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Where do you hide from the monster bent on your destruction, when you don't remember its name? Where do you hide from the fire of forgotten memories? In the wake of ashes!
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Lorrieann Russell
In the Wake of Ashes continues the saga of William Fylbrigge, which began in Lorrieann Russell's first novel, My Brother's Keeper. In the year 1607, he was an idealist and reluctant heir to the Duke of Stonehaven. A trumped up charge of witchcraft brought about his torture, trial, and apparent death¾the only proof of his innocence. Left trapped within a broken body, his memories stolen from him, William Fylbrigge seems condemned to spend the rest of his life confined to an invalid's chair, forced to live under an assumed identity.
Five years later, William "Philbrick" lives peacefully in the tiny settlement of Port Edin, New France, with his wife and their young son. But peace is short-lived. In a cruel twist of fate, an innocent trek into the forest with friends goes terribly awry, and he is once again believed dead, and inadvertently left behind just as his family is called to return to Scotland. Lost, alone, and haunted by nightmarish memories of his former life, William must once again navigate a path through fire, and face again the demons of his past, to reclaim his future--and his life.
Excerpt
From Chapter 3
As the wind mingled through the trees with the coming of the dawn, it brought with it the promise of a gloriously warm spring day. The sun broke through the mists of rising dew, shrouding the forest in a sparkling veil. A lone sunbeam caught in a crook of a tree, sending a spear of light that fell directly into Ian’s half-opened eyes. He blinked back the assault, then turned onto his back and yawned. He stretched his arms above his head, wincing at the stiffness in his shoulders. As he swam up out of the depths of his sleep, he slowly began to remember where he was. He opened his eyes fully then sat up startled, realizing it was fully dawn.
“Bloody hell!” He looked around the camp for his companions, furious for allowing himself to sleep through the night without taking his turn to watch. Anger turned to panic when he heard the contented snoring on the opposite side of the corpse of the campfire and realized Ephraim had also been sleeping, which meant the only one left to keep watch… “My God.” He got to his feet and hurried to where Ephraim lay, cradling his wine flask lovingly in his crossed arms. He nudged the vicar with his foot. “Ephraim! Wake up.”
“Hmm? No, Josephine, it’s too early — ”
“Ephraim!” Ian shook the older man out of his stupor.
Ephraim swallowed a halted snore and turned a blank stare onto Ian, as he began to wake up. “Ian? Ah, good morning,” he said, through a groggy yawn. He opened his eyes fully, then looked up to Ian, and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s not here.” Ian hauled Ephraim up by his shirt. The two stood, surveying the campsite. The only trace of William to be found was the chariot, which lay overturned where they had left him the previous evening, and drag marks in the earth leading away from it, ending abruptly four feet or so away from where Ian had spent the night sleeping. Ian knelt down, examining the tracks. He moved aside what he had first thought was a windswept pile of forest clutter, and dirt, then stopped, hand in mid swipe. The debris he had disturbed was red and sticky. Then he saw it. “My God.”
“What is it?” Ephraim asked, craning over Ian’s shoulder.
Ian slowly reached for the torn piece of bloodied leather and held it to his nose to be sure there was no mistake of what he’d found. He handed it slowly over his shoulder to Ephraim, then stumbled into the forest and purged the contents of his stomach.
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