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.
This sounds really interesting. Thanks for sharing.
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