Wow. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I posted. I am very sorry. My excuse is chemo. It is really kicking my behind. It is the same chemo I had 4 years ago. My first treatment in mid-July went pretty well. My treatment at the end of July left me very sick and tired and with a horrible headache and a fever. My third treatment was a wreck. I had an allergic reaction. Actually 2 different allergic reactions. They ended up stopping one of the chemo drugs. I had that same treatment 10 times with no real trouble but now my body said “Uh-uh. That’s enough of that, thank you very much.” On Friday when I went back to have the chemo pump removed they gave me a Neulasta shot to build up my white blood cells which were very low. And that was a nightmare of bone pain and fatigue that lasted 8 days. Even now I am exhausted. But tomorrow we’re going to try the same chemo again, but very slowly. I will be there ALL day.

OK, that is enough of whining. OMN to Chapter 5 of the Storm King!

Chapter Five

The camp was a military camp, with thousands of small tents laid out in neat rows over what must be a couple of square miles of trampled grass. How big was the Erabiri army? A large herd of horses grazed outside the camp, watched over by more teenaged boys. They stared wide-eyed at Ashley while they took the horses. Ashley walked in a distinctly un-regal waddle beside Jerriel’s uncle into the camp. It hadn’t been a long ride, but her knees still thought there was a horse between them and were reluctant to touch. The other Erabiri accompanied her through the open lanes that divided the tent city into segments, until they came to a small tent beside a much larger one. Most of the tents they passed were rectangular pup tents, big enough for two men to sleep in, but not tall enough for them to stand in. These two tents were square, and high enough for even a tall man to stand up in. Jerriel’s uncle held the flap of the smaller tent open for her.

“Go in and make yourself comfortable,” he urged. “I will have a healer and food brought for you at once.”

“Thanks.”

Ashley was short enough to not have to duck to enter the tent. It was about eight feet square, and the center pole was at least twelve feet tall. The ceiling sloped to a height of about five and a half feet from the ground at the walls. The furnishings looked comfortable enough, for a tent. A narrow bed, two feet away from the center pole was neatly made with a dark blue wool blanket and a fat pillow encased in snowy white linen. A small table was on the other side of the center pole, with two chairs tucked under it. The canvas tarp floor was covered with a thick rug in swirling patterns of red and blue. At the foot of the bed was a wooden chest. Ashley looked around. Compact. Utilitarian. Saved from boring by the rich colors of the rug.

A voice called from outside. “Lady, may we enter?”

“Come in,” she called.

Jerriel’s uncle came in with another man. “Water is being heated so you can bathe, and food will be brought. This is Healer Moskir.”

Moskir was the oldest Erabiri she had seen. His hair, only down to the tops of his shoulders, was iron gray streaked with silver, held back from his face in two narrow braids over each of his ears. The rest hung loose. His brown face was lined, but he was slender and graceful. And bossy.

“Thank you, Lord Bodiel,” he said dismissively. “I will attend the lady.”

Ah. Jerriel’s uncle was Bodiel. At least in public. Unless he wasn’t part of the royal family. He’d said only the royal family had private and public names. Lord Bodiel made a slight bow and left the tent. The healer advanced on Ashley with firm steps. He was in her face before she realized he’d come so close. She backed up until her butt hit the center tent pole.

“Now then, woman, where are you hurt?” His imperious black eyes ran over her with a barely hidden sneer. She was suddenly aware of her torn and filthy dress, limp hair, and blood-stained shoes.

“My elbow. It’s not broken or anything.”

“I am the healer, not you, so don’t diagnose yourself.”

Geez, his bedside manner could use some work. Most of the doctors Ashley had known had been compassionate. Or at least they hadn’t sneered at her. She almost apologized, but he annoyed her. Not that she was actually Jerriel’s wife or anything, but everyone seemed to accept that she was, so shouldn’t this guy be a little more polite to his king’s wife?

At least his hands were gentle when he took her arm and felt along the joint. “Please sit on the table.”

He pulled out a chair and offered a hand to support her while she stepped up and settled on the table.

“I will need to cut the sleeve.” This time Moskir’s sneer was directed at her gown. “I assume you won’t think it a loss?”

Ashley kicked at the hem of the dress, regretting that the lavish embroidery there had been stained by dirt and blood and torn beyond repair. “Not much can be done to save this, so I guess not.”

Although what she would wear after her bath she didn’t know. Putting the filthy dress back on wouldn’t be nice. She watched while he retrieved a pair of bent scissors and used them to cut through the sleeve from the cuff to nearly the shoulder. The sudden freedom from the tight constricting sleeve was almost painful. She drew a shallow breath to force back a moan. The healer looked at the elbow thoroughly. He carefully bent her arm back and forth. He probed the swollen skin. He pursed his lips while he made low humming noises. She peeked at the elbow and winced at the sight of the deep bruise. She must have been suppressing the pain, or at least ignoring it, because now that she had seen her elbow, it hurt.

“Quite a nasty bruise,” Moskir said, almost gently. “I imagine it is painful. I will make you a sling to support it and I will give you a pain deadener. Add half the powder to a full glass of water. You should drink it after you eat, and then rest. Be sure to drink the full glass. Tomorrow morning you can add the remainder to another glass of water and drink it if needed.”

“Okay.”

The healer opened his pouch again and brought out a long narrow bag full of some orange powder. He carefully tipped out about a teaspoon of it into a small paper cone and twisted the wide end closed. He laid it on the table beside her and retrieved a length of sturdy white fabric from his pouch. He made some cuts and knotted it before looping it around Ashley’s arm and over her neck. He made some adjustments to the fit and then nodded.

“Is that the proper angle for comfort?”

Ashley allowed her elbow to rest fully in the sling without trying to hold the weight herself. “I think it is perfect.”

“Excellent,” he said and offered a hand to help her down from the table. “Remember, half of the pain deadener tonight, and half tomorrow morning. I will come again tomorrow night to check on you.”

“How much do I owe you,” she asked, wondering how she could possibly pay him. Other than this filthy rag of a dress she owned nothing.

For the first time he smiled. “I am employed by the king. Payment is not necessary.”

“Oh, well. Thank you very much.”

He inclined his head, picked up his pouch and left the tent. A moment later a voice called from outside.

“It is I, Danior, with your supper and bathwater. May we enter?”

“Sure.”

Danior turned out to be Lord Bodiel’s son. He led a procession of teenaged boys. One carried a large collapsible tub and got it set up next to the bed. Another half dozen boys paraded in carrying buckets of steaming water they dumped into the tub. Another boy carried a tray with a plate and a ceramic jug which he placed on the small table. Danior laid a towel and washcloth over the back of one of the chairs and put a fist-sized linen bag on the table.

The boys bowed and left, leaving Danior behind. The teenager extended a lean brown hand like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “Soap, towels and food. Is there anything else you need, lady?”

Ashley looked down at the once-ivory dress. “I need something to put on after my bath.”

Danior’s creamy brown cheeks flushed. Oh dear, was that a risqué thing to say? “M-my cousin the king brought clothing for you,” he managed to say with only a brief break to treble in his voice. He waved at the chest at the foot of the bed. “All that is in there is yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, lady. The king brought all this for you. The tent, the clothes, and other things.”

Wow. “Then I guess that’s all I need.”

He bowed. “Just call when you are ready for the bath to be removed.”

The poor kid sped out of the tent like he was afraid she would attack him. Curious, she went over to the chest and opened it to reveal a blaze of color. She blinked. The Erabiri men wore black, brown and gray. None had worn vivid colors. Mindful of her dirty fingers, she went to the tub and washed them. Then she cautiously picked up garments made of brick red, emerald green, sunny yellow, and sky blue. The top layer was knee-length tunics of wool or cotton cut in the front and back from the hem to almost the waist. Some of the collars stood up like a mandarin collar, made stiff by thick embroidery. Others were boat-necked or scoop necked. She counted six of them. Beneath them were four pairs of loose trousers in sturdier fabrics like heavy linen. They were also darker in color, like purplish-brown, dark red, and navy blue.

Beneath those was a dress. It was gorgeous, made of heavy silk brocade in shades of fiery red and orange. Ashley stood and held it up against herself. The hem, stiffened by a broad band of gold metallic embroidery, hit her just above the ankle. The loose sleeves were three quarter length, ending in a wide bell edged with the same embroidery. It was dress fit for a princess, similar to what she’d seen queens wearing in Byzantine mosaics. She refolded it carefully.

At the bottom of chest were light, airy shirts made of white and cream gauze. There were large rectangles of more of the gauze, also white or cream. Veils? There were thicker strips of fabric that must be cut on the bias because they had a lot of stretch for a woven fabric. Like an ankle wrap bandage. Ashley searched her memory for the tidbits she’d learned in her history of fashion class. Leg wraps? No, too wide. It dawned on her what it must be. The ancient world’s version of a bra. She would have to wrap the strips around her chest to keep her boobs from bouncing around. Ashley didn’t want to be boastful, but she had a lot of boobage to bounce. If she did any more riding, and she figured she would, she would need something to hold the girls steady.

She found six pairs of socks that looked handknit of undyed wool. Also, several pairs of loose, light weight shorts. She stared at them, trying to figure out why she had shorts. It came to her, with a spurt of giggles, that they must be underwear. Like boxer shorts.
At the bottom of the chest there was a pair of brown leather ankle boots and a pair of dark green leather shoes. They looked like they would fit pretty well. Which was good, because these silk slipper-shoes were trashed.

She almost missed the two wooden boxes fastened to the lid of the chest. One wooden box held a carved bone comb, a brush, and a small hand mirror. Another small wooden box held an odd little brush and a waved linen bag full of powder that smelled like black licorice. A toothbrush and toothpaste?

She sat back on her heels, staring at the contents of the chest strewn about. Six tunics. Four pairs of pants. Underwear and toiletries. Had Jerriel picked out these things himself, or had he ordered his palace seamstress to pack a chest full of clothes for his ‘wife’? Either way, he had brought these clothes and toiletries for her, and the tent. He had planned for her to come here. Pretty arrogant of him, considering that she could have been killed or raped by his army.

Disturbed by that thought, she put the comb and mirror on the table and picked up one of the cream shirts. It wasn’t quite transparent. Maybe in the sun it would be, but it would work for inside the tent.

It wasn’t until she was carefully undressing that she realized that though the ivory silk dress was unfamiliar she was wearing her own bra and panties. Geez, if I was going to keep my own underwear, why couldn’t they be the nice ones? Nonetheless, those washed-so-often-they-were-gray Fruit of the Looms were precious keepsakes now. All they needed was a trip through the washer and dryer. Who would do laundry? She wondered. That kid, Danior? If just mentioning her clothing made him blush, washing her undies would probably finish him off. With a shrug, she stripped her bras and panties off, tossed them in the tub, and climbed in herself.

The water was heavenly warm. The soap in the paper packet was made of little pellets with a floral scent. Maybe a cross between roses and lilacs. It lathered nicely in the washcloth. The tub was too small to stretch out in, but she wanted to luxuriate in the incredible comfort of warm water. But she wasn’t sure when Jerriel would come and she didn’t want to be caught in the tub, so she hurried to wash as thoroughly as she could while being careful not to bang her left elbow against the side of the tub. Hair washing was tricky, and she had only the soap flakes, but it worked well enough as shampoo. It also worked as laundry soap. She scrubbed her underwear as well as she could before wringing them out and laying them over the edge of the tub.

