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Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Cully Mack Publishing
ISBN-10: 1916097014
Type: Fiction
Pages: 325
Copyright: April 6, 2020
ISBN-13: 9781916097018
Price: $3.88 (eBook)
A Scream That Shatters is the second novel in the Voice that Thunders epic fantasy series filled with explosive revelations and betrayals where romances bloom and others are severed.
A BROTHER FATED * A SISTER FREED * A SHADOW WHO DOESN’T FEAR THEM
Mirah has risen from the ashes of her slaughtered clan to become the greatest Elemental Wielder the immortals have ever known.
But the immortals craving her power are nothing compared to another darkness rising. Mirah calls it the Shadow – a defiling beast trapped in the other realm who bound her to itself.
Her brother Gabe may be the Voice of Thunder destined to lead the war, but Mirah knows the Shadow is creeping closer and its reach is too powerful. She has seen the devastating lengths to which it will go, and it shattered her heart.
Mirah faces a profound choice: stay and fight for humanity’s freedom, and risk the Shadow’s wrath, or flee to protect the brother she loves.
A Scream That Shatters is the second novel in the Voice that Thunders epic fantasy series filled with explosive revelations and betrayals where romances bloom and others are severed.
Excerpt
Prologue
They’d all been told.
If Shemyaza’s Wielders and Nephilim perished it was up to them to ensure he died. Of the five sent into Isriq only he remained. His fellow brothers in anguish fled like bolting rabbits, never to return.
So he watched and waited. Waited for the opportune moment.
Hidden in plain sight. No one here knew his burdens, his torment, his face. Assassin.
His mind regurgitated the horror, the threats. The glee as Shemyaza drank their pain. Dagger pushed in hand, promoted. Assassin was now his name. Never take another’s life his father always said.
And here he was ready to ambush, watching and waiting for the opportune moment.
Why?
A promise. He knew it was a lie but a slim chance, it could save them…
No one noticed as he prowled, smashing his figurine against the floor. No one noticed as his dagger almost slip from his belt.
He saw them all seated high, saw the adoration of the crowds. Saw the one marked by Shemyaza for destruction.
Liquor breath quelled his doubts. He exited the inn into the celebrations, searching, waiting.
He’d never know if Shemyaza kept his promise but still, he might...
One thing he knew— his last words. It was insisted he say them.
Shemyaza requires your heart.
❊ 1 ❊
Isriq city set Nate’s nerves on edge. Cut from sharp volcanic rock, its ominous black buildings lay on uneven foundations. He shuddered as a brisk wind chased him up a narrow street with jagged walls. At least the shortcut was empty. One push from the crowds celebrating Gabe’s victory and the rock would tear his flesh.
He ascended a steep slope heading towards the colossal lion-headed sculpture of Ninurash. Carved from white marble, Ninurash loomed over the city marking an easy reference point to his destination.
As he walked, he considered why Shargaz hadn’t destroyed the old gods’ shrines and temples as Shemyaza had done before repurposing their gold for his throne room. Shemyaza insisted the old gods were inferior, unworthy and none were invincible like him.
All Nate’s life he’d believed Shemyaza undefeatable until now.
Long ago the central area in Isriq was levelled to make way for the zinc-clad circular temple. Ahead of him, small clusters of Gula healers passed under mighty columns to offer morning-light devotions. Their flounced robes shimmered in the dawn like bronze flames leaping up from charcoal.
The climb up the seventy stepped black rock stairway made his calves cramp. He paused at the apex and a south wind blew him sideways. Tensing battle weary shoulders, he strode between the talon footed legs of Ninurash and shivered, half expecting the statue to wake up and swing the golden mace gripped in its clawed hand.
The similarity between the statue and Shemyaza’s chimeric beasts was unsettling. And although he’d seen his half brother’s fire opal eyes turn fatal black, he knew it wasn’t over.
In the temple’s outer courtyard, straw-coloured dogs with muscular necks lounged against dark wooden doorways. Hunched Gula healers busied themselves capturing drool from their squished snouts into terracotta pots.
Nate slipped through a gatehouse into the inner courtyard where more Gula congregated around a monumental stele inscribed with the ritual of Morning Light. Their low humming murmurs stirred a hint of something ancient. He deviated towards the pillars surrounding the temple and marched under their shaded passageways.
