The cost of magic has never been clearer.
Echo of the Evercry
by E.J. Dawson
Genre: Epic Fantasy
The
cost of magic has never been clearer.
Larissa’s
inability to kill is a disgrace to her absent mother, Sword Matriarch
of the Fair Lady's order, a sisterhood whose purpose is to hunt down
sorcerers corrupted by the Evercry and slay them. But Larissa hides
an even more sinful secret: she is drawn toward magic, and it grows
stronger in her every day.
Larissa keeps a stranglehold on her
gift until the day of her graduation test, when her misuse of magic
leads her to failure. Prepared to be cast out of the sisterhood, she
is instead brought into the scorned caste of the darkkins, those who
study and wield magic in the fight against the Evercry. In their
halls she discovers that her proclivity for magic makes her powerful,
and a little dangerous.
Gone for years, her mother suddenly
sends word that she needs help to defeat a formidable sorcerer, help
only Larissa can give. Larissa will do anything to save her mother,
even travel with the girl who bullied her all through school. But as
they battle monsters and mercenaries, Larissa must grapple with dark
truths about the sisterhood and her heritage, and decide who she can
really trust with her mother’s fate…and her own.
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A prickle
over her skin, the rush of air her only warning. She
snatched the
book above her head just as a splash of water spilled
over her
lap. Harmless enough to her cotton underthings and
armored
leather, it would have spelled destruction for the book. As it
was,
raindrop kisses laved their spatter marks across the pages.
Larissa
cringed.
“Careful
there, bookkeeper.”
She ignored
the taunt and brushed aside the water droplets.
“I don’t
know why you’re bothering,” the voice continued. “The
time for ink
scribbling is over. You may be first in all other classes,
but you will
always be last in the one that counts.”
Larissa’s
cheeks warmed, her hands perspiring. She’d spent years
not
retaliating to the barbs, ignoring pettiness and rivalry, but on this
last day,
she couldn’t contain her scorn. Valare’s taunting would not
go
unanswered, not if Larissa had a chance to bite back before they
parted ways
forever.
She rose
from her seat, book in hand. Better than a blade, because
to her it
was an equal weapon to the broadsword across Valare’s
back. “I’ve
never been able to tell, Valare, what it is you’re angrier
about.”
A susurrus
rippled through the long low room, a sudden pause, as
though a
stray dog had done an interesting trick.
“It speaks!”
Larissa
flinched at Valare’s ridicule She tossed thin blonde braids
over her
back and glared in defiance at the other acolyte.
Hands on her
hips, Valare stood bedecked in her accustomed
fighting
garb, cream armor that marked her family lineage. Her
mother was
Atticus, defender of the realm, matriarch of shields.
Valare’s
armor glinted near gold in the low flickering torchlight,
extra
polished for the momentous occasion of the Empirical.
Her tawny,
sun-tanned skin gleamed, thick muscles evidence of
her
training. Hair black as a raven’s wing shorn short, her dark eyes
narrowed on
Larissa in condescending amusement. “Go on now,
lamb-tongued
one. Let’s see what you’ll bleat for me.”
Valare’s
companions grinned at one another, enjoying the
culmination
of a years-long rivalry.
All knew the
cause. Larissa should be strong like Valare, like her
mother, and
she was…not.
The only
similarities between she and her mother were the same
caramel hue
in their eyes, the same blonde hair. But Larissa lacked a
knight’s
stature, held softness at her waist and hips from hours spent
reading when
she slipped away from training. It made her armor
pinch, and
she avoided it whenever possible.
In short,
Larissa was soft, hesitant, girlish. She’d spent six years
dodging
either Valare’s viper tongue or not-so-subtle attacks. They
were meant
to be a match, one a shield, the other a sword, just like
their
mothers. Only the flaws of Larissa’s character intervened.
Valare was
as easy to violence as blood to a blade, but Larissa
cowered
every time. Conflict churned her stomach, sent tremors
through her
hands. Years of training gradually steadied them but
could not
take away Larissa’s revulsion. Much to Valare’s disgust and
contempt.
Larissa’s
face burned, but she squeezed the book, grounding
herself in
its worth. Valare would never understand the content
within.
Could never appreciate the delicate phrasing of dark magics.
Never taste
knowledge from forgotten corridors of the world.
Larissa did,
and often, but kept it secret out of necessity. And while
she wasn’t
the warrior Valare was, she could fight with words.
“Is it
because you’re afraid brawn won’t carry you to victory?” She
tilted her
head, glaring up at Valare. “Or is it because you’re so
dreadful at
everything else that without knighthood you hold no
purpose?”
“Oh, I see.”
Valare stroked her chin in faux contemplation. “You
want me to
beat you to a pulp before the
Empirical, so you have a
chance
to…what? Cry foul?”
There were
hisses among the throng, Valare’s words an insult to
any of the
Fair Lady’s acolytes. Especially to Larissa. Who had taken
every
beating Valare had ever given her, and not once given in.
Larissa
hefted the book in her hand, teeth grinding as she readied
to
say something she’d regret.
Ejay writes scifi, fantasy, and horror, with a dash of the paranormal. She has two books with Literary Wanderlust, gothic noir Behind the Veil and all female cast fantasy Echo of the Evercry. She also has a nonfic story with Seaside Gothic, a dark paranormal with Grendel Press, and hopeful scifi with Savage Planets. She is devoted to writing and the community, as a mentor for Write Hive, Futurescapes Alum, a previous SPSFC judge, Flights of Fancy volunteer, in the Australian Writers Centre Write Your Novel Program, and studying a post-grad diploma in creative writing. When not writing she's walking her rescue dogs, or becoming obsessed with a new computer game.
The cover looks great. The blurb and excerpt sound really good.
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