She dried herself and wrapped her hair in the towel before putting on the shirt and a pair of the boxers. She looked for a good place to hang her undies to dry and finally settled on draping them over the back of one chair.

The supper was pretty tasty, if not as hot as it had been before her bath. Beef stew with big chunks of carrots and another vegetable she couldn’t identify. In fact, the meat might not have been beef. It was slightly gamey. Maybe deer? The bread was crusty on the outside and light and fluffy inside. Plain army rations, but she was probably eating better than anyone else from the Thessian city. She swallowed and set down the spoon. Maya was out there somewhere, probably with nothing to eat at all.

Jerriel had to come soon so she could get him to go find Maya.

But he didn’t come. Ashley tried on a pair of pants and put a tunic over the shirt and then opened the tent flap a few inches to see if anyone could take the bath out. There were two full grown Erabiri warriors outside, one on either side of the door to the tent. They called for Danior to come, and those same boys came in and carried the bath and the supper tray out. Ashley hid a smile at the way one of the boys frowned over the underwear draped over the back of one chair. She could almost imagine him trying to decide what they were. She knew when he figured it out by his fiery blush. They left the jug of water and cup.  She asked Danior, who hadn’t noticed the undies, if Jerriel had come yet, but he said no, it would probably be a few hours.

With nothing to do in the tent, she finally mixed up the pain reliever and made herself gulp it down. She combed her hair before putting the sling back on. She re-folded the clothes and put them in the trunk. The once-ivory dress lay in a pitiful crumple beside the bed. She picked it up and tried to fold it neatly, but it was a lost cause. She rolled it up in a bundle and put it on top of the chest. Then, with nothing else to do, she sat at the table, twiddling her thumbs. Literally. Ashley couldn’t remember the last time she had sat with nothing to do. No studying, no reading, no cleaning waited for her. She didn’t have even her phone to play on.

What had happened to her backpack and laptop? Were they lost somewhere in Grimstaborg? Or were they lying abandoned by the fountain on campus? Ashley cradled her arm in its sling against her chest. She and Maya had disappeared in front of dozens of people in a busy part of campus. Maya said it was like the concrete had crumbled from beneath their feet and down they fell into this world. Ashley glanced up and then shook her head. What had she expected to see? There was no gaping hole up there leading back to her real life. There hadn’t been back in Grimstaborg either. What about their jeans and shirts? How was it that she still had her underwear, but her outer clothing had changed? Trying to figure it out would drive her mad.

When they fell through the concrete, had anyone tried to catch them? There had been dozens of people in the Quadrangle. Those four girls who had been sitting at the fountain had been close enough to catch them. Ashley tried to remember if any of them had tried. Had they even noticed? Someone must have noticed two grown women disappear.

Oh, gosh, had her parents been notified that their daughter had disappeared into thin air? Her dad and his second wife lived in Colorado, but her mom was only a hundred miles away from the university. She must be completely freaked out. Geez, her mom had already gone through so much with her only child’s leukemia, and even if none of it was Ashley’s fault, she still felt guilty.

There was literally nothing she could do about it right now. Ashley laid her cheek on the table and closed her eyes as tears threatened. She needed to get to Maya. Her best friend was a genius. With her brilliant scientist’s brain, she would figure out a way for them to get back. She had to. They could not stay here. Jerriel … This wasn’t the Jerriel she’d invented. He wasn’t tender or sweet in any way. If he would help her find Maya she would be grateful, but as soon as Maya was found she wanted to be as far away from him and his bloody sword as possible. Home would be far enough. Ashley wanted to be home with an intensity that made her heart ache.

Surrendering, she wept, as quietly as she could, until her nose was completely clogged and her head ached. She wanted a tissue in the worst way, but there was nothing like that, so she opened the chest and dug out a veil to use on her nose.

The tent grew dim and cold as she waited for Jerriel, so she took off the sling and the tunic and laid down on the bed in the pants and shirt.  Goosebumps from the chill prickled her arms, so she pulled the lusciously soft blanket up to her chin. She expected the narrow bed to be uncomfortable, but it was perfect. Not too hard, and not too soft. Ashley tried to stay awake. Really, she did, because she needed to talk to Jerriel about Maya as soon as possible. But exhaustion drowned even her anxiety and sleep pulled her under.

Jerriel POV

***

It was long past sunset when King Rodir rode to camp, chest tight with the weariness and exultation that warred within him. Woven through those was a silver thread so fine and strong it nearly cut him. Love. Hope.

Valdis.

He gave his horse to one of the herd boys and lifted a hand in farewell to his guards before walking through the camp to the tent that was his. Beside it was the tent he had brought for this night. He had lovingly gathered the contents, wanting his promised wife to be as comfortable as a war camp allowed. It and its furnishings had traveled, unused, from the Royal City and had been erected just this morning to house the only good and beautiful thing the conquered city boasted. Valdis. The silver thread pulled tight around his heart, drawing him toward the small tent.

Two of his own personal bodyguard stood on either side of the door flap. None but men he trusted utterly would be allowed near her. Jerriel made himself stand still. Her tent was dark. She must be sleeping. No need to interrupt her rest. In any case, what welcome would she give him if he came to her covered in the blood of her countrymen? He nodded to the guards and went into his own tent to bathe.

He passed through the outer room to his private quarters and his young cousin Danior appeared, sleepy-eyed, to pour water into the basin. Jerriel shucked his breastplate and vambraces while Danior knelt and unfastened his greaves. His cousin gathered the stained armor to carry away but paused.

Jerriel raised one eyebrow in inquiry.

“The lady,” Danior said carefully. “She wept tonight.”

Jerriel nodded and stripped off his battle-stained pants and shirt. Danior added those to his pile and left.

Clean, dressed in fresh clothing, Jerriel stood in the outer room of his tent, staring unseeing at the map on the conference table. His enemies were dead, all but the chief among them who was now his slave, the city that spawned them was in ruins, and his promised wife was only yards away, safe and secure beneath the canopy of his protection. Tonight, he should be celebrating. Instead, he stood alone in the dim light of an oil lamp and resisted the pull of the silver thread toward his bride. The bride who had been treated like an enemy prisoner and forced to witness his judgement. Those things he had not intended. She had wept? Of course, she had. His Valdis had a tender heart.

Why not go to her? He needn’t wake her to satisfy his yearning to look upon her. He picked up the lamp, turned it low so its light was the merest glow, and carried it the few yards to her tent.

“She sleeps?” he murmured to Jadziel.

“I believe so, Lord King.”

He nodded and passed through the flap. The light was low, but it was enough to see her form under the blankets on the bed. She was from a people who felt the cold more than the Erabiri did, so he had chosen those blankets with his grandmother’s help, wanting the finest for the wife he had waited ten years for. He stood for a moment to let that settle in his heart. The woman he had sworn himself to ten years ago was here, in his camp, protected by his own bodyguards, in the tent he had brought for her. The silver thread eased, and he was able to take a whole breath for the first time in days.

He set the lamp on the table and turned one of the folding camp chairs so he could sit and drink her in. Her hair was still brown, shorter than he remembered it being ten years ago, her face longer and thinner than he remembered, the plump roundness of her teenaged face gone. Her eyes were closed now, but this morning he had seen their beautiful gold color…

His teeth clenched. Her eyes had been filled with shock and horror. She held her shoulders straight, but her proud posture couldn’t hide the terror and horror she’d felt. Jerriel folded his arms over his chest. She had feared him. And, he remembered, she had denied she was his wife. Before his council and his guards, she had tried to refuse him. For ten years he had hoarded her love in his heart, planning for the day when he could rescue her and take her home to be his bride and queen. While she had…what? Forgotten him?

He would never hate her, could never harm her, but the pain of her rejection hurt him far more than a blade through his gut ever could. As he tried to make sense of it, her eyelashes quivered.

***

Hello! I hope everyone is doing well. My chemo is being a bit more challenging than it was back in 2020, but it’s still going well. I finished chemo #2 of 6 last Friday and #3 is coming up on 8/7/24. August sounds so far away, but it’s really only a couple of days. Where is the summer going? It’s been hot and I think it will stay hot for another week. Then it will get just warm. How has the weather been for you?

Here is Chapter 4 of the Storm King:

Chapter Four

“Yes, Valdis.” His face didn’t change. No smile. No happiness. He looked over her head, maybe at the guards. “Why are these women here? Why is my wife among the criminals?”

There was a shuffling behind her. “Majesty, we were instructed to detain any woman we saw with brown hair.”

Jerriel’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing more about that. He pointed his sword at the baker’s wife. “You should sacrifice in thanksgiving. I do not make war on women, so you may go.” He pointed the sword at Ilsa and the other woman in turn. “And you, and you, may leave. Leave the city before it burns. I give you your lives.”

Ashley watched them scramble away, half-wishing she could go with them. Except this was Jerriel, the tender prince who had told her—No, not her, Valdis—that he would come back for her one day. And she needed him to find Maya.

He extended a hand to her. “Get up, wife. You are not a slave to crouch on the floor like a dog.”

Wife? Is he talking to me? There was nothing loving in his voice or his face. “Wait,” she began. “I’m not …” Her voice got stuck, apparently undecided over which thing to address first: the word wife or the name Valdis. “I’m not your wife.”

His eyes, as cold as black ice, narrowed. He reached down, grabbed her by the arm—her good arm, thank goodness—and hauled her up. “Have you married another man?”

She swallowed hard. “No.”

“Good.” It was something between a snarl and growl. “Stand at my side.” He sat back down in his throne and laid his naked sword across his knees.

The older man inclined his head to her and moved to the other side of the throne, displacing the teenager. He indicated the spot he had stood in. Ashley hesitated, looking at the other four Erabiri who stood in a semi-circle behind the throne. They ranged in age from mid-thirties to early twenties. None of them had any expression on their faces, but she got the impression that one of them, who wore two rows of heavy gold chains around his neck, didn’t like her.

“Jerriel, I—”

“Be silent, wife.”

Ashley nearly cowered at his harsh tone. But Maya was out there somewhere. “This is important,” she bravely insisted. “Really, really important.”

The king turned his head and looked up at her with a cold, set face. “Not now. We will have time to talk later when my business here is done.” A tiny sliver of warmth came into those icy black eyes and his voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “We have much to discuss. But that will be later when we can be private, wife.”

Why does he keep calling me ‘wife’? Ashley swallowed and nodded. “As soon as possible, please.”

He gave her one curt nod in return and gestured to the guards, who hurried down to bring another prisoner to him.

Ashley had a clear view of the older man on Jerriel’s other side, since they were both half a step back from the throne. Who was he? Not Jerriel’s father or Jerriel wouldn’t be king. The approach of another prisoner caught her attention. This man wore very expensive clothes, but he looked like a rat with his long pointy nose and buck teeth. He was trembling but trying to hide it with arrogance. Ashley’s heart stuttered. She remembered Lord Ulsak’s arrogance and his head thudding on the marble floor. As the guards forced the man to his knees she swallowed.

“Your name,” Jerriel demanded coldly.

“Lorn Galseth.”

“In what way are you connected to the slave trade?”

The rat faced man tilted his head up and sniffed. “In no way.”

Jerriel leaned forward. “Liar,” he said in conversational tones. “You are the head of the slave guild.”

Galseth’s eyes darted from side to side, probably looking for an escape. “It’s a respectable trade. Many people in financial difficulties—”

Jerriel stood. “It is a filthy trade. You’ve made a fortune out of other people’s misery. I find you guilty.”

