Destruction's Ascent Deleted Scene

This past weekend I worked a little bit in Dragon 4. Every time I start a new book in a series, I always go back and reread the last one. There are a variety of reasons for that. Among them is that it helps me recapture the voice of my main character, and it reminds me of all the ideas that didn't quite make it into the last book. 

In doing that, I remembered a scene I deleted. I meant to share it after Destruction's Ascent came out but forgot (another reason I have to reread the last book--my memory is terrible).

I thought sharing that scene with you would be a nice way to start the week. It's an alternative version of how the group got to the Little Harbor Marketplace to meet Daisy.  Enjoy.

Deleted Scene

Tate waited in front of a large iron wrought gate and eyed the monstrosity it protected with a conflicted expression that edged towards distaste. While the house behind its barrier wasn’t really that hideous, it was the complete opposite of anything she’d planned to live in. It was huge and overdone, lacking any class while trying to make up for that lack by going as big and bold as it could. She knew the area was considered a place for the newly rich and as such lacked the elegant taste of the older sections of the city.

When the solicitor they’d enlisted to help them recommended it, they’d been hesitant but willing to try since it was in a more desirable section of the city. It was close to the hill leading to the Lower, but far enough away to be considered respectable among the crowd she was now expected to rub elbows with.

Though, if this was what they considered acceptable, she might need to rethink how much she wanted to blend. She much preferred her quarters at Colton’s Place over this. They were simple and sparse and easy to keep clean. This—this would be a nightmare to manage.

Two women walked up on her other side and Tate stepped back to let them precede her onto the property. The woman closer to her made a sound of recognition and stepped back. “Lady Fisher, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Tate blinked at the woman, recognition slow to come. After a long moment, she said, “Lady Spiritly, I could say the same.”

Roslyn was dressed simply, her clothes having seen better days and her hair pulled back off her face in a simple knot. She had a look in her eyes that hadn’t been there the last time Tate had seen her, shortly after she disowned her connection with her family. It was the kind of look that said she hadn’t had an easy time of it, that the world was a much less kind place than she had thought.

Roslyn looked discomforted. “It’s just Roslyn now.”

Tate didn’t know how to respond to that and looked at Roslyn’s companion, a woman with ash blond hair and a protective look on her face. “Ashwin, right?” Tate said.

Ashwin nodded and dipped a slight curtsy.

There was an awkward pause. Tate didn’t know how to speak to Roslyn, given their history. While Roslyn wasn’t at fault for much of what had gone before, she was forever associated with it in Tate’s memory. At the same time, Tate felt partially responsible for her fall from grace. It put her in an odd predicament.

“You’re looking at this place to rent?” Roslyn said, saving Tate from herself.

“Ah, yes.” Tate glanced back at the monstrosity and inwardly cringed. It hadn’t gotten any better in the time since they’d started talking.

Roslyn’s face turned thoughtful, some of her uneasiness from before fading. “That’s surprising. It would be wiser to buy. It’s more affordable than renting, and you won’t be limited to such interesting quarters.”

Tate didn’t want to admit she didn’t have the funds to buy a place outright. Not in the Upper at least. She might be drawing a regular stipend now that she was part of the dragon corps, but it would take time to accrue.

She nodded to show she was listening before switching the subject. “Are you in the area to look at rentals as well?”

Roslyn gave a strained smile and lifted her chin. “No, I’m actually here for a different purpose.”

Tate waited assuming she’d share, but another awkward pause ensued.

Before she could come up with some social nicety, the gate swung open and Dewdrop and Night stalked out. “Tate, thank the Saviors you’re here. That man is a flaming flibberidgit.”

The sound of rushed footsteps on the cobblestones came from behind the two as a man dressed in all purple wearing an absurd colored wig and a hat that looked like something out of a child’s fantasy rushed into view. “Lady Fisher, Lady Fisher, I really must protest my treatment at the hands of these two incompetents. This is really too much.”

“Oh boy,” Tate turned to face the trio as they approached rapidly. Roslyn and Ashwin looked intrigued by the proceedings.

The man stopped beside the gate, resting one hand against it as he caught his breath. He withdrew a lilac handkerchief and pressed it against his mouth as he glared at Tate’s friends.