Gabe was waiting outside the domed entrance leading into the vaults. As Nate neared, Gabe ran his hand through shaggy brown hair and screwed up his face. The way he looked right now, it was hard to imagine this seventeen-year-old lad had called down chains of fire from the heavens. Not for his own sake or for the warriors he’d been tasked with leading, but for his sister, Mirah.
Nate had never seen such unconditional love. It was one thing to take up a sword against an opponent you had a chance of defeating but to go up against an undefeatable god and seal him deep in the Abzu, that was something else.
With eyes fixed on the statue, Gabe said, ‘That is the most hideous sculpture I have ever seen.’
Nate glanced at the black-winged statue repelling the sunlight. Its mouth gaped wide beneath large reptilian eyes. Its right hand raised, the other lowered, level with its hip.
‘It’s supposed to scare the spirits away.’
‘I doubt the spirits are as dreadful. Can you get someone to place a cloak over that?’ he asked, pointing towards its protruding phallus.
Gabe led the way, treading with care down steps chiselled into a dormant volcanic steam vent. Since securing Isriq, the War Chiefs and their tribal warriors had taken residence deep in the vaults.
‘Where is my sister?’
‘Mirah is at the crater. She doesn’t like it here.’
Nate didn’t enjoy it here either. The further they descended, the pungent vapour seeping from the walls settled in the unmoving air and clung to his nostrils.
The vaults had no natural light. Underground, the meeting room stank like a rotting womb. On entering, he found Ammo with the sleeve of his frilled shirt covering his nose, and Tur already seated.
‘You remember Tur?’ Gabe asked. ‘I promoted him to War Chief at Chaba Misgab.’
Nate knew enough erudite individuals in Hermonial to recognise beyond Tur’s rugged appearance, a man of culture lay beneath. Tur was heavily armed with daggers and swords. A shadow of bristle covered his face and his keen blue eyes weighed up everything around him. Nate wondered at their similarities and considered who’d be the victor if they ever sparred. Aware Tur was staring, he smiled, only to rein it back when Tur didn’t return the gesture.
He realised Gabe had spoken when Tur’s head tilted to a slight angle. Clever, he judged. So the War Chief wasn’t easily distracted.
With cautious movement, Gabe lowered into a chair. ‘I want to strip them of their titles. Shemyaza and the remaining members of his Puhrum are not gods and never will be. For the sake of clarity, we’ll call them Watchers and their giant hybrid offspring, Nephilim. We’ve destroyed Shargaz and the others will follow. Is that clear?’
It was a smart move. Without their godlike status, men’s spirits should raise. It might even draw more to fight beside them once word spread of Shargaz’s demise.
Gabe’s shoulders twitched from the discomfort of his injury and he repositioned himself. Whatever he’d endured on the battlefield it seemed the flayed boy had risen a man. A man who wanted answers.
‘Nate, give me an update on the city.’
It’s what Nate would have advised. Ammo was the first Acquistioner he’d ever met, how he’d gained his skill, Nate had no clue, but Ammo knew how to lead the forces, nonetheless. He’d even gone up against Bishnor and Shemyaza’s Wielders. The man had balls and Nate’s growing respect.
‘Isriq is back in order. The War Chief with the yellow crossed swords sigil has requested we reinstate his leadership. Apparently, he hails from here. I have questioned the city’s Elders and they are in agreement.’
Gabe glanced at Ammo. ‘What do you think?’
‘Ya need to keep moving.’ He sat forward and traced his finger along a wide crack in the table. ‘If ya don’t put someone in charge, Isriq will descend into chaos. But ya gonna have to split his warriors. Insist only enough remain to guard the city.’
‘All right,’ Gabe agreed. ‘Let the War Chief know I’ll speak with him in the morning.’ Gabe turned his attention to Tur. ‘What is the news from the mines?’
Tur rose and unsheathed a sword. ‘Bladesmiths are forging new swords though they’re not as well crafted as this.’ He placed the sword on the table for all to see. ‘Your second, Zeev, was injured by one of Shargaz’s Fire Wielders. They’re all dead.’
‘All of them?’ Gabe asked.
‘His lover, Neviah took care of it.’