“Of what?”

“Whatever I choose.”

Galseth demanded shrilly, “And who are you to decide that?”

“I am Rodir of Erabir, your judge and executioner.”

The sword flashed, and the rat face disappeared as the head turned before slowly toppling. Ashley slapped her hands to her mouth, trying desperately to gulp in a breath. Seeing the executions from fifty yards away had been bad. Seeing them from only ten feet away was horrifying. She felt herself sway and leaned one hip against the throne to keep from falling over. She couldn’t seem to breathe properly.

Jerriel wiped his sword clean and sat while some other men carried the body out and disposed of the head in a bulging bag. From what she could see of his face, he didn’t seem pleased or angry or anything at all. The boy she’d invented had been full of rage against the people who had enslaved him but impotent to do anything about it. What had she written? The boy prince had told Valdis that one day he would get back to his people and when he did, he would have revenge on the Thessians who had debased the heir of the King of Erabir. He would stamp out the slave trade and punish those who had hurt him. But never, he’d promised quickly, would she be hurt. He would protect her always. He would bring her back to Erabir where she would be loaded with honors and made his wife.

And here he was. The imaginary friend she had invented to make her time in hospitals and treatment rooms pass more quickly was real and fulfilling his promise to have his revenge. He called her ‘wife’. He thought she was Valdis, but Valdis was another made-up character.

How could any of this be happening?           

A new voice brought her back to the present. Another prisoner knelt below the throne. The side view of Jerriel’s face showed her an actual emotion. Fierce hate and satisfaction. He leaned forward to speak to the man.

“Do you know me?” he purred.

“No, Your Majesty,” the man managed to say though his lips were trembling, and tears filled his eyes.

“I know you, Emris Baker,” Jerriel said. “Look more closely. Are you sure you do not know me?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Emris Baker cried. “How could I?”

If Jerriel had beheaded men who’d had almost no direct impact on his slavery, Ashley didn’t want to imagine what he would do to his former master. In her story Valdis had often seen Jerriel’s bony back bloody from a whip. She had carefully cleaned his wounds so they wouldn’t get infected, and each time Jerriel had sworn vengeance on his master. The very thought made Ashley moan.

“You idiot,” she said. “You—”

Jerriel’s voice cut like the lash of a whip. “Be silent, wife!”

Ashley shut her mouth.

“I suppose,” Jerriel went on in a cool voice to the baker kneeling below him, “you never thought of me.”

Emris Baker’s lips shook when he wet them. “I, that is, no. Why would I? You are a king, and I am no one.”

“No one. Nobody.” Jerriel leaned back in his seat. “So you thought me, once.”

Jerriel’s former master looked so confused that Ashley almost felt sorry for him. He raised his clasped hands toward Jerriel with pleading. “Please, Majesty, let me go. I am no one of importance.”

“You are important to me, Emris Baker.”

Ashley couldn’t suppress a shudder at the frighteningly gentle tone Jerriel used.

“For ten years I have planned for this moment. I mobilized my army and destroyed cities just for this moment.” The gentleness morphed into razor-edged venom. “All I have done for the last ten years was just so I could have justice from you.”

“Me?” moaned the baker. “Your Majesty, I don’t know you! I swear, I have done nothing!””

Oh, the fool, the fool. Ashley now saw what the prisoners had had in common. They were all connected with the slave trade. Some, like the secretary, had been set free. Others, like Galseth, had been executed. Did Baker honestly not guess that Jerriel was the skinny Erabiri boy he’d bought and abused?

“Let me refresh your memory. You called me Nobody. Sometimes Boy or Filth. You beat me when I failed whatever task you set me, and you beat me when I succeeded.” One of Jerriel’s shoulders twitched as if remembering the lash. Ashley saw his knuckles go white from the grip he had on the sword across his knees.

Emris Baker burst into tears and blubbering pleas for mercy. “Please, my lord. Please!” he begged. “Don’t k-k-kill me.”

Now Jerriel leaned forward. “You ask me to spare your life?”

Ashley shuddered at Jerriel’s tone. He had cold-bloodedly executed men more wealthy, more influential, and far less directly responsible for his enslavement. Emris would be lucky if he died as quickly as those men had.

“Yes, please, I beg you! Let me live. I am nobody!”

Ashley was half a step behind the throne so she couldn’t see the whole of Jerriel’s face, but what she could see of the smile that curved his lips made her knees knock.

“You are Nobody,” he agreed. “You will be my slave for the rest of your life. You will live for as long as I choose for you to live. Begging me to kill you will not end your suffering.”

Ashley swallowed heavily. This Jerriel was not the sweet slave boy from her story. She tried to breathe calmly, like Maya would have told her to do, but her breath went faster and faster until she felt light-headed. I’m hyperventilating, she thought dimly. This is not the right time or place to have hysterics. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get herself under control.

Jerriel turned his head slightly to the older man on his left. “Uncle, will you and your son take my wife back to camp?”

The older man bowed. “Our honor.”

Jerriel’s head turned in Ashley’s direction. “You are overwrought, wife. This has no doubt been a difficult time for you. Go, eat and rest. I will join you as soon as I am able.”

“Okay,” Ashley managed to say, though it came out as four or five syllables instead of two. She tried to steady her voice. “We’re still going to talk, right?”

Jerriel inclined his head.

She hissed in a pained breath when the older man touched her elbow. Quick concern flashed on his face. “Lady, you are injured.”

“A little,” she said shakily.

Jerriel stood up and faced them. There was a tiny hint of concern in the line between his brows. His gaze slid over her, pausing on her obviously swollen elbow. He looked past her at the men behind her on the stage. Something vicious shone in his black eyes for a split second before he looked back at her. He touched his fingertips to her cheek for a fleeting moment. His eyes changed to something so tender that Ashley stopped breathing. Miraculously, her breathing started up again, and when it did it was smoother.

“Call a healer for her as soon as you are in camp, uncle,” he said. Apparently dismissing them, he stepped away and sat again.

“Come, lady,” Jerriel’s uncle said. “Son, run ahead and prepare the horses.”

The youngest of the men behind the throne bobbed his head and hopped off the side of the stage. After a quick bow in Jerriel’s direction, he swung wide around Emris Baker still kneeling in front of Jerriel and ran out the main doors. Jerriel’s uncle stepped off the stage also on the side and held his hands up to Ashley.

“Allow me to help you down.”

Going down the steps in front would be easier, but Emris Baker was there. Ashley wasn’t too keen to get between him and Jerriel. “Thank you.”

He picked her up by the waist and easily lowered her to the floor. He bowed to the throne, so Ashley bobbed an awkward curtsey. She’d never curtseyed before, and she probably did it wrong, but Jerriel didn’t even look their way. His attention was once more on Emris Baker. She followed Jerriel’s uncle out of the building. An agonized shriek rose from behind them, and Ashley wondered shakily what Jerriel had done to Emris. No, she did not want to know.

The young warrior was approaching, leading three horses with tall saddles. There was no saddle horn, and no smooth rise like on an English saddle. These had high backs and fronts. I guess I get to ride on my own, Ashley thought. She hadn’t been on a horse since the last time she’d stayed with her grandparents on their farm in Indiana. She’d been thirteen then, a couple of years before her ALL diagnosis. The young man was probably not much older than thirteen. He gave her a shy smile and blushed as he cupped his hands for her to step into so he could help her into the saddle. He probably looked a lot like Jerriel had at that age, only more muscular since he’d had nutritious meals all his life while Jerriel had been half starved by the Bakers, and his black hair hung in a ponytail to his waist instead of being shaved to his scalp.

The saddle was actually comfortable. The back and front supported her so she didn’t feel like she would fall off. As they rode through the city, more warriors joined them. Guards to prevent me escaping? Or to protect me? They were stern-faced and silent, riding beside and behind her. Jerriel’s uncle was in the lead and the kid was with him. The stone wall that encircled the city was battered, and the gate was broken. It made Ashley think of her senior thesis on siege warfare. But that thought was fleeting because just as they passed through the gates of the city, she saw a cluster of blond people a few hundred yards away on the road.

Maya! Ashley awkwardly pulled her horse around and kicked him into a run. Well, she tried to get him to run, but the warriors smoothly cut her off. She glared at them. “Get out of the way!”

Jerriel’s uncle caught her reins. “Lady, our camp is to the south.”

“Yeah, I get it. I just want to see if my friend is with them. It’ll just take a minute.”

“No, lady. You must see a healer and then rest.”

“I will,” she agreed impatiently. “I just need to find Maya.”

His face set in stubborn lines. “The king commanded that I bring you to our camp where you can be cared for. Please do not make me use force.”

Ashley’s mouth fell open. I guess that answers the question of why the other warriors joined us. She raised her voice to a scream. “Maya? Maya! Are you there?”

Blond heads turned back toward her, but the group didn’t stop. In fact, they hurried faster down the road in a bid to get away from us. “Maya!” she screamed once more, but even as she yelled, she knew Maya wasn’t part of that group. She would have stopped and come toward her if she had been there. Disappointment drove tears to Ashley’s eyes, but she sniffed them back.

“Okay,” she grumbled. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you, lady.”

Ashley’s group went the opposite direction, away from the blond people. Instead of riding ahead, Jerriel’s uncle waved a couple of the other men forward and stayed at her side. The guy really did seem to be relieved. He must really not want to use force on his nephew’s wife. If that was really what she was. Maybe Jerriel picked a wife from every city he conquered. Maybe he had a harem. If Ashley had been walking, the horror sliding down her spine would have frozen her in mid-step. The horse just kept going. From her history studies she knew it was common for conquerors to take local wives from the cities they won. It formed an alliance that helped subdue the local population.

But that couldn’t be what Jerriel was doing. He still wore the pearl pendant she—that is, Valdis had given him. She let out a long breath.

Jerriel’s uncle peered at her with concern. “Lady, are you well?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Just wondering. How many wives does Jerriel have?”

Shock wiped his face blank. “Only one, lady. You.”

Ashley rearranged her grip on the reins. “But I don’t understand how I can be married to him. I haven’t seen him since we were kids.”

Or, you know, like, ever.

“You offered him the bridal pledge then. He accepted it.”

Ashley looked away from the horse’s ears and blinked at Jerriel’s uncle. “What bridal … You mean the necklace?”

“Yes, that is the traditional pledge.”

Yikes. Her fictional heroine had given a make-believe necklace to a fictional hero, and wham bam thank you ma’am, she was married to him. Or was that Ashley? Ashley was married to him. Her gaping mouth clacked shut as her horse shied slightly. Once upon a time, her life had been completely out of her hands. Leukemia had decided just about everything, from her appetite to her hairstyle to whether or not she would wake up the next morning. Writing stories that she was in charge of made her feel like she was in control of something. It looked like that was all make-believe too. Ashley wanted to lay her forehead on the high cantle of the saddle and weep.

“Lady, if I may make a suggestion?”

She swallowed and nodded at the older man.

“You should not publicly address your husband as Jerriel. When you are alone with him, or speaking with those close to him, you may call him Jerriel. But that is a personal name, not meant for public usage.”

Seriously? Ashley glanced up at him, wondering what his name was, but she’d never heard it, and now she wondered if she ever would. Jerriel called him ‘uncle’. He called his son ‘son’. He called her ‘lady’ as Jerriel had called her ‘wife’ almost exclusively. There must be some taboo about using names. Another thought struck her.