“When you asked me to help you in this matter, I thought I would gain a certain cachet assisting the only female dragon to live through the bonding.” His voice was light and effeminate, making it hard to take him seriously. Dewdrop snickered, hiding his laugh when Tate sent him a quelling glance.

“That still holds true, Pepper,” Tate said, trying to sooth the man’s ruffled feathers. It was obvious something had happened and she had no doubt the instigators were standing next to her with innocent expressions on their faces. Dewdrop looked amused while Night seemed irate, his eyes narrowed as his tail thumped the ground at her feet.

She hoped Pepper didn’t try to get close to her feline friend. The mood he was in, he was liable to try sharpening his claws on the other man.

Pepper straightened, looking down his nose at her as he flapped his handkerchief at Dewdrop and Night. “I simply cannot continue as I have been. If I am to continue to work with you, your servant and pet will need to be kept in line. It would be best if they were excluded from the process entirely.”

Tate took a deep breath, counseling herself to patience. Pepper was one of the few willing to take her and her ragtag band on. He had connections none of them had. Losing his help would put her in a bind unless she planned to be homeless in a few short weeks.

“I have told you before—Dewdrop and Night are not servants, nor are they pets. They are valued members of my household. Family, if you prefer. I’ve asked you to treat them as such.” On this, she wouldn’t budge.

He squawked and huffed. Tate waited him out, knowing it might take a few minutes. They’d had this exact conversation twice before. She turned her attention to the other two.

“What happened?” She gave them a hard look, letting them know she wasn’t in the mood for games.

Dewdrop jerked his thumb at Pepper. “He showed us to the servant quarters in the basement and told us the rooms there were too good for the likes of a guttersnipe and animal but if ‘Lady Fisher insisted on collecting strays, this would be at least passing respectable.’” Dewdrop’s voice adopted a high sound as he mocked Peppers voice. It was a spot-on imitation and Tate struggled to keep her amusement contained. He needed no further encouragement.

“I don’t sound like that,” Pepper hissed.

“And?” She knew that wasn’t the end of it.

Night’s whiskers twitched, pointing forward. We showed him what a pet and guttersnipe were capable of.

That couldn’t be good. “And how exactly did you do that?”

Dewdrop shrugged. “Called him an ass. Then Night jumped on top of one of the ugly chandeliers.”

“That was a hundred-year-old crystal balleski. They don’t make them like that anymore.” Pepper’s voice was outraged.

“For good reason,” Dewdrop muttered.

Roslyn smothered a laugh. Her face was smooth and blank when Tate looked back at her. She would have thought she’d imagined the sound if not for the faintest trace of amusement around her eyes.

“What am I going to tell the owners?” Pepper asked, his voice aggrieved. “This is a disaster.”

She eyed the other man. “There’s no reason to tell them anything. It’s a chandelier and I doubt Night left any marks on it.”

“There are pawprints all over the house,” Pepper accused in a shrill voice.

“You should be thanking him for dusting,” Dewdrop stated. “That chandelier was filthy.”

There was a snort behind Tate. Ashwin looked outright amused and Roslyn looked like she was losing the battle.

Pepper made an inarticulate sound of rage and threw his handkerchief at the ground at Dewdrop’s feet. They all looked at the crumpled purple square.

“I’ve had it. I won’t work with a thief and animal any longer. Either you get rid of them or I quit,” Pepper declared.

Tate scratched her neck, her gaze going past him to stare at the house. “I guess our association is at an end then.”

Pepper gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing as his face turned nearly the same shade as his coat. “Well, then.” He jerked hard on his coat, straightening it. “Your companions speak to your upbringing, my lady. I’d think long and hard who you spend time with.” He minced past Tate.

She let him go. There were a lot of things she could say back to him, but she thought it best to let him have the final words. His pride had already taken enough of a beating.

“Bye, you insufferable prick,” Dewdrop waved at his back. “Don’t come back now.”

Good riddance, Night declared when he was out of sight.

Tate sighed and gave them both a disappointed look. “That could have gone better.”

Dewdrop shrugged. “It was bound to happen at some point. The stick was shoved too far up his ass to make this work.”

“Now, what are we going to do about a house?” Tate complained. “He was the only one willing to work with us given our reputation.”

She could feel a headache brewing.

“Roslyn can help,” Ashwin said, stepping forward, her eyes determined. “She’ll do it for half what you were going to pay him.”

