Kiana flees the ravages of battle to search for a solution to the madness that has gripped Gettryne for a thousand years. Pursued by the vicious and unrelenting Wolves, their journey will take them far beyond their limits, to a secret that will shake the world.
About the Author:
Clare Davidson is a character driven fantasy writer, teacher and mother, from the UK. Clare was born in Northampton and lived in Malaysia for four and a half years as a child, before returning to the UK to settle in Leeds with her family. Whilst attending Lancaster University, Clare met her future husband and never left. They now share their lives with their young daughter and a cranky grey cat, called Ash. Clare juggles family life with writing, teaching and a variety of fibre craft hobbies.
Skaric stared at the thick walls that surrounded the tower, his brow creased and his eyes narrowed. In the forest behind him, dry twigs snapped under dozens of booted feet belonging to lightly armoured Wolves. They strained against their orders, waiting impatiently for the nyxii to provide a way into the tower. There was so much tension and anticipation in the air that it made the hairs on Skaric’s arms rise. Any Guardian visible on the walls had already been dealt with; the rest were hiding like cowards within the tower. With them was the Wolves’ quarry.
The sound of heavy feet clomping across the bank to his right drew Skaric’s attention. His skin crawled as he watched Berend, the war leader, pace up and down. Fourteen years Skaric’s senior, he was a tall and brutally strong man, whose tanned, scarred skin and full beard made him look all the more fierce.
“She must die,” Berend said.
Skaric hated him.
They had been searching for seventeen years—ever since the last period of Thanatos had ended. Finally, they had found Miale: thanks to the wagging tongue of a desperate man. He knew that Berend couldn’t afford to let her slip through his grasp: the shame would be too great.
“We must avenge Ysia.” Berend stopped beside Skaric and folded his arms across his broad chest.
Skaric glanced at the war leader and then took a half-step away; he had always felt uncomfortable in Berend’s presence. Hopefully, Berend was too focused to notice the movement.
To their left, Vali, another nyxus, extended his hand towards the wall, his fingers tensed as fire leapt from them towards a Guardian who had dared to survey the scene. The man’s screams rang in Skaric’s ears. He clenched his teeth; he had never heard so much death.
“The walls are too strong,” Vali said. He turned and stared at Berend with sharp green eyes. He had a lean pinched face and hooked nose, making him resemble a hawk.
Skaric could almost feel Berend's rage growing in seething silence. It was the first time in three incarnations of Miale that the Wolves had gotten so close to destroying the Goddess’ body and bringing the time of Thanatos early.
“We have to make these bastards pay!” Berend said. “They deserve to suffer.”
Do they? Skaric turned his attention back to the tower. His fellow nyxii had sent searing flames hurtling at the walls, but the strong stone had barely been scorched. There was only one entrance into the tower, but an iron portcullis barred the way.
“Our fire cannot destroy stone or iron,” Vali said. “There’s no way for our men to get inside.”
Skaric bit into his lip. The sudden sharp pain helped to calm him. There was a way. He could see it. Fire didn’t have to be the only weapon of the nyxii.
“Nothing is impenetrable,” Berend said. “There has to be a way. Miale must die.”
Miale must die. They have subjected us to a thousand years of persecution. We must have our revenge. How many times had Skaric heard those words? Too many, but I have to live by them.
He forced his mouth to curl into the ghost of a smile. “There isn’t a weakness,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Yet.”
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