“I heard the king was named Rodir. Is that a ‘public’ name?”

“Yes, exactly. Those in the Erabiri royal family are given two names at birth, one to be used by family and close friends when private, and one for others.”

There had been a time when Americans had been more formal, addressing others as Mr. Cox or Mrs. Hayes until they knew each other well. She supposed this was like that. She perked up a little. She had two names also: Ashley and Valdis.

Except she wasn’t Valdis. She had to convince Jerriel of that and find Maya and somehow get home. No, not Jerriel. King Rodir. Oh, boy. Too bad she didn’t have the vaguest idea how to do any of those things.

Hello! I hope everyone is having a nice week. Mine has been good. I did my labs yesterday and saw my oncologist today. He said he is pleased with my blood work and chemo will go ahead tomorrow. I am excited because I ordered a new mattress and had it shipped to a friend’s house. It arrived today and he will bring it over on Saturday. I am sooooo looking forward to it!

Here is the Tuesday teaser, Chapter 3 of the Storm King. Just for kicks, here is an image that I think looks like Jerriel.

The Storm King: Chapter Three

^{copyright Maddy Barone 2024}

Ashley jolted to her feet, groaning at the pain in her elbow. The sleeve was painfully tight around the swollen flesh of her arm. The early morning light gleamed weakly on the blond hair Maya shook back away from her face. They both looked blearily at the Erabiri who had opened the gate. One man, older than the others, stood on a nearby rock and shouted at all of them in the pen.

“Wake up, Thessian filth! I am Faldon, son of Ottil, and I speak in the voice of Rodir, King of Erabir. Your city has fallen to our hand. Your lord surrendered to us last night.”

One of the men Ashley and Maya had spoken with last night glanced at Ashley and called back, “Where is Lord Grimst?”

Faldon, son of Ottil, sneered. “Don’t worry about him. You have enough to worry about for yourself.”

“Why?” the man asked but was drowned out when Faldon continued.

“All of you, form a line. One by one approach the gate.”

The Thessians muttered and murmured, apparently not moving fast enough for Faldon. He bellowed, “Move!”

More Erabiri men came into the corral, all wearing swords, but carrying whips in their hands. “Form a line,” one of those said. “Anyone who hangs back will get a lash. Move it!”

Maya and Ashley exchanged a look and shuffled to join the back of the winding line. Not everyone moved quickly enough. One man screamed when the whip whistled through the air and cracked against his back.

“Shut up, filth,” the Erabir told him. “You can dole out lashes but not take one? Slaves are whipped, and if you are lucky, that is what you will be. Move!”

Ashley clutched at Maya’s arm. “Slaves?” she gasped.

Maya patted her shoulder. “Hang in there. It’ll be okay. You just need to find Jerriel.”

“Right,” Ashley muttered, scrutinizing every Erabiri she could see. Would she even recognize him? How long had it been since she—er, Valdis—had helped him escape? He had been fifteen then, and Valdis had been sixteen. If time moved the same here as it had in their world, then he would be twenty-four. But who knew if time moved at the same pace? And most of these men looked like they were in their twenties. We’re pinning all our hope on the fact that Jerriel will recognize me and help us, Ashley thought, trying push the feeling of hopelessness back. But what if he doesn’t? Her heart pounded so hard at that thought she worried she would puke. An even worse thought occurred to her. What if Jerriel doesn’t actually exist?

The line shuffled slowly toward the open gate. As each person reached the gate the Erabiri man posted there spoke to them, and then searched for something on a roll of paper he held. Ashley craned her head to see what happened next. The Thessian was waved through the gate and joined a cluster of people guarded by more Erabiri.

Someone in the line asked one of the warriors what was happening. He used a very polite tone, so the warrior only snarled instead of using the whip.

“You’ll see the King. He will decide your fate.”

Maya and Ashley gradually made their way up to the front of the line. “Name?” the Erabiri warrior demanded of me.

Ashley hesitated. “Ashley Johnson.”

Maya corrected her. “Valdis Grimst.”

The warrior frowned suspiciously. “Which is it?”

Ashley hoped this was the right thing to do. “Valdis,” she admitted cautiously.

He ran a finger down the writing on the papers in his hand. His finger stopped with a stabbing motion. He jerked his chin to the group of Thessians surrounded by Erabiri on his right. “Go there and wait.” He turned to Maya. “Name?”

“Maya Scholl.”

He looked at her tangled blond hair for a moment before perusing the paper in his hand. He turned the page over and read it again. “Not on the list,” he grunted before waving another man over. “Tarriel, take her to the evacuees.”

“Wait,” she said. “I want to stay with Ash—Valdis.”

“No, you don’t, sweetheart.” His smile almost looked sympathetic. “You really don’t. You have a better chance with the ones the King is allowing to leave.”

“Maya?” Ashley began, but the other man had grabbed Maya’s arm in a punishing grip and forced her away. “Maya!”

“I don’t want to leave,” Maya shouted as she struggled to get free. “Let me go!”

Tarriel grabbed her by the throat and shook her. “You can go, or you can die.”

Ashley had trouble breathing, but no one was choking her. “Maya, don’t worry, I’ll find you later, okay? Once I talk to J—”

The first man shoved Ashley. “Get over there with the others!”

She watched in horror as Maya was dragged away, kicking and screaming. She’d heard that phrase before, ‘kicking and screaming’, but this was literal. This couldn’t be happening. This nightmare had gone on long enough. She wanted to wake up right now. She pinched herself hard enough to bruise. Nothing changed. Why was she still here?

Another warrior came to Ashley and raised his whip. “Move, woman!” he snarled.

Helpless to do anything else, Ashley scurried toward the Thessians to the right of the gate.

She tried to watch Maya as she was taken away, but she couldn’t see her, and soon she couldn’t hear her either. Maya’s supportive presence had been the only reason she hadn’t freaked completely out. Now what would she do?

Maya would tell her to calm down. She’d ask, How do you walk a thousand miles? One step at a time. Okay, Ashley told herself, you can do this. First step: find Jerriel. Yes, she had to find Jerriel. She sidled cautiously up to one of the Erabiri guards. “Excuse me,” she said as politely as she could. “Some years ago, I knew an Erabiri boy named Jerriel.”

He looked down at her out of hard, nearly black eyes outlined in kohl. She remembered writing that Jerriel’s eyes looked like black ink except when he was in the sun, when his irises were barely perceptible as dark, dark brown. “That’s why you are here.”

“It is?” Relief made her wilt. Jerriel was real, and he was here. “Where is he?”

“You’ll see him soon enough.”

“Today?”

“Before noon,” he confirmed. The dark amusement in his voice confused her. But the important thing was that she would soon see Jerriel. Relief loosened the muscles in Ashley’s shoulders. Jerriel would straighten this mess out and help her find Maya.

Nearly two hours later, the unwieldy group of prisoners was marched through the city. Grimstaborg was oddly empty. Other than some corpses which the group had to detour around Ashley saw nobody except more Erabiri warriors who joined the group. Ashley purposely avoided looking at the dead. She couldn’t do anything for them, and if she thought about them too much, she would lose it. She was barely hanging onto her calm as it was.

An hour of walking in her thin silk shoes gave Ashley blisters on her heels and bruises on her arches and brought them to a large rectangular stone building that looked like a cathedral. The doors halfway down the long side were large and ornately carved. There were colored glass windows nearer to the roof than the ground.

The guards directed the prisoners to the back and through a small door. It looked like a cathedral from the inside too. It was a large open room about forty or fifty yards long by twenty yards wide, with a high ceiling painted with what Ashley thought might be gods and goddesses. The floor was large squares of white marble alternating with dark red squares in a checkerboard pattern. It was an empty space punctuated only by marble columns supporting the ceiling.

Ashley tried to remember if she had written about the Thessian religion but couldn’t recall anything. At the far end of the room was a low stage, like where an altar would be in a Christian church. At the front of the stage was a large, ornate chair. Maybe not a chair. It was more like a throne, like what a cardinal or bishop might sit in during mass at home. No one sat in the chair, but six Erabiri stood around it. The men and the chair were too far away for Ashley to see them clearly, and the light from the windows was dim, so she couldn’t tell if one was Jerriel.

Her hands fisted. What if she couldn’t recognize him? She tried to remember how she’d described the character. Handsome, of course. Large eyes of gleaming, liquid black under straight black brows. Black hair shaved in a slave’s stubble. A mouth with a curved lower lip that softened only for Valdis. Teeth white against the tanned skin of his face. Long-legged and lean. He’d held himself proudly erect in spite of the bruises from the beatings he received from his master, Emris Baker. Except for the hair, that described just about every Erabiri man she’d seen.

More Erabiri came in through the large main doors halfway down the room, kitty-corner from the dais. They lined up in front of the dais, five on either side of the two steps that led up to the stage. They unsheathed their swords and held them vertically in front of their bodies. An honor guard? A moment later two more men entered. Both were tall and slender, wearing black pants, black shirts, and black boots. Both wore swords at their hips. Their hair was long and black, twisted into heavy braids that hung down the center of their backs, but one had wide silver streaks through his black braid, indicating he was older. The other’s braid fell past his waist like a thick black rope.

The older man must be King Rodir. Was the other one Jerriel? Jerriel had been a prince, so he must be Rodir’s son. Right? Ashley’s heart rate picked up. How long would it take for a shaved head to grow thirty inches of hair? She squinted to see better, but the light was dim, and they were too far away for her to see clearly. They walked together to the stage and mounted the two steps. Without looking at the group of prisoners clustered in the back of the church, the younger one sat in the chair. The older man stood close beside him.

Which was the king? Ashley would expect the king to sit in the chair, and the lesser ranked man to stand. The one in the chair turned toward the back of the church and made a come here gesture. Two of the guards selected one of the prisoners, the secretary Ashley and Maya had spoken to last night, and escorted him to the stage. This took some time since it was half as long as a football field. It gave Ashley plenty of time to worry about what would happen. She dug her fingernails into her thigh, wishing Maya was here. Where was she now? Ashley needed to find her. But she had to find Jerriel first. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Running up to the front screaming Jerriel’s name was probably not a good idea. She took another deep breath, resolved to wait.

The guards made the secretary kneel on the marble floor in front of the chair, bowed, and walked back to prisoners clustered together in the back of the room.

The man in the chair leaned forward and spoke to the secretary. Ashley couldn’t hear what he said. They conversed for about a minute, then the secretary stood up and bowed. The older man on the stage said loudly, “Behold, the mercy of King Rodir of Erabir!”

 The secretary bowed again and went to the main doors and left. A little stir went through the other prisoners. Relief?

So, if the guy in the chair was King Rodir, then he wasn’t Jerriel. The older man was too old to be Jerriel. Ashley plucked at the sleeve of her dress, scanning the other men on the stage, looking for Jerriel. One looked young. Like, teenager young. Too young for Jerriel. Where was he? she wailed to herself. The relief the other prisoners must have felt passed Ashley by, leaving her stomach in one big knot.

Another prisoner was selected, this time Lord Ulsak. He marched up the marble floor with his head held arrogantly high. When he reached the stage, he didn’t bow or kneel until one of the guards kicked the back of his knee. Then he went sprawling on hands and knees. Ashley almost giggled. Not because it was funny. No, it was hysteria threatening to overflow.

The man in the chair leaned forward and spoke quietly. Lord Ulsak replied. Ashley couldn’t see his face or hear his words, but the angle of his head was haughty. Not the kind of attitude she would take with the king who had just conquered her city.