Roslyn looked startled at her friend’s words, her eyes widening as she found herself the sudden center of attention.

“Her connections are just as good and she knows the city,” Ashwin said.

Dewdrop gave them a skeptical look. “Has she ever rented a house for someone before?”

Ashwin hesitated, her expression torn.

Roslyn met Tate’s gaze with a poised expression. “I have. I used to find places for visiting friends of my father when they came into the city. I’ve also made travel arrangements on their behalf as well. It was an expected function as the daughter of a noble house. He thought it would be good training for the future.”

What she didn’t say was that future was now gone. When she’d disavowed her house, she’d broken with any privilege or power that might have been hers simply because of the name she carried.

“That might work,” Tate said. If she could find them a place, it would make things a lot easier on Tate.

“I would just need to know your requirements,” Roslyn said, her voice soft and unsure.

“Tate, a word,” Dewdrop said as he eyed Roslyn with suspicion. She sighed as he gestured her towards the gate.

“What is it?”

“You can’t just accept help from some stranger on the street,” Dewdrop said.

“Why not?” Tate didn’t see what difference it made. “Roslyn isn’t exactly a stranger either.”

“She might as well be,” Dewdrop returned. “Her father had us kidnapped. She’s probably just like him.”

“That’s overstating things a bit,” Tate said. “Besides, who are we to judge someone by what their family has done?”

He looked away, his expression chastened.

Night watched the two of them, his ears flicking. I don’t see how this is any different than how she met either of us. I vote let the woman try. Done with the conversation, he ambled off.

Tate waited, knowing if she pushed he’d shut down.

Dewdrop threw up his hands. “Fine. I know when I’m out voted. Trust the Lady.” He put a derisive twist on the word ‘lady’. He’d made his feelings on the nobility obvious on more than one occasion. She was starting to think there was history there and made a note to ask him about it later when he wasn’t already worked up. “See how far that gets you.”

He stuffed his hands in his pocket and shuffled after Night. To Roslyn, he said, “Don’t think this means we trust you. Cause we don’t.”

Her face turned dismayed as he stalked past her.

Tate gave her a stiff smile. “As you can see, you’ve got the job.”

A smile grew on her face, at odds with the normal austere expression she showed the world. Ashwin clapped and touched Roslyn on the shoulder in support.

“You won’t regret this,” Roslyn told Tate.

“I certainly hope not,” she replied. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options at this point anyway.

“When are you hoping to move in by?” Roslyn asked, visibly gaining control of herself.

“Well, we’ve been told we need to be out of our current apartments by the end of the month. So, some time before then.”

Roslyn looked taken aback. “That’s in two weeks.”

“Yup.”

The news seemed to take some of the happiness out of her sails. Even Ashwin stared at Tate like she had two heads.

“Is there a problem with that deadline?” Tate asked.

Roslyn shook her head, the motion emphatic. “No, no. No problem. I’ll do it.”

Tate gave her a sharp smile, wondering if she was regretting volunteering yet. “You can send word to Colton’s Place when you have something for me to see.”

Tate gave the two of them an abrupt nod before setting off after her friends. The two of them would leave her behind in a hot minute if she took much longer. Her stomach grumbled letting her know it was long past lunch time. Scratch that, she’d leave them behind if she didn’t get some food into her pronto.

“Come on. Let’s go get some food,” Tate told Dewdrop and Night when she caught up to them.

“We’ve already ate.”

Tate gave him a considering look. Seemed someone wasn’t quite over their sulking yet.

“We can go to that meat pie seller in the Little Market,” Tate said with a sly smile. “The one next to the flower cart.”

Dewdrop twitched, his hands dropping to his sides. He tried to play it cool. “I suppose if you pay for us, there’s no harm eating a second meal.”

Tate smirked, knowing she had him. “It’s settled then. We’ll head to the Lower for food.”

Dewdrop came to a stop realizing how she’d played him. Night huffed, his version of a laugh as he sauntered by him.

“You won’t always get your way, you know,” Dewdrop shouted after them.

“Give it up, kid. I’m just cagier than you,” Tate said over her shoulder. He grumbled as he trailed in their wake.