Nate had read in Zeev’s report that he’d taken a blast of fire to his shoulder. He’d downplayed it but Nate still feared the worst. It didn’t surprise him to hear Neviah had taken revenge.
Hefting up the sword, Ammo tested its balance. Before leaving Hermonial, Nate had been Captain of Shemyaza’s Guard. He’d seen swords of similar design so wasn’t as enthused as Ammo but he was impressed that Shargaz’s storehouses held sufficient swords and shields to equip Gabe’s forces.
Ammo unsheathed his sword and switched it for the new one. If Tur thought anything of it, he made no comment. According to Zeev’s report, Tur’s skill in combat excelled above his own. Nate had found that difficult to believe but sitting across from him now, he wasn’t so sure.
Gabe shifted to the edge of his seat as though he was preparing to leave.
Nate asked, ‘With Zeev’s injury, I’d like to escort them from the mines?’
‘As soon as you return, I should have healed enough to leave.’ Gabe tensed his shoulders. He exhaled the pain away and said to Tur, ‘Gather the other War Chiefs. Whilst Nate is absent, prepare everyone for departure.’ He rose. ‘I must rest before another of those damned ceremonies.’
Outside in the temple arena, Tur caught up to him. ‘I’m told you and Shemyaza were close?’
Nate was sick of people’s assumptions. Sick of accusing whispers that he was a spy due to being Shemyaza’s stepson. His features shifted into a hardened scowl and then softened. He’d observed men with focus before but none so resolute and fearless.
He imagined Tur sneaking into Shemyaza’s mountain, a battle-ready warrior, determined to defeat him.
‘I’m going over to the crater. We can talk on the way.’
Waiting until they were far from city dwellers, Nate asked, ‘What happened to you?’
With a face as unreadable as smooth cut stone, Tur replied, ‘Buzur killed my wife. I need to know how many Watchers? What makes them strong and how Gabe defeated Shargaz?’
Nate respected his directness so offered him the same.
‘Gabe tethered Shargaz with fiery chains and sealed him in the Abzu.’
Unfazed and already calculating his next move, Nate understood Tur’s thoughts. He’d wondered the same. How was it possible for a mortal man to achieve such a thing and without such power how would he do the same?
Tur slowed his pace. ‘Is it true Shemyaza is their leader?’
He held Tur’s stare whilst a warrior marched by heading towards the crater. The wait didn’t rattle Tur’s patience and that pleased him.
‘Shemyaza is the most powerful. There are three other Watchers, Buzur, Usemi and Ditallu. For now, they submit to him but I have seen Buzur challenge Shemyaza’s command.’
‘What about the Nephilim?’
The warmth of the dawning sun drifted up his back. He watched his shadow on the barren field crawling closer to the dormant volcano. He longed to meet with Mirah but held his footing steadfast on the muddy ground.
‘They are semi-immortal. Gigantic, nefarious and lethal. Hard to destroy though not impossible but if you kill them their essence… it still lives. Shemyaza resurrects his sons into chimeric beasts. They look like lions with black-tipped quills for a mane, feathered wings and spiked tails. Shargaz had chimera similar to scorpions but they were the size of a horse.’
‘With Shargaz imprisoned what happens to his half immortal sons when we slaughter them?’
Nate shrugged. He’d been wondering the same. They reached the crater and Nate halted. ‘I had a half brother called Bishnor. He was a Nephilim.’
If this surprised Tur, he gave no indication.
‘In the battle, I defeated him but Shemyaza will raise him again. If Shemyaza doesn’t come himself, he will call on his Puhrum. Any of the Watchers or their Nephilim could hunt me or try to capture Mirah for retribution.’
‘You need her protected?’
Nate inhaled a breath more unevenly than he desired. ‘There are too many variables. You command the largest of the war tribes. If you agree, I demand your discretion. Mirah must not sense my concern.’
Tur stilled. ‘Is she your wife?’
She was his wife, his saviour and so much more. He wouldn’t risk explaining Bishnor’s desires or how Shemyaza and the others sought to use her. With Zeev’s attention on Neviah and Gabe’s focus on destroying the Watchers, he was alone. Concerned his voice would betray his fears, he raised his hand revealing the wedding band on his finger.
A flicker of recognition graced Tur’s face. ‘I will do as you ask.’
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