The king stood up, drawing his sword. He went down one step. The sword gleamed silver as it swept down, then shone red when it came back up. Ashley stared in numb incomprehension as Lord Ulsak’s head fell with a meaty thump.

She had to get out of here before she puked. A quick glance at the door they’d come through sent her heart plummeting to drown in her roiling stomach. The doorway was packed with Erabiri warriors, and another quick glance told her the prisoners were surrounded by more. It looked like there was at least one warrior for each Thessian. The other prisoners must have seen the same thing because she heard a low moan go through them. She swallowed and looked back to the front.

The King was wiping his blade on a piece of cloth. He handed the dirty cloth to the teenager and sat again with the bare blade across his knees. Two Erabiri were carrying Lord Ulsak’s body out while another placed the head in a bag. Don’t puke, don’t cry, don’t try to run away, Ashley chanted to herself. Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke. A stray remembrance of a story she had read for her senior thesis popped into her head. After a successful siege the conquering king had beheaded the ring leaders of the defense. She shook her head. The words she read had not seemed so grisly. Not like seeing it in person.

Two of the guards separated one of prisoners, a man Ashley didn’t know, and herded him up to the stage. He dropped to his knees in front of the steps with his head bowed. He might have been trembling, but Ashley couldn’t tell. She would have been shaking like a leaf. In fact, she was shaking like a leaf.

This time, the older man announced the king’s mercy and the man left by the main doors. Another was brought before him and had his head removed. It went on like that for a while. Some were released; more were beheaded.

Ashley watched it all with the numbness of disbelief. This was a nightmare, not real. She needed Maya. She needed to find Jerriel. I need to wake up at home, she silently screamed, where I could tell Maya all about it and watch her shake her head over my overactive imagination.

The group of prisoners was smaller than it had been an hour ago. The king never looked toward the diminishing group at the back of the church. He looked bored. Of course, maybe it was only the distance that made his face look unmoved.

That changed when Ilsa, the woman she and Maya had met last night, was moved up to kneel before the stage. The king looked at her from his throne and his face showed some emotion that Ashley couldn’t interpret.

“A woman?” he said, loudly enough for Ashley to decipher his words. “I don’t make war on women.”

Ha, thought Ashley. Tell that to the women who were raped.

One of the prisoners’ guards bowed and spoke quietly to the king. A flash of something—Rage? Fear?—crossed the king’s face as he half-stood to stare at the prisoners. Ashley was too far away to tell. He gestured violently toward the back of the church.

The older man bellowed. “All females come forward!”

Ashley froze in place, really, really not wanting to get close to the king and his sword. Her earlier fantasy of running up to the front calling Jerriel’s name had died long before. The guards gave none of the women a choice. Ashley found herself between the baker’s wife and a woman she didn’t know being walked reluctantly up the room to the stage. She kept her eyes down, too afraid to look at the king.

When they got to the steps, she dropped to her knees before any of the guards could force her down. The other women, including Ilsa, were also on their knees. Ilsa was crying softly. Terror made Ashley focus on the black-booted feet of the king. He had stood from his throne and come down one step. Ashley took a deep breath. I’m not a sheep to go to the slaughter without a fight, she told herself fiercely. It would be more believable if she wasn’t shaking so hard. I have to somehow scrounge up enough guts to ask about Jerriel. Maya needs me. She licked her lips, trying to force them to stop trembling, put her shoulders back, and looked up.

Way up. The king was young, maybe her own age, and handsome with fierce eyes under a slash of straight black brows staring straight at her. Those eyes, as black as the kohl that outlined them, sent a shudder down her spine. His cheekbones were high, and his mouth looked almost too soft for his hard face. His black shirt was unlaced at the throat, showing a portion of his smooth chest. In the V of brown skin lay a teardrop pearl pendant suspended from a gold chain around his neck. Ashley’s breath stopped as she blinked at the pendant. Unconsciously, her hand crept to her own pearl pendant, a perfect match to his. Of course, the necklace she’d worn habitually since she was sixteen was gone, like her real clothes.

Her head swam and only her outstretched hand kept her face from hitting the marble step in front of her. “Jerriel?” she squeaked.

We’re halfway through July! I know I am in the minority here, but I do not like hot weather. For me, summer is like a little taste of hell. But it will end in a few months and then I can go back to complaining about the cold and snow. 😉

I started chemo last week. I had the port put back in on Wednesday, then had chemo on Thursday, and came home with the infusion pump until Saturday. It was so strange going to the hospital on Saturday. It was a ghost town. But the nurse let me in and unhooked old Homer (the chemo infusion pump) and I got to go home. My side effects have been fairly mild. My next chemo treatment is next Wednesday.

It is Tuesday so that means it is time for another Tuesday Teaser from The Storm King. Enjoy!

The Storm King- Chapter Two

^{copyright Maddy Barone 2024}

A man behind Ashley shouted, “She has brown hair!”

The sword in the hand of the horseman she faced was raised for a killing blow. She cringed, closing her eyes as she waited for death. A long moment passed before she let her shoulders drop a bit and opened her eyes a crack. The sword was lowered, held across the horseman’s chest. His eyes were narrowed in a glare. She noticed for the first time that he wore eyeliner. Or would that be kohl, like the ancient Egyptians had worn? Minus the long line extending past the outer corner of the eye. Get a grip, Ashley. Why are you noticing such a stupid detail at a time like this?

“Fine,” he growled, put a booted heel into his horse’s side, and cantered away.

Ashley pivoted to watch him go, and ended up beside Maya, transferring her stare to the other men. Some of them had dismounted and were closing in on them. All of them had their eyes outlined with black. It should have made them look ridiculous. It didn’t. One pointed to Maya.

“That one has yellow hair,” he said and laughed. “Lie down and spread your legs, girl, and I’ll let you live.”

Maya grabbed Ashley’s wrist again and the two of them bolted back down the alley. It did no good, though. They hadn’t gone more than a couple of yards before the man caught Maya by the hair and threw her to the ground. Yanked off balance, Ashley fell with her. The smack of her bad elbow against the hard ground jerked a scream out of her. She kicked at him desperately as he fumbled at the waistband of his pants. He pushed Ashley away with careless strength and knelt over her friend. Maya crab-walked away from him on her elbows and heels. He caught her by an ankle and wrenched her back.

 A shadow fell over Ashley. “Jarir!” another man barked. “Leave them alone. There are plenty of other women. These two should go to the holding pens.”

Maya’s attacker stilled with an ugly scowl. “The brown-haired one can go. That’s what the King wants. But the blonde is fair game. Go away, Jadon.”

Jadon slapped the back of Jarir’s head. “They are together. Get out of here. Go find another blonde. You won’t have any trouble. There’s nothing but blond-haired women here.”

Jarir got up with a growl and stalked away, fastening his pants. Jadon watched him with a frown for a moment before turning back to the women. Ashley leaned away from the long, suntanned hand he extended to her. He ignored that, grabbed her good arm, and yanked her to her feet.

His face wasn’t exactly kind, but at least he wasn’t unbuttoning his pants when he barked, “Come with me.”

“Where?” Maya demanded.

Jadon eyed Maya before answering. “There is a place where you will be safe. I will take you there and make sure you are not molested.”

Ashley wasn’t sure she believed him, but five or six other men had crowded around them in the narrow alley, so she didn’t think they had a choice. She shook his hand off and clutched Maya’s arm. Maya latched onto Ashley’s good arm and lifted her chin at Jadon.

Jadon nodded to one of the men. “Nodir, you take the blonde on your horse. I’ll take the brown-haired woman.”

Getting on the horse was hard with a long skirt tangling her legs and her bad elbow shrieking in pain, but Ashley managed to get settled behind Jadon. As they rode through the town she stared at the city, trying to figure out where they were. There were no cars, no traffic lights, no power lines, and no glass windows in the buildings. The buildings were made of timber, brick, and plaster, and none was taller than two stories. The roads were packed earth or gravel. She craned her head around to see Maya, but all Ashley could see was the very top of her head and a flutter of blue skirt behind the horseman.

Ashley didn’t want to, but she made herself look at the people they passed. The men on horseback were lean, with long, dark hair worn in a ponytail at the nape of their necks or a long braid down their backs. They wore heavy cloth pants and tough-looking leather armor over their bare chests and shoulders. Their lower arms were encased in metal studded leather vambraces and they wore heavy leather boots to the knee. Everyone else, mostly dead on the ground or moaning in pain from ghastly wounds, had blond hair. The men’s hair was trimmed short and the women’s was long. Their clothing was similar to what Ashley had seen in woodcuts and illustrations of medieval peasants. Men wore baggy trousers and tunics. Of course, it was hard to tell, really, considering how mangled they were, but Ashley assumed the blond people were native to this town and the horsemen were invaders.

If this wasn’t a dream—and the pain in her arm made her doubt it was—then had she and Maya traveled back in time? To when? And where? Ashley scoured her memory, trying to match the setting and the clothing to a particular place or time. The dark-haired horsemen weren’t Asian, so not Genghis Khan and the Mongols. They didn’t wear facial hair, so maybe Native Americans? No. Indians hadn’t worn leather armor. They weren’t Vikings. The blond natives could be Scandinavian or maybe Germanic. Ashley shook her head. This was crazy. The sword warriors spoke English. Modern English, not Middle English.

None of this made any sense!

Ashley’s poor brain hurt almost as badly as her elbow by the time they came to an open area. There was a wooden fenced ring in the middle of it, like a large horse corral. It was full of blond people, mostly men, but she saw a few women there, and they, surprisingly, had dark blond or light brown hair. That had to mean something. The long-haired men had pointed out her brown hair. But what did it mean?

When Jadon jabbed an elbow into Ashley’s side, she toppled out of the saddle and landed heavily on her good arm. A thud nearby and a choked off swear word from Maya told Ashley she was on the ground too.

“Kadzmil!” shouted Jadon. “Two more prisoners for the King.”

Ashley scrambled to her feet while a huge hulk of a man hurried up to them. His nose had been broken at some time in the past, but what made him ugly was his expression. He reached out and grabbed a hank of Ashley’s hair.

“Brown,” he sneered. “Darkest brown I’ve seen in this cesspit of a town.”

His hair was inky black, and no longer than Ashley’s own shoulder blade length locks. He pulled her closer by the hair. “We’ll see what the King wants with something like you.”

The pain in her scalp rivaled the pain in her elbow. “Let me go.”

He spat, narrowly missing her foot in its dainty silk shoe. The shoe, like the rest of her, was the worse for wear. He grabbed Maya by the arm and dragged both the women to a gate in the corral held open by a teenage boy. “Get inside,” he snarled and shoved them through the gate. Before Ashley even fell to her knees, the gate slammed shut.

Maya hadn’t fallen. She leaned down and gently helped Ashley to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Ashley looked around the corral. There must have been fifty people there, most staring at them. She noticed that their clothing had subtle differences. The cut and shapes of the tunics and trousers were the same, but the fabrics and decoration were different. Some were dressed in fine fabrics in bright hues with heavy embroidery around the cuffs, necklines, and hems of their tunics, and others were dressed in plainer garb with no embroidery. Ashley had seen this same thing in medieval and Renaissance paintings. A prince or duke would wear extravagant clothing made of satin, velvet or brocade heavily embellished with gold and gems, and the well-to-do merchants would wear similar clothing, but with less elaborate decoration, and even the peasants’ garb was similar, but made of coarser wool and linen and lacking the embroidery. Unlike at home, where a millionaire might wear the same jeans and T-shirt as a college student, these people shouted their station in life by what they wore.