Time To Beta

It's been a longer road than I anticipated getting to this point. Aileen 4 was more difficult to write than what is typical for a book in this series, but I did it. IDraft two is complete and Aileen's fourth adventure is finally ready for eyes other than my own. That means it's time to reach out to beta readers. 

For those unused to the term "beta reader", this is the stage of the process where the author (me) reaches out to readers (you) to get their impression of the book. It's a way to check the stories temperature and make sure it hits all the notes I want it to with readers. At this point, it's still fairly unpolished with odd grammatical and factual errors. I'm not looking for a hardcore grammar edit. Instead, betas help with pointing out inconsistencies in the story line or character.

For example: Aileen has a gun at the beginning of the scene, then big bad attacks and there is no gun by the end of the scene. What happened to the gun?

Or - I don't understand how we got from point a in the story point b. Something just doesn't feel right.

In Wayfarer's Keep I actually reworked a good chunk of the ending because of the feedback I got at this stage of the process. People felt Shea didn't react in a way consistent with how they'd come to know her in the series. For all that it added almost 15,000 words to the manuscript and took a while to rewrite, I think it's a better book for the changes.

If the above hasn't scared you off and you're still interested, keep reading. Below is an explanation of my expectations. It's a first come, first serve type of opportunity and priority will be given to those who've beta read for me in the past.

Please, please, please, don't volunteer unless you have the time and attention to do this. You'll take the slot from someone who does. I will be doing advanced reader copies again this time which is a lot less of a commitment.

Beta Reader Guidelines and Caveat

Here's how you can volunteer: Private message me through my Facebook page or email me at info@tawhiteauthor.com asking to be a beta reader and committing to the guidelines posted below. Also please let me know if you'd like a kindle version or other ereader version. I can't guarantee I'll choose you as there has been a lot of interest in this in the past, and I can only wade through so many comments at a time without getting overwhelmed and falling into a dark pit of despair.

Beta Guidelines:

This part of the process for me takes place before I send the manuscript to the editor. That means the copy is a little rough still. I'm not looking for intense grammar editing. I'm more focused on comments on the story- pace, structure, characters, things that don't make sense. That kind of stuff. I will outline these questions in more detail for those who participate.

The other thing I ask is for people to send it back to me in the time allotted. I'm asking for it back by Sept. 26th.

I also ask that you agree not to share the story with anyone or upload it to any sites. I know for most of you that would never cross your mind, but I need to say it anyway.

Also, be aware that I may not use your suggestions as my opinion trumps everyone else's. Sometimes you ask questions that I want asked or a suggestion goes against what I'm trying to accomplish.

One final note: Beta reading is not for everyone. For instance, I don't beta read for people because I like getting caught up in the story and not paying attention to the things that irk me. For that reason, I will be doing advance reader copies that will take place at the end of the process and will require less critical thinking on the reader's part--hopefully.

If you're interested, let me know. If you're not, I hope you enjoy the book when it comes out.

Happy Book Release!!

Wayfarer's Keep is out!! If you haven't already, you can get your copy now at any of the following retailers.

Amazon  |  Barnes and Noble  |  Kobo  |  Itunes

Branded a traitor by her people, Shea and her warlord—the fiercely dangerous Fallon—travel to the Pathfinders’ seat of power at her father’s request, hoping to form an alliance despite the distrust between them. It doesn’t take long before Shea and Fallon realize something is dangerously wrong in the place she once called home. Ancient, deadly creatures—gone for hundreds of years, once again walk the lands, awakened from a deep sleep. Worse, it seems the Pathfinders are keeping a secret—one that could destroy them all.

On the brink of battle with each other, the Pathfinders and Trateri must join forces if they hope to defeat the evil at the heart of the Badlands. As the tension rises between the two peoples, and Shea and her family, Shea and Fallon must convince them to overcome their differences if they are to triumph over impossible odds. Because the beasts may be the least of their worries. Sometimes betrayal comes from within, and the most dangerous monsters may be those closest to them. 

Bears and Inspiration

I'm alive! This years backpacking trip is one we'll be telling stories about for years. 

Brief excerpt from the hike

Stop at trail head to read the rules of the path. Notice on board says "Beware Bears. All over nighters must have a bear canister."

B: What?! No one said anything about bears.

Me: Didn't you see it on the forestry website? I sent the link to my sister.

B: No! I saw nothing!

