SynopsisA brother and sister see their world torn apart when their parents are slaughtered by the church they sought to support, and now they are set on the path of justice, teetering on the edge of revenge. As they seek justice for their parents, they inadvertently set in motion the resurgence of their culture, long suppressed by that same church, and discover that everything they've been raised to believe is a lie. Magic, long outlawed, may be the only way to avenge their family and, since the church is corrupt, save their world from a growing menace too dark to defeat any other way.
Excerpt(Remember...this is a very rough first draft...)
. . . The wagon was moving fast now, the two horses at a canter. She could see huge barrels in the back. Probably ale destined for the busy tavern. It was closing in fast. Thirty yards. Twenty. Ten. She tensed, and when the horses reached Drugami, she ran full speed and planted her shoulder in the small of his back.
Already off-balance, Drugami was helpless to stop his fall. He lurched forward and fell face-first into the street, right in behind the two horses. Lya grabbed the post and stopped herself short of falling just as the front wheel went over the priest with a sickening crunch. It rolled him over and he looked ready to cry out when the rear wheel went over his chest too, silencing him.
The driver never even slowed. His wagon was so weighed down that he probably hadn’t even felt the priest’s body.
Lya grabbed Drugami’s feet and dragged him a few feet further into the shadows, fighting down the urge to vomit when he made a sickening, slurping sound on the cobblestones. As soon as she was hidden from prying eyes, Lya kneeled over the priest and took the dagger from its sheath on his belt. It was an ornate weapon, probably more suited for cutting fruit than fighting, but its edge was sharp, and its wire-wrapped handle easy to grip. She needed no more.
Drugami’s eyes were open, but his gaze seemed focused far away. His chest made an awful sucking sound as he tried to breathe, but it didn’t rise and fall as it should have. Blood ran from his nose and mouth, bubbling on his lips.
She leaned close to his face.
“Look in my eyes, priest,” she said, keeping her voice to a raspy whisper. For an instant he seemed to focus on her, and his eyes went a little wider. He tried to say her name, she thought, his tongue trying to form the first sound, but only more gurgling came out. “Yes, Lyakage Siga’ada. You are the first. The rest will die too. All of them. God might believe that he is the only one who can have vengeance, but I’m going to prove him wrong.”
His hand fumbled at her sleeve as he hissed and gurgled more. Lya jerked her sleeve away and put the blade against his throat.
“Now it’s time to die,” she said. “Enjoy serving the Demon King in hell.”
Then she drew the blade across his neck, pressing hard as she crossed the veins on each side. Blood oozed from each side, pooling under his head and shoulders. After a moment, his breathing finally ceased.