A middle-aged woman in a plain brown dress came to them. Her hair was dishwater blond, almost brown, wrapped around her head in a messy braid. Distress showed in her wrinkled forehead and her hands wringing her apron.

“Oh, Lady Valdis,” she moaned. “They’ve brought you here? This is terrible.”

Valdis? Ashley shot a wild glance at Maya before turning back to the woman. “Do you know me?”

The woman’s face colored as she dropped a bobbing curtsey. “Oh, no, milady. Please forgive me if I am speaking out of turn. I’m only a baker’s wife. My husband’s bakery sometimes provided bread for your servants. So, you see, I know of you, of course.”

“You called me Lady Valdis?”

The woman’s hands wrung her apron even tighter. “Yes, milady.”

“You think I’m Valdis?” Ashley asked again, jerking a thumb toward her chest, needing to be absolutely sure.

“You are Lady Valdis Grimst, daughter of the Lieutenant Governor of New Thess.” The woman lowered her voice. “Are you trying to keep it a secret?”

Ashley’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Like from your story?” Maya hissed.

“It’s a weird coincidence,” Ashley hissed back, trying to subdue the hysteria clawing its way up her throat.

But was it? The horsemen could be the Erabiri army. But that was crazy. “Where are we exactly?” she asked the woman.

She gave me a confused look. “This is the lower green, where the farmers at the south end of town graze their cows. Those monsters set up this pen to keep us in like cattle.”

That explained the smell of manure. “No, I mean what town is this?”

Her look went from mildly confused to horrified. She took a small step back. “This is Grimstaborg, milady.” Her tone said Duh.

Ashley wondered if there had been a town named Grimstaborg in her story. She didn’t think so. “Not New Thess City?” she asked cautiously.

“No, milady. The capital is three days north by wagon.” The woman took another wary step back and bobbed another curtsey. “I’ll get back to my husband now. Emris needs me.”

She bolted, casting one quick glance over her shoulder at Ashley. Great, Ashley groaned to herself. She probably thinks I’m crazy. Ashley fisted her hands in the thin silk of her dress. She might not be wrong.

The name the woman had called her husband popped into Ashley’s mind. Emris? Emris Baker was a character in her story. He had been Jerriel’s owner and had whipped the foreign slave-prince if he wasted any flour or didn’t sell all the bread. That was how Valdis had first met Jerriel. He had hauled a cart of bread to the governor’s mansion. The woman had said she was a baker’s wife. Ashley shook her head in denial. What a very odd coincidence. It was just a coincidence, right?

She turned to Maya to ask her what she thought but was interrupted. A man dressed in fine clothes bowed in front of her. He was probably around forty years old. “My lady, perhaps you do not remember me. Lord Ulsak Blenhiem, first minister of your father’s privy council. I am sorry to see you here.”

“Me, too,” Ashley muttered.

Lord Ulsak—definitely not a character from her story– turned to Maya and bowed again, a little less deeply. “Miss Maya. Why did those savages bring you here?”

Maya didn’t seem to wonder why the man knew her name. “Supposedly, there is a king that wants brown haired women. Does that make any sense to you?”

He shook his head. “Indeed, it does not.”

Ashley asked, “What king is this? Is his name Jerriel?”

“No, madam.” The nobleman’s face showed a touch of the same wariness the baker’s wife had shown. “King Rodir rules the grasslands and mountains to the south and west of New Thess.”

“But what’s the name of the country?”

The line between Lord Ulsak’s pale brows deepened. “Erabir, my lady. Are you ill?” he added quickly.

Maya grabbed Ashley by the shoulder. Ashley tried to blink tears back. “I’m going to barf,” she said.

“Hang in there,” Maya said bracingly. “This king must be Jerriel’s dad, right? What was his name?”

Ashley tried to think. “I don’t think I gave him a name. Hey, um, Lord Ulsak, what do you know about this King Rodir? How old is he? How long has this war been going on? I mean, is it a war? Or was this just a surprise attack?”

Ulsak blinked at her. “My lady, the savages have been conquering the colony bit by bit for the past five years. Each year, they have taken more and more towns and cities in the colony.” He spoke slowly, as if she were a kid who wasn’t too smart. “Surely you are aware of this.”

“New Thess is a colony of the Thessian Empire, right?” she said. “Why doesn’t the emperor send his army to defend the colony?”

Now the nobleman shook his head sadly. “The war over the succession has diverted most of the army. The Emperor cannot spare any troops to defend a distant colony. My lady, I know politics and wars aren’t suitable topics for ladies, but surely, even women are aware of what is going on in the world.”

“It’s been a difficult day,” Maya said grimly.

Biggest understatement ever. Ashley swiped the back of her dirty hand under her eyes. “I don’t know what is going on.”

“Of course, of course.” He looked around. “I wish I had a chair to offer you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Maya took hold of Ashley’s upper arm with a maniacally bright smile. “We’re just going to go over there and lean against the fence rail in the shade.”

They pushed through the people in the corral. Most of them were injured, some were angry, and some seemed too dazed to care about anything. The shade cast by the single tree was already full of people, but Maya bullied her way through until they got to the fence.

“How is your elbow?” she asked.

Ashley straightened it and bent it a few times. “Sore. But nothing is broken.”

Maya cautiously lifted it. “Your sleeve is too tight to roll up and get a good look, but I think it’s swollen.”

“No kidding.” Ashley could feel how the fabric of the sleeve compressed her arm. “Yeah. What are the chances of getting some ice for it?”

Maya gave her a look.

“Right.” Ashley leaned against the rail. “Now what?”

Maya lifted helpless hands. “We wait?”

“I never should have wished to meet Jerriel,” Ashley groaned.

Maya settled her back against the post beside her. “Well, it’s kind of exciting to get to live in one of your stories.”

Ashley gave her an incredulous stare. “Exciting? People are dying! Being raped! And do you think being in this pen is good for us? Why are we here?”

Maya looked away. “All good points. But if this is New Thess and Erabir, then you can find Jerriel. Everyone thinks you are Valdis from your story, so Jerriel will take care of you. And you can take care of me.”

“If that is really what this is.” Panic clutched at her throat. “Are we sharing some weird dream? How do we get back home?”

Maya shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a dream, and I don’t know how to get back home. Find a wishing well and throw in some coins?”

Ashley drew in a shuddering breath. “Do you really think that is what happened?”

“I can’t think what else it could be.” Her gaze wandered to the tree arching above them. “It’s fall,” she said with surprise.

The leaves on the tree were gold and orange. The cloudless sky was deep blue, but the air had a chill. “Great. I missed summer.” Panic climbed up Ashley’s throat again. “This isn’t fair!”

Maya gave her shoulder a little shake. “Calm down. Just breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

She worked on breathing. Air in, air out. I’m twenty-five, not five, she told herself. Throwing myself to the ground and screaming wouldn’t change anything. But it was sure tempting. Three men and a woman were talking nearby. To distract herself, Ashley focused on their conversation.

“We should have surrendered,” the woman said bitterly. “Everyone knows what happened to Grenspan last summer. This Storm King offered them an alliance, just like he offered us. They didn’t take it, and now that whole town is ashes. We didn’t take his offer either, so what do you think will happen here?”

“Ilsa, hush. It wouldn’t be an alliance of equals. We would have had to pay annual tribute and give up hostages to those barbarians. We would be barely more than slaves, like Herzborg.”

“We’d be alive, at least,” the woman argued. “I heard not one building was burnt, no houses were looted, and no women were raped in Herzborg. They accepted the alliance, and they are living in peace to this day. We won’t be so lucky.”

“We couldn’t surrender,” another man protested. “We are Thessians.”

“We’re idiots,” the woman countered. “Or our governor and his council are. Every summer the Storm King and his army conquer towns and cities on their way north. They must have known Grimstaborg was next.”

Another man spoke defensively. “Rodir and his savages are no match for our garrison!”

The third man shook his head. “Ilsa is right. The Erabiri started this march to take the north five years ago, and they haven’t lost a single battle. Our garrison hasn’t seen action in years. They were unprepared for this attack. And we are paying the price.”

“Nonsense!” That was the first man, chin at an arrogant tilt and voice pompous. “The battle for this city isn’t over yet.”

“It is for us,” the woman said. “Do you truly think the Storm King will be defeated this time?”

She had dark blond hair, much like the baker’s wife. Not quite brown, but darker than most. Ashley wondered why King Rodir wanted brown-haired women. She had brown hair. In the story, Valdis had brown hair. Did that have something to do with it? Probably not. The men here were all blond as far as she could see. Some men appeared to be wealthy. Some looked like they could be merchants or craftsmen with enough income to buy nice clothes, if not quite as fancy as what Lord Ulsak wore. Others must be laborers or poor men. Their clothing was well worn and ragged. So what, she wondered, did all these people have in common?

Maya approached the little group. “Excuse me. Why do you call him the Storm King?”

“He’s a force of nature,” the woman responded. “He can’t be stopped any more than a thunderstorm can be stopped.”

“We will stop him,” the first man said stoutly. “Just wait.”

Maya looked from him to the half a dozen Erabiri who were walking around the enclosure. Guards, Ashley realized with stupid surprise. She hadn’t even thought of escaping. Why would she? They were safe here, safer than they would be out in the city where women were being raped and men were being killed. Of course, the question of why they were here and what would happen to them made her doubt their long-term safety.

Maya gave the guy a pitying smile. “Right. Do you know that when I was being hauled through the city to this pen I didn’t see a single Thessian man in uniform? Not alive, anyway.”

He reddened and took a threatening step toward her. She lifted her nose with a bored expression.

“Hey, hey.” It was the man who had agreed with the woman. “We’re all on the same side, here.”

Maya looked at him. “Why are we here, do you think?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, Lady Valdis is here probably because her father is the Lieutenant Governor. Lord Ulsak is the head of the council. They make sense, I guess. But I am just a secretary to Lorn Galseth at the Traders Guild. I have no idea why I am here.”

Lorn Galseth was a name Ashley recognized. He was the man in charge of the slave trade in New Thess City. Or he had been in her story.

He added grimly, “I guess we’ll find out, eventually.”

But when? Night fell, and no one was given food or blankets. Ashley was hungry and cold, her arm ached, and she was scared. Was it crazy to pin all their hopes on finding Jerriel? How old was he now? Unbelievably, her stupid wish at the fountain had started all this. She didn’t know what was going to happen. If it wasn’t for Maya being with her, Ashley would have been a basket case. Well, more of a basket case.

The two women curled up together for warmth on the trampled grass. “Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow back home,” Ashley suggested hopefully.

But in the morning, they woke up cold and stiff and hungry in the same corral, with a dozen Erabiri warriors screaming at them.

Hello and Happy Tuesday. My cancer is back and has spread to both lungs, so I am struggling a little. Tomorrow I am having the port back in and on Thursday I start chemo again. I REFUSE to just give up, so my goal for 2024 is to finish The Storm King. It is a fantasy romance about a woman from our time (a cancer survivor who as a teen wrote fantasy romance. Not me). What happens when she is transported from modern day Midwestern America to the very fantasy world she created? The teenaged prince she invented is real, but he’s not a teenager any more and he’s bent on conquering his enemies and punishing them for what they did to him when he was a teenager. Too bad our transplanted heroine is one of those enemies.