Sister: It'll be fine. We probably won't see a bear.

B: We don't have a canister! The bears will know we have food!

Me: My husband rented a bear canister. Just put your food with ours.

Several hours later from the campsite across the path

Unknown camper: Get bear, get. Go on, now. Get. Go AWAY BEAR. GO AWAY!

B: BEAR?!

Brother in law: It'll be fine. We did everything we were supposed to.

B: BEAR?!

Brother in law: We'll post a fireguard.

Sister: Oh no you won't. You have to come to bed to protect me. You can guard from the tent.

One in the morning.

Dog growls.

Brother in law: Get bear, get. GO AWAY NOW!

Needless to say, none of us got much sleep that night. No one actually saw the bear, but my brother in law said he heard something big coming through the underbrush toward us. He's spent considerable time in the wilderness and is an Army Ranger, so I trust his assessment of events.

Also, when we got off the trail a few campers said bears had taken their food. Thank goodness my husband decided to research everything about the trail this time or we might have had our food taken too.

The trip was exhausting, but fun. I would definitely go on another one. Although I might pick an easier route next time as this one nearly caused a revolt. Nothing went as planned, and unfortunately we couldn't complete it because some of the trail was closed due to erosion.

Bonus: I got a great idea for a scene in a future Broken Lands novel :-) I get inspiration out of the weirdest things.

Fallon POV

There's just over a week until Wayfarer's Keep, book three in the Broken Lands series, goes live. As a treat and to whet your appetite for Fallon and Shea, I thought I'd post a very short piece I wrote. The scene would take place in Pathfinder's Way and is told from Fallon's point of view about the first time he meets Shea.

One caveat - this has not been through the usual editing process so there will probably be errors galore. 

Enjoy!


Every warrior knew death could come in an instant, a split second where the odds turned against you and ended your time on this world. It was the one thing that bound all clans living in this fucked up land. It was an inescapable fact of life—eventually the cold embrace of death came for them all.

Some let it define them. They lived so carefully, never daring to step outside their narrow boundaries for fear it might consume them. Others ran to embrace it, dancing along its knife edge with wild abandon in the hopes it would make the time they had left taste all the sweeter.

Fallon had never particularly ascribed to either mind set. He treated death like the respected and canny adversary it was. One day it would defeat him, but until then he would fight with everything that was in him to resist its call.

He just hadn’t thought it would come for him so soon—especially not when he was on the cusp of achieving all he’d worked for. But that was death for you. It made a mockery of your plans even as you desperately tried to rally.

“Move it,” the guard said, jabbing Fallon hard in the back.

“Watch it,” Wilhelm hissed. Fallon’s friend and Anateri looked two seconds from throwing himself at their guards and exacting bloody retribution for the past few days.

Fallon was tempted to let him.

Their guards were the typical sort you found in a village like this. Brave when in a group; cowards when on their own or in the face of a predator greater than themselves.

A tall man, the guard was no stranger to hard work. A farmer, most likely, given the callouses on his hands. A man who probably spent his entire life toiling in the dirt, trying to tear enough from it to feed his family.

He must have been thrilled for the chance to play at war. He’d been one of several tasked with guarding Wilhelm and Fallon during their involuntary week long stay.

Fallon’s hands were scarred and calloused too, but his came from a life spent with blade in hand. They were formed over countless days spent training and during numerous battles where victory was decided by the thinnest of margins.

He didn’t play at death. For him, it was an old companion that was constantly at his side.

Fallon gritted his teeth and tamped down on his desire to rend and maim as the guard shoved him again.  It went against the grain not to retaliate, but every good hunter knew that sometimes patience was the only way to achieve your end goal.

He shook his head at Wilhelm. Much as nothing would please him more than popping this man’s head like a zit, it wasn’t time yet. Wilhelm might succeed in taking down the two idiots before them, but there were five more standing just outside this hovel, ready and waiting for an excuse to beat them.

Fallon didn’t want any avoidable injuries to hinder them when it came time for escape.

“What are you going to do? Huh?” The man’s lip curled as he glanced at his friend to make sure he was watching.

Fallon snorted, letting him see the derision in his face as he looked the man over. He sure talked big now that he had his friends backing him up. He hadn’t been so confident during their last confrontation. Then he’d looked like a scared little boy about to piss his pants.

