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Sorrow of the Dragon Gods on Amazon
Official Author Page of Pam Mosbrucker
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: CreateSpace
ISBN-10: 1481987070
Type: Fiction
Pages: 464
Copyright: August 3, 2013
ISBN-13: 9781481987073
Price: $4.96 (eBook)
For millennia, mortals have been bound by the covenant of the dragon gods, worshiping the creatures to gain access to the fount of magic deep within the realm. Journey through the kingdoms of light and dark as Cauri discovers the truth about her past and struggles to save the land of Solace from the encroaching darkness.
Cauri’s violet eyes flashed as she flicked her hand, summoning a ball of flame into her palm. The corridors were oppressively dark. She felt herself holding in a breath and let it out slowly. Up ahead, she could just make out flickering torchlight. She was trying to get her bearings when something kicked her hard on the back of the knees and she went down, face first onto the cold, marbled floor. Cauri grunted as dust blew up into her eyes.
“You made this too easy, witch,” the she-devil hissed.
Cauri twisted on the ground while the she-devil violently wrenched her thick mane of raven hair, taking in the appearance of her captor. She-devils were concubines who chose the path of darkness for the glory of serving in the Land of the Dead. Regal and authoritative above Cauri, the she-devil’s seductive form was distressed by jagged scars from brutal injuries running down her crimson legs and crossing the lower portion of her taut stomach. Her armor was flawed by wicked dents of battles fought over her lifetime as an immortal being.
Struggling in the violent grasp, Cauri asked, “where are you taking me?” The she-devil’s throaty laugh sent shivers down Cauri’s spine. “To Derasi. You’ll serve the army of Mistress Angeline as a much-needed concubine.”
For millennia, mortals have been bound by the covenant of the dragon gods, worshiping the creatures to gain access to the fount of magic deep within the realm. Journey through the kingdoms of light and dark as Cauri discovers the truth about her past and struggles to save the land of Solace from the encroaching darkness.
Excerpt
Thick blood poured from Lieutenant Maric’s nose as he panted on the rough ground, his hands bound with ragged ropes at his sides, listening to the boisterous cackles of his goblin captors. With bile welling in his throat, he struggled against the bonds, the rocky dirt scratching the exposed flesh of his chest.
The goblin guards stood over him and laughed without mercy, kicking him crudely in the side. This time, they had something to bring to their Mistress, someone who had failed. They swung their spiked clubs with great enthusiasm, tearing jagged slices on his shoulders, shredding his privileged green leather uniform, and ripping it roughly from his body until he wore only the scraps left to cover his bottom and legs.
Maric considered their thick green legs as they circled him, taunting him. They were, as far as he could tell, much like large green, muscular men. Each had a round, olive green face with dull orange eyes and thick, greasy tufts of hair. They stood nearly eight feet tall, and moved with the pronounced sway Maric had previously associated with that of a drunken troll.
Their massive arms dangled absently at their trunk-like sides, and they carried the dangerous clubs like an extension of themselves, swinging it as they walked as if it were needed for balance. If not for their surprisingly human need to taunt him, he would have thought them at most simple creatures.
He now had no doubt as to their vicious intelligence in their ways of making a man talk.
Shuddering with dread, he awaited the fact that they may just tear him to shreds out of sheer boredom, or perhaps they would grow weary of their torture and finally remember their orders and escort him into the castle of the Mistress Angeline, the notorious necromancer of the Land of the Dead.
Tears filled his eyes as he realized that this mistake would surely forfeit his life this time. The Mistress wasn’t one for forgiveness. In fact, his blood oath quest for information had been utterly useless.
He had always been drawn to the more sinister powers of the dark, but losing his faith in the light now seemed the more costly mistake. If he believed in the light now, he would never have allowed her to seduce him, never have followed her seductive promises, and never have pledged himself her agent; he certainly would never have betrayed his fellow soldiers before.
Not for anything.
A goblin grunted with the effort of kicking Maric in the side. For a moment, the world spun in shaky torment as Maric fought to regain his breath. He watched a tear roll down his nose, landing in the puddle of blood forming below his chin. He had failed his Mistress too. He wished suddenly that he hadn’t summoned those devils to Teoth. Then none of this would be happening. And thousands of people wouldn’t be dead at his hands, only for him to be sacrificed to the undead army as the price of his failure.
“Get up, filthy scum,” taunted one of the goblins. It muttered that it’d be more fun to drag him into the castle in pieces, than let him walk in as if they hadn’t done a proper job at torturing. One nudged him with a club, as if seriously reconsidering their task.
With a sigh, he got clumsily to his feet, and stood as tall as he could manage for his captors. He wouldn’t deny her will. If he was to die, he was ready.
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