So to keep myself on track and get this story finished I plan to post a chapter or a portion of a chapter on Tuesdays. This has not been edited, so you may find some goofs and typos. Please excuse them and enjoy!

The Storm King

_{copyright Maddy Barone 2024}

Chapter One

She was so close. After way too many years, she was almost done with school. Ashley let out a breath and closed her laptop before looking across the table at her best friend and roommate. “Maya, I am finally going to get my degree.”   

The sound of the coffee grinder at the other end of the coffee shop almost drowned out her words, but Maya looked over the top of her own laptop and smiled. “Yeah, you are. It’s been a long, hard road, but you are almost there, and you’ve fought like heck for it.” She gave Ashley a big grin. “After everything you’ve gone through, you deserve it.”

Tears stung Ashley’s eyes. It had been a long, hard road. She hadn’t graduated from high school until she was nineteen, hadn’t started university until she was twenty, and now would be getting her B.A. at twenty-five. At the same age, Maya was working on her doctorate.

“I’m a little old to be getting my first degree.”

Her best friend sniffed. “Ashley, you’re not old. There’s a woman in one of my classes who must be pushing sixty. I think you are amazing. Consider what you went through. A lot of people would never have gotten this far.”

Ashley glanced away, pretending to check out the coffee shop. She didn’t want to think about what she went through. Keeping up with schoolwork after being diagnosed with ALL—Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia—at fifteen had been impossible. Her normal had gone from giggling with Maya about nail polish, hairstyles, and boys to chemotherapy infusions, baldness, and bone-crushing pain. Then after a year in remission, it came back, and the treatment started all over again.

Maya pointed a finger at her, its perfectly rounded nail painted a glaring purple. “I know what you are thinking. But that is done. You beat cancer. Twice. And you’ve been cancer free for over five years. You look great.”

Ashley snorted. She looked better than she had five years ago. The weight she’d lost during her fight with leukemia was back. Sadly, it had all taken up residence in her midsection. She glanced down at her belly, mostly hidden below the table, with a sigh. At her 5-3 height, she was not exactly built like a model, and although her legs were long and slim her torso was barrel-shaped. An overweight apple, that was her.

Maya, on the other hand, was a tall blonde with sky-blue eyes and a slender, hourglass figure. Some people looked at her and saw only a pretty face and perfect figure, but she was more than that. Maya was brilliant. She was getting a Ph.D. in chemistry. Dummies didn’t get doctorates in chemistry.

Ashley sighed. Maya was beautiful enough to be a model and brilliant besides. If she wasn’t the best friend ever, Ashley would have hated her. But at fifteen, when most girls spent an hour every morning getting their hair ready for school, Ashley’s hair had fallen out in clumps from chemo. Maya had shaved her beautiful blond hair off in a show of solidarity. Best. Friend. Ever, Ashley told herself now, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger

“See?” Maya pointed at Ashley again. “Your hair is back, and it’s thicker than before. Glossy and shiny like polished walnut.”

Ashley flicked the lock of hair back over her shoulder. Her hair was medium brown, boring brown, and she usually wore it in a high ponytail that brushed her back a few inches below her shoulders. She lifted an eyebrow at her best friend. “Polished walnut?” she scoffed. “What am I? A sideboard?”

 Maya tilted her head consideringly. “No, more of a side table. A Victorian side table, all elegant curves and shiny polished carvings. You know.”

Ashley blew a raspberry. “Short and squat?”

Maya gave her a chiding look and closed her laptop. “You are pretty, and strong, and intelligent, and about to earn your bachelor’s degree. Ready for that last final?”  

“Yep.” Ashley unplugged her laptop, wrapped the cord around it, and shoved it into her backpack. A couple of history textbooks followed. She slugged back the dregs of her coffee and stood, pulling the bag over her arms and settling the familiar weight on her back. “You walking back to campus?”

“Yeah.” Maya also packed her laptop away. “I need to get back to the lab. I’ll walk with you as far as the fountain in the quadrangle.”

The two women left the coffee shop and walked the five blocks to campus. Spring in the Midwest was pretty. It sucked for people who had allergies, but luckily, neither of them did. Lawns were green, the sky was blue, the air was warm and sweetly scented from flowering bushes and trees that lined the boulevards. Ashley loved spring. She loved seeing the world come back to life after a long, cold winter. She let the scents of spring soothe her senses as their walk took them past a row of frat houses.

“Hmph. It is finals week, but the frat boys are on full display,” grumbled Maya. “And I do mean on full display.”

That was another of Ashley’s favorite parts of spring. She found a certain guilty pleasure in viewing the college boys on ‘full display’, as Maya put it, with sweat gleaming on their chests as they tossed a football back and forth

“They’re not on full display,” Ashley protested innocently. “They’re wearing shorts.”

Ashley tried to be discreet while ogling the young men playing touch football in their front yards. Of course Maya noticed. She made a choking noise. Or maybe it was a snort.

 “Hey,” Ashley said defensively. “I have some catching up to do when it comes to men.”

Maya smirked. “You like the eye candy?”

Ashley opened her eyes exaggeratedly wide. “Don’t you?”

Maya flicked a dismissive glance at the men. “I bet their IQs are smaller than the circumference of their thighs.”

“Ouch.”

“Besides, they’re too young.”

Ashley sniffed. “I’m only looking.”

“But you like them young, don’t you? I remember that fanfic you used to write.”

Ashley covered her face with one hand. “Honestly, do you have to bring that up? I was a teenager. Of course, my heroes were young. Back then I thought twenty-five was middle-aged.”

Maya laughed. “I’m just teasing. It was good. You always had the best stories on that fanfic site. Your imagination is incredible.”

It was her imagination that had gotten her through the long hours of chemo and hospital stays. She’d made up stories of warrior princes who loved their brides with fierce tenderness and knights in shining armor who rescued captive princesses. It kept her mind in a better place. But that was a long time ago. Nowadays she was too busy with school to make up stories. She waved a dismissive hand.

“No, really,” Maya insisted. “You made up entire worlds and cultures. Remember that one about the desert prince of Erabir who’d been captured and made a slave to his enemies the Thessians, and how the daughter of the Thessian governor helped him escape? It was good. I wish you had finished it.”

Ashley remembered that story fondly. It had been a favorite, but Maya was right: she hadn’t finished it. That was when the bone marrow transplant had taken over her life. Then, when she’d felt better, she’d devoted herself to catching up with schoolwork. “Maybe I’ll get back to that someday.” Remembering how the teenaged desert prince forced into slavery had sworn to love his rescuer forever made her smile. “I really did like Jerriel and Valdis.”

“Oh, yeah.” Maya fanned herself. “When the girl snuck Prince Jerriel out of town so he could get back home and she gave him her pearl necklace to remember her by? And he promised to come back and make her his princess? Swoon worthy. It only needed some hot sex to be perfect.”

Ashley touched the teardrop pearl pendant suspended from a gold chain around her neck. It had been a present from her mom and dad on her sixteenth birthday. She’d used it as a model for the one Valdis had given Jerriel in the story.

“Hot sex? Jerriel was only fourteen when he was captured and only sixteen when Valdis set him free,” she protested. “And they kissed good-bye.”

Maya flicked a dismissive finger. “You really ought to finish it. Make them older, like over eighteen. Then open the bedroom door and shine the spotlight on the bed.”

Ashley cleared her throat. “Maybe Jerriel won’t be able to wait until they get to the bed.”

“Whoo-hoo! I like it!” Maya crowed. “Now you’re talking! You have to finish that story. You’re a good writer. It makes me wonder why you decided to go for a history degree instead of creative writing.”

“Because what kind of job would I get with that degree? Besides, a history degree is more flexible. I am going on to get my master’s in library science.”

Maya tossed her a grin. “At least then you won’t be telling me about every siege in medieval history.”

Ashley stuck her tongue out. “Siege warfare is fascinating. You loved every minute of listening to me practice for my senior thesis.”

Maya made a gagging sound. Ashley laughed, too excited at the idea of being done with her undergraduate degree to be offended by the teasing.

They crossed into campus and walked along the concrete path that led to the Quadrangle near the north side of the center of campus. Ahead was the fountain, set in a sunken area dotted with benches currently filled with students taking a break between classes and finals.

Ashley recognized the four girls sitting on the edge of the fountain because they were in some of her history classes. Alex, Terri, Shelley, and Miriam were all involved in some medieval recreation group and always had interesting comments and questions in class. They were tossing coins into the fountain and laughing. School superstition said the fountain was magic and if you dropped a penny into it before a final you would get a better grade. Ashley had studied hard and felt good about her knowledge, but she dug her wallet out of her backpack and found a couple of coins.

“Seriously?” huffed Maya, following her to the rim of the fountain.

“Shut up. What can it hurt?” Ashley smiled at the four girls who shifted to make room at the fountain before sticking her chin out at Maya. “Besides, the money goes to Cancer-Free Kids. It’s a great charity.”

“Well, at least make a wish.”

“Fine, bossy lady.” Ashley closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face contrasting with the cool spray of water. “I wish for a good grade and a great future.”

“And love,” Maya interjected.

She gave her best friend a sidelong glare. “And I want to meet Prince Jerriel of Erabir and live happily ever after.”

She tossed the coins in and turned to Maya. “Happy?”

“You should have wished a Jerriel for me too.”

“You have a wallet. Make your own wish.” She hoisted her backpack further up her shoulder. “See you at home tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll get ice cream and we’ll celebrate. Good luck!”

“Thanks. See you later.”

She’d barely begun turning to go to her very last final exam when someone bumped into her so hard she stumbled and fell. Her elbow connected with the edge of the fountain in a sickening flash of pain. The sound of it hitting was a metallic clang, which made no sense, since the fountain wasn’t metal. She heard Maya scream her name. But as the pavement rushed toward her, everything flickered to black.

******

“Ash? Ash! Ashley Marie Johnson, you wake up right now!”

Aside from the pain radiating from her elbow, the first thing Ashley noticed was how cold the air was. The second thing was that the scent of flowering bushes was gone, replaced by a nauseating stench. She pushed herself off the pavement with her good arm. The pain radiating from her elbow made her cup her other hand around it. Crap! she moaned to herself. It isn’t broken, is it?

“My final,” she groaned. “I’m going to be late.”

“What final?” Maya said in an odd voice. Ashley had never heard that tone from her. Snark, happiness, excitement, sarcasm, and sadness, yes. But this flat numbness barely covering hysteria? Maya didn’t do hysteria. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” she said with a quaver rippling through the flatness of her tone.

Ashley looked up at that. Her heart stopped in confused shock. The fountain was gone. The fresh air and sunshine were gone. Maya crouched beside her on a packed earth surface between two brick walls spaced about four feet apart. The buildings were tall enough to block most of the sun. An alley? It was filthy. There was garbage strewn all about. When she swallowed it felt like a razorblade was stuck in her throat.

“Where are we?” she demanded wildly. “How did we get here? How long was I out?”

Maya’s lush mouth was set in a flat line. “We got here only a minute ago. It’s like the concrete at the fountain collapsed under us and we fell through to … here.” She waved a hand to indicate here. “Wherever this is. We landed out there.” Another hand wave indicated somewhere past the mouth of the alley. “Since I didn’t want to get my head cut off by one of those madmen with swords, I pulled you back here.”