The guard correctly interpreted that look for what it was, his eyes widening and rage turning his face bright red. He balled his hand into a fist and struck.

He was slow and telegraphed his move. It would have been easy to dodge. It was so very tempting to do just that, then show him the right way to punch, preferably in such a way that he’d be wearing the lesson into the next world.

Instead, Fallon remained still, letting the blow glance off him. It was just as weak as he suspected.

The man panted. “You’d better watch yourself, boy.”

Fallon wiped the speck of blood from his split lip. He examined the small amount and laughed. It really was too pitiful to even be considered a proper punch.

The man puffed up and stepped toward him. His friend brought him up short. “Enough of that now. We can’t go roughing them up right before the big event. The elders think their deaths will keep other outsiders away.”

The words seemed to get through and the first man relaxed, giving Fallon and Wilhelm a nasty smile. “Good point. I’ll be sure I’m the one holding the blade when it comes time to end your miserable lives. I’m told they didn’t bother sharpening it. I wonder how many whacks it’ll take before we succeed in separating your head from your shoulder.”

Fallon didn’t react to the threat, just stared at the man with a remote expression.

Not getting the reaction he’d hoped for, the guard spit at the ground and stalked out, his friend right behind him.

“Have to say, never thought something like this would be my end,” Wilhelm said tiredly as he leaned his head back against the wall of their cell.

It wasn’t really a cell, just a dirt room in one of the building off the village’s main square.

Fallon ignored the slight sense of claustrophobia he felt being in the small space. He didn’t understand how these people could spend their entire lives behind four walls. No windows or anything to let in the light. They were too afraid of what was outside their flimsy walls. They might as well have dug a hole in the ground and then closed it up behind them. It was nothing like the airy tents of his people.

“We’re not dead yet,” Fallon said.

Though if they didn’t act soon, that would become a very real possibility.

Who would have thought the great warlord, the man who’d united the Trateri clans under one banner, would be brought low by two youths of no more than fifteen? A boy visiting a girl he liked while she looked over the herds. Fallon and Wilhelm had attempted to buy a few mounts after their own had been killed during an encounter with one of the many beasts inhabiting this land. They’d barely escaped with their lives.

Perhaps that was why neither man had been suspicious when the girl had offered them a cup of warm otho to seal the deal for the mounts. Not until they woke up in this dirt room. Then it had become quite clear the otho had had something else in it, something designed to incapacitate them while the boy ran for help.

They should have just stolen the horses. Darius and Caden were never going to let him live this down if they caught wind of it.

“Time to go,” a man said from the doorway.

Fallon and Wilhelm didn’t bother arguing, filing out of the room one after another as the villagers closed ranks around them. The crowd outside jeered, already whipped into a fury. They were out for blood.

How many others had they sent to this same fate? Fallon and Wilhelm were obviously not the first. Not given the excitement in each man’s eyes.

Fallon didn’t react to the fervor, his face a blank mask. Not when they tied his hands. Not even when two other men were brought out. One had been seriously beaten, his face swollen and his eyes already turning purple as he sagged in his captor’s hold. The other man argued the entire way, pleading and begging before he tried to throw himself back into the room he’d just exited.

His captors were having none of it, dragging him outside with merciless grins. The villagers got off on the man’s panic and terror, excitement showing in their expressions.

“Have some dignity, man,” Wilhelm muttered.

Fallon agreed. Watching the other man was painful.

The other man struggled, whimpering pitifully as he fought every step of the way.

“Get up or we’ll kill you here,” one of their captors snapped. “Makes no difference to us.”

When even that didn’t work, another man squatted beside the captive and grabbed his hair, using it to force the man’s face up. “Ever seen what happens when someone’s stabbed in the belly. It takes hours for the person to die.”

The man on the ground might not have, but both Fallon and Wilhelm had. It was an agonizing way to go.

The words seemed to get through and the man climbed to his feet, tears on his face.

“Good choice,” the guard said, shoving the man out the door.

The other captive followed behind. Then it was Wilhelm and Fallon’s turn.

“Remember, our ancestors will judge how well we met death,” Fallon told Wilhelm. It was meant as both a warning and a reassurance.

They might not be able to defeat death today, but the grace with which they faced it down would matter in both this world and the next.

