Exert from the Screaming Into the Void post…

I am continuing to post the first few chapters of The Aos Si’s Gift on Substack. Due to the length of the first chapter, I’ve had to break it down into two parts. The second part will be available this afternoon. If you like this and are interested in reading the rest of The Aos Si’s Gift, then it is available through IngramSpark eCommerce as well as Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

A stiff, early autumn breeze cut across the rolling hills north of the city of Raine in the middle of the Kingdom of Tyrsiln. It drummed against walls of the tents pitched on a line of high hills to the northeast of the city.

The city below straddled the Erlenz River that wound its way north towards the coast. It was a large city, serving both as a major trading hub and the kingdom’s capital. Its outlying farms spread for several miles outside its high walls. The vantage point on the hill provided a good view of the city. The river divided the walled city roughly in half. Docks for river traffic headed to the North Sea occupied part of the west bank, only a short distance north of the Rose Bridge that connected the halves of the city. Further south, the palace sat on an island in the river, and piers for ferries and river traffic dotted both banks further upriver. The university was barely visible a short distance south of the main city.

Erik Vespin stood on the crest of that hill while the ten men with him finished their breakfast, broke down the camp, and got the horses ready. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and an otherwise lean, athletic frame built from years of fighting in heavy armor. His black hair hung loosely to his shoulders, his blue eyes were hard as agates, and his half-elven heritage showed more in his somewhat pale complexion than his lean, angular features. He was plainly dressed, having decided to forego his armor and surcoat. Even the sword belted around his waist was purely functional. The only things that stood out in his dress were the gilded spurs at his heels and the gold-buckled garter of an officer of the Knights of the Order of the Hunt.

Erik felt a strange chill as he stared out over the city, though the weather had not yet turned cold. It seemed to carry a tense feeling of wrongness to his eyes, like the calm before a storm. He absently wondered what was important enough that Queen Estrid had requested his return to the city. They had agreed that he would return to Drassen before his departure for the Hold. The siege at the Hold had dragged on for nearly a year, though, and Erik realized that much could change in that time. Her letter had been uncharacteristically vague, lacking any explanation why she wanted him in Raine. She was withholding a great deal from him, and that fact, more than anything, was the source of his unease. Queen Estrid rarely held secrets from him. On the occasion that she did, it meant that something was very wrong.

Erik was pulled from his quiet brooding by the sound of mailled footsteps behind him. The knight who approached was a hard, lean-faced man in his fifties with silver-shot black hair which he kept knotted at the base of his skull. He held a pair of steaming tin teacups in his hand and offered one of the cups to Erik. “Be careful, my lord,” he cautioned. “It’s hot.”

Erik nodded silently and put his gloves on before taking the cup. “Thank you, Siegler,” he replied to the older knight.

Continue reading on Substack…