Madmen. Swords? Ashley stared at Maya, mouth open. The thundering noise she’d had barely noticed registered now. Horses’ hooves pounding on stone, women’s screams, men’s shouts, and the clang of metal on metal all mixed into a terrible cacophony that made no sense. She got to her knees to move closer to the mouth of the alley, and that was when she noticed she wasn’t wearing the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt she’d put on that morning. She was wearing a long dress, like something from medieval England. It was high-necked and tight-sleeved, made of ivory silk with green embroidery at the wrists. The skirt was voluminous. Maya was wearing a similar getup but in pale blue wool.

Ashley grabbed a fistful of skirt. “What is this?” she moaned.

“No clue,” said Maya. “We had cloth on our heads, too, like veils, but I left them out there.”

‘Out there’ was past the alley. It was too much to try to figure out right now. One thing at a time, Ashley told herself. First of all, figure out where you are.  She crawled a few feet, still holding her hurt elbow against her chest, toward the mouth of the alley. The ivory dress that tangled her legs must have been beautiful once, but now it was trashed. Another thing to worry about later.

It was much brighter here at the edge of the building, and louder too. Men on horses cantered by with swords out, screaming war cries. Other men, on foot, either tried to defend themselves or flee. Either way, they were cut down. As Ashley watched, one man had his head completely severed from his neck. The head, its short blond hair covered by blood, hit the pavement and bounced toward her.

She lunged backward so fast she nearly fell over. The horseman who cut off the head watched it roll and saw her. A savage grin contorted his face as he raised his bloody sword and kicked his horse into a run, right at the alley.

Maya’s clutching hand yanked her to her feet. “Run!” she screamed.

Ashley hoisted up her dirty skirt and ran as fast as she could the opposite way down the alley. That stupid dress did its best to trip her, but she powered through. The horseman was right behind them. The only thing that saved them was the narrowness of the alley, which barely allowed the horse to pass and did not give much room for the rider to swing his sword.

The two women burst out of the alley into another street, where another dozen men on horseback all suddenly focused on them. Well, almost all. A couple were in the middle of assaulting a pair of screaming women who had their dresses pushed up to their waists. Ashley slowed, panting and staring in shock. She had studied history for more than four years, learning about various wars. Rape and looting were part of war. She knew that. Intellectually, she knew that, but she’d never seen it, never had a front row seat to the atrocities.

Numbly, she stared at the horrifying scene. I’ve gone insane, she concluded. That was the only explanation for this. I must have cracked my head when I fell against the fountain and now I’m in the hospital having a nightmare.

A really intense nightmare, in technicolor and with surround sound. With Maya holding her by her good wrist and her bad elbow holding the skirt against her waist, she couldn’t pinch herself. But she wanted to. She really, really wanted this to be a dream.

“Don’t stop! Run!” screamed Maya beside her.

“Run where?” she screamed back.

Retreat was impossible. They couldn’t go back to the alley. Ashley could swear she felt the horse’s breath on the back of her neck. The horseman behind them screamed a war cry practically in her ear. She turned to look up at him. Maya moved so they were back-to-back. Ashley stood staring at the guy who had followed them down the alley, and Maya faced the others.

This is it, Ashley thought. After years of fighting leukemia, she was going to die by having her head lopped off with a sword.

At last! At last! Lobo’s Mate is available everywhere! Or at least, most places. Like:

Amazon.com

Amazon.ca

Amazon.uk

Amazon.au

Also at:

Barnes and Noble

Apple iBooks

Smashwords

I would love for you to pick up a copy. I have priced it at $1.99 for the first three months. Of course, some of you will have a copy already from the newsletter giveaway in December. This is the same story so no need to double up. I will be working on a paperback version in a few weeks and hope to have it ready to go around May 15 so I can have a few copies at Lori Foster’s Reader & Author Gt Together in June.

Happy Reading!

Coming from Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, etc, on April 5, 2024!

Lobo is socially awkward lone wolf who never expected his wolf to choose a mate. Gen is woman who thought she was the only survivor of a plane crash that threw her fifty years into a post-apocalyptic future where women are rare and obliged to marry.

When a local rancher gets pushy about marriage, Gen looks desperately for an escape. Lobo offers to take her to his cousin’s Pack, where other women from the crash lives. That sounds good to her. He might stumble over his words when talking to her, but he has no trouble scaring off her would-be suitors. But what does he want in exchange for his protection?

Is that a crazy title for a blog post or what? LOL More on that down below.

I have been hard at work getting my books back up. So far Sleeping With the Wolf, Wolf’s Glory, Wolf Tracker, Wolf’s Oath, Sherry’s Wolf, and Eddie’s Prize have been reviewed and put up at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, and other places. Tonight I loaded Ellie’s Wolf and Wolf’s Vengeance up and they should be available soon. And!! I commissioned professional cover art for Lobo’s Mate and I got the mock up. It is sooo nice! I will share when it is final.

You know, as I was reviewing the manuscripts I was struck by how good I thought every single one was. I don’t want to sound big-headed, but they are good! Not great, like some of my favorite authors are, but very enjoyable. Thank you to everyone who read them!

So. The Emotional Support Chicken. There is a pattern on Ravelry that you can knit and stuff, and it is a chicken. The first time I saw it I thought it was stupid and not anything I would want. But the more I saw it the more I liked it. I saw one that another writer friend had made and I decided it was about the cutest thing ever. And the brouhaha with my old church has left me feeling a bit bruised, so maybe an emotional support chicken would be good for me? I am about 10% done since my knitting time has been a bit scanty due to the day job and then working on the backlist to re-publish.

Here in North Dakota we’ve barely had winter. This has been the warmest winter on record. But of course this is still March in North Dakota so we are expecting a storm starting tomorrow night and running through Monday night. Snow fall of 6″-12″ (15-30 cm) is expected, and of course there will be wind. I may need to stay home from church on Sunday. You know what that means? Yes, READING time!

The Dakotas and Minnesota aren’t the only places expecting a winter storm. I hope wherever you are, you will have a lovely weekend with lots of fun and some good books to read.

Love,

Maddy

For the last six weeks I have been swamped by anger and bitterness and hurt while I tried to come to grips with my church situation. It has been difficult, but I have come out the other side with my faith intact and in some ways even stronger. I have found an Evangelical Free church in the neighboring city that I like a lot. The music is good, and the pastors are preaching through the gospel of Mark, and the people are friendly.

I still occasionally feel some hurt and anger toward my old church, but less and less often. I think they are wrong, but I don’t believe they meant to hurt me by telling me my books are sinful and I am leading readers to sin and hell. Sin is sin, and in their minds, writing porn is as wrong as committing murder. I agree sin is wrong and should be confronted and stopped. I don’t agree that my books are sinful. I don’t think they handled it well, but they are doing what they believe is right.

I have been going through my books to fix any typos and I am struck anew by something that is similar in nearly all the books: the heroes are tender, respectful, and loving with their mates. The love scenes are not for titillation; they help the reader see the love between the hero and heroine. The stories are not pornography.

As I said, I am going through my books in preparation for them to go back up at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo and other online retailers. I used to have my books in Amazon Kindle Unlimited, but I am going to take the opportunity to have them everywhere. We’ll see how they do. If they sell well, I will keep them at all retailers. If they don’t sell as well as I’d like I may put them back in Kindle Unlimited, which means they are available only through Amazon. We see how things look by Labor Day.

So far, Sleeping With the Wolf and Wolf’s Glory are available now at most retailers. I plan to have Wolf Tracker, Wolf’s Oath and Sherry’s Wolf published by Sunday. If things continue to go on schedule Eddie’s Prize will be up by March 17.

It’s kinda big-headed for me to say it, but I was surprised how much I enjoyed re-reading these stories. It’s been quite a while since I wrote them and I’d forgotten so much. Taye is such a good man. And Tracker! Boy, I just LOVE Tracker! I’m looking forward to reading the rest.

That’s the update for now. I just finished reading A Wolf So Grim and Mangy by Caroline Noe. If you, like me, have some gray hair and aches and pains that come with age, and you enjoy a little humor with your romance, you might really enjoy that book too. Here is a link if you want to check it out: https://amzn.to/3PdN898

Until next time, HAPPY READING!!

Some people have asked what is going on with my books being taken down. Here is a (not so) brief explanation. On the morning of Saturday 1/27/24 I received an email from my pastor and the elder of my church. It was lengthy and detailed.

One line was: “When I (pastor) looked into what you were writing it grieved me. Your books glorify all kinds of sexual sin and describe sexual acts in explicitly pornographic detail.” And another was: “We urge you to no longer engage in the writing, reading, or spread of sexual content causing others to also stumble and fall into the sins of lust and sexual impurity. You have profited off of the sale of this material and have willingly put it in front of people, tempting them to sin and to lust as you have. It is a serious thing to lead others into sin and away from Christ.”

And what I needed to do: “Repentance looks like the following:
1. Confess your sin to the Lord and repent of it.
2. Cease selling and profiting off of this sin and take down or destroy any of your work that is sexual in nature and instead use your gifts, talents, and abilities as a writer to produce works that honor the Lord and do not glorify sin.
3. Continue to invest in your spiritual health by attending the ministries of the church and building relationships with godly people. Seek godly counsel and accountability from your sisters in Christ and others in the church.
4. Provide the church with a new email address for you that is not related to Maddy Barone. “

Before I go any further, I want to make a confession of faith. Feel free to skip down a paragraph if you don’t want to read about my faith.

I believe in God. I believe that I and everyone else is a sinner. No one can say they have never broken a single one of the 10 commandments even once. Our screw ups separate us from God. I believe that God loves us and wants us to be UNseparated from Him, but He is holy and cannot bear sin. So He made a plan so people can be in a relationship with him. He sent Jesus, who is God himself, to die so our sins are paid for. The Jewish people made sacrifices at the temple to pay for sin. They would find the most perfect lamb to sacrifice, but that sacrifice had to be performed on a continuing basis. Jesus was THE perfect lamb, the lamb of God, and His sacrifice was the last one required for forgiveness of sin. Anyone who believes they are a sinner and is sorry for it and asks Jesus to forgive them is a Christian. I am a Christian and I believe that Christians are called to be part of a local body of fellow believers.

Okay. So I got that email and was shocked. Horrified. Angry. So angry. And scared. I love my church. I have been there for more than 20 years. They have been utterly supportive of me while I battled cancer. I am not done battling cancer. How could I do it on my own? On that first day I was willing to do ANYTHING to keep my church family. I rushed to take down my books. I made announcements on my Facebooks pages. I made a statement on my website.

But the more I did, the more I realized I wasn’t doing it to please God. I was doing it so I could stay in my church. I do not think my books are pornography. I think they are love stories featuring one man and one woman in a monogamous permanent relationship. To agree with the demands my pastor and elder are making would be like agreeing that the sun rises in the west. It would be lying.

So I have left my church. It broke my heart. I’m not angry now, only very, very sad. Still a little disbelieving, actually. (Like HOW could this have happened? I have been going to that church for half my life, and I’ve been published for 14 of those years, but this is just happening NOW? Why?) It’s like I lost my whole family in a car crash or in some expected way. I am grieving. I have spent hours in prayer and tears. This was not an easy decision. Maddy Barone is not just my pen name. My SCA friends have known me as Maddy since 1998. How could I cut them loose because of a name?

I have decided to take some time reviewing my books for typos or minor updates and then put them back up, hopefully by April 1. So that is where I am at. I apologize for my hasty de-listing of my books. I was drowning in panic and denial when I did it and it confused some of you. I am sorry.