Wilhelm nodded. There was a grimness on his face that was familiar, one Fallon knew was reflected in his own expression. It was the look a man got when he knew his end was near.

“Watch for your moment,” Fallon said softly. The odds might be stacked against them, but you never knew when that might change.

“It’s been an honor, Warlord,” Wilhelm said.

He didn’t get to say anything else as his guard shoved him through the door. Fallon was next, walking to his execution with a straight back and his head held high as the crowd jeered and booed at their appearance.

The sounds faded as his focus locked on the four posts the villagers planned to tie them to. All the while, he watched. He waited and cataloged every detail around him. The number of people, the possible escape routes, even the condition of his fellow captives and how they might be of use.

Then he was on the platform, his hands being tied to the post.

His guard shoved his face next to Fallon’s. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

Fallon didn’t speak, simply stared at the man with an expression so cold and remote that it was like the lords of the underworld had risen up to peer out of his eyes.

The man flinched, fear momentarily flashing across his face before he recovered. He shoved Fallon’s head before walking away muttering.

Wilhelm jerked at his own bindings and snarled.

“Easy,” Fallon said. “We will have our revenge for every slight in the end.”

He meant that. There was a cold feeling in the depth of his stomach, a rage that ate away at his humanity as he watched the gathering. Men, women and children, gossiping and playing as they cheered for his blood.

He’d see every single one of them dead or enslaved before he left this world.

Fallon ignored them as he turned his body so his hands were protected from view from the rest of the square. He stepped forward and lifted the sharpened piece of rock out of his pants.

Wilhelm saw what he was doing and smiled, turning to keep watch as Fallon began to saw at the rope.

The discord in the crowd started small, almost unnoticeable at first. Fallon might have overlooked it if his senses weren’t so heightened.

A small figure threaded through the crowd. Not suspicious in and of itself, except for the fact that their hood was up.

Now, why would a villager be hiding their face while among their own people?

For a moment, Fallon thought Darius might have sent someone to check out the area when Fallon turned up late for their rendezvous. Just as quickly he discarded that notion. None of Darius’s men were that slight and the person didn’t move like a warrior. It lacked the confidence and awareness of someone who had spent his life learning to kill.

Fallon continued sawing at the rope even as he watched the figure advance on the platform. He found himself wishing the person to look up, just for a moment. He needed to see.

As if hearing his wish, the figure ducked their head lower and pulled the hood more firmly into place.

A man reached over, grabbing the hood and yanking it back, revealing a woman.

Her head lifted as a cry rose. “Outsider! She’s with them! There’s another outsider.”

She froze in place, staring around her as if startled at being unmasked. Stupid. She should run. These people were crazy. They’d kill her.

She did move then, but not away as Fallon had expected. She darted forward, her destination the platform. Fallon cursed as he sawed at his bonds. The fool woman was going to get herself killed.

Her head lifted, her eyes coming up to meet his. Fallon’s breath caught as her fierce gaze met his, a pair of hazel eyes wide in a determined face. Her mouth had a stubborn line to it.

Someone grabbed her, spinning her around. A man raised a fist at her.

Fallon jerked at his ropes. They gave, just a bit. Not enough.

A crack pierced the air. The ground shook as cries of  “stampede” rose.

The square turned into a sea of chaos as the villagers sought cover.

The woman bounded up the steps, her expression fierce as she raced across the platform, her cloak billowing as a halo of untamed curls circled her face. She looked like an avenging goddess from one of the old myths his grandmother used to tell him, come down to lay waste on her enemies.

The executioner approached her, an ax in his hand. Another crack pierced the air and red blossomed in his chest.

Fallon looked up at the buildings around them, spotting a man lying on one, a strange weapon in his hands as he aimed at the other villagers on the platform. Every sharp sound brought down anyone who approached the woman as she raced to the sniveler’s side.

“Shea!” the sniveler screamed as he struggled against his bonds.

She pulled a knife from her waist and started working on his bindings as her friend apologized over and over again.

Fallon looked over at Wilhelm, who shrugged and shook his head in confusion. He didn’t know what was going on anymore than Fallon did. The unexpected arrival of the woman and her friend had thrown both of them for a loop.

Shea finished with her friend’s bindings and pulled him free, shoving a knife in his hand and pushing him toward the wounded man. “Get Cam loose.”

