Prologue From Soon to Release: Fallen Tiers

Here is a tidbit from the upcoming novel: Fallen Tiers - Book 5 of The Blue Dragon's Geas

Art by Rebecca Hunt

Jon nodded to the acolyte that took the reins of his lexital.  His robes were gray from the dust of travel and his hair unkempt.  It was not this that drew the eyes of everyone in the stable yard, it was the little black dragon curled tightly around his neck.  The thin whip of a tail looked more like a choker tight against the mage’s throat.

He looked around in amazement.  He knew of this temple, all death mages did.  But, this was more than he had imagined.  It was fashioned similarly to the tiers, the levels though were not as distinct and black spires rose up here and there.  Where Silverport was built of white glistening stone, the temple was represented in black.  Where he stood now was in a courtyard outside the main wall of the temple.

The death mage’s eyes traveled up to see cave openings lining the far off cliff walls.  How many dragons had the High Priestess managed to gather?  If they were all full, it was a concern he would have to relay to Alador.  He cast a clean spell absently as he continued to take in the breath-taking view.

His eyes caught the far off movement of three dragons flying together.  They looped in and out of one another before making some far off diving run.  As they dropped down, he lost sight of them.  Their choreography in flight had been amazing.  He stroked Nightmare’s small muzzle bringing a soft sigh from the hatchling.

Coming soon - The Blackguard - Releasing Prologue

The crack of the whip filled his ears before additional fire lanced across his back. He arched in pain as much as his bindings would allow. His eyes were focused on the flickering flame of the torch that lit the wine cellar.  There were no windows, just three flickering torches casting mocking shadows on the wall.  His eyes stung with the salt of seawater and sweat creating a film in his vision.
The mage focused on the flame once more, trying to recall the reasons he was angry.  His anger increased his powers and if he could flame them high enough, maybe he could find a way out.  The crack sounded and his body arched.  Someone moaned nearby and it took a moment to realize that the sound had come from him.  His entire back felt on fire as the crystal barbed leather left snaking trails of welts and blood.
He forced his thoughts to the lies and betrayals.  So many lies had fallen around him, from his own lips.  Coming to Silverport was supposed to have been a good thing, a chance to grow into power.  The whip cracked again and the pain of the new strike across already welted skin brought a new level of pain and he screamed against the leather in his mouth.  How had he come to be here? How had this happened? The darkness threatening, finally claimed him and he sank into the dark comfort of oblivion.