Fallon expected that to be the end, for her to walk away and leave the two of them here. Only a fool would help a pair of strangers.

To his surprise, she pulled another knife and started sawing at his ropes. She was distracted, keeping an eye on their surroundings. She never noticed that the job was more than half done.

Fallon watched her through half lidded eyes, studying her carefully. This could be a trap designed to get her into his good graces. Something the clan leaders cooked up as an attempt to manipulate and control him. It was something they’d attempted before.

What better way to gain his trust than to save him from an impossible situation.

“Powerful weapon, that,” he said, testing her.

She grunted but didn’t respond otherwise as she finished freeing him and moved on to Wilhelm.

Fallon followed, not wanting to let her out of his sight. At least not until he understood what she wanted. Wilhelm looked over her head and lifted his eyebrows as if asking for orders. Fallon shook his head. For now, they’d play along. Things had just gotten interesting and he wanted to see where this led.

“Shea, come on. We have to go,” the sniveler shouted.

Shea cast a glance around even as she worked frantically to free Wilhelm, an expression on her face that Fallon read easily. He was surprised at how closely her thoughts mirrored his.

Where exactly did the sniveler think they would go? The horses still stampeded around them. If they tried leaving the platform now, they’d likely be stomped to death.

Fallon kept his amusement to himself as consternation crossed her face. She had obviously not gotten to that part of the plan. He was curious to see what she’d do now.

“Thanks,” Wilhelm said, rubbing his wrists. “We’re in your debt.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to escape this gods be damned, shit hole of a village.”

She looked around, clearly searching for a way out. Fallon held quiet as he studied her. If she was someone the clan leaders had placed in his path in hopes he’d be caught in her web, they’d chosen well. She wasn’t beautiful. The lines of her face were too strong for that, but there was something about her that demanded attention. An undefinable attribute that drew the beholder’s eye. A confidence that said she was perfectly at home in her own skin and didn’t care for the thoughts or opinions of others.

Some of the most beautiful women in these lands had graced his bed and failed to hold his attention the way this woman now did.

Fallon was fascinated in spite of himself. He didn’t have time for a woman and all the distraction she might bring. He was preparing to conquer these lands, a woman would just get in the way of that.

Still, he found himself unable to look away as every thought the woman had ran across her face. Frustration, unease, sarcasm. He had to wonder what thought spawned that last emotion.

Wilhelm nudged him then nodded at something in the distance.

Fallon couldn’t help his snort. This was the most slapped together plan he’d ever seen, but damned if it wasn’t working.

He leaned forward and tapped the woman on the shoulder, pointing. “Is he with you?”

She squinted at where he pointed.

Relief shone from her face. She grinned and clapped Fallon on the shoulder, not seeing the flash of humor on Wilhelm’s face at seeing his warlord treated as one of her men, or the startled consternation on Fallon’s.

“Prepare to jump,” she called, moving to the edge of the platform.

“In there?” the sniveler asked, wild eyed. “While it’s still moving?”

“It’s not like they can stop and wait until we get comfortable,” she said sarcastically.

Fallon grunted with amusement as Wilhelm’s eyes danced. It seemed she didn’t care for the sniveler any more than they did.

“They’ll slow down, right?” the sniveler asked hopefully.

She ignored him and gestured for the rest of them to join her.

“Jump right before the wagon reaches you,” Fallon said, taking over as was his natural inclination.  He tugged the injured man’s arm from the sniveler as Wilhelm took the other arm.

Fallon had a feeling Shea wouldn’t leave the hurt man behind even if it would be easier and safer. To forestall an argument, he decided to take charge of the situation for her. One way or another, Wilhelm, Fallon and Shea were getting on that wagon. He didn’t really care about the other two, except as it might affecta the outcome he wanted.

She didn’t argue, correctly assuming he and Wilhelm had the better odds of making the jump safely.

The wagon barreled down on them. Fallon and Wilhelm jumped together, taking the injured man with them.

Seconds later, Shea followed, nearly careening off the other side as she landed awkwardly. Fallon grabbed her by the back of the shirt and hauled her back in, grunting when she collided with his body. He got a second to feet her soft curves before he dumped her in the bottom next to the others.

“Thanks,” she said, patting him on the arm. “Guess I owe you one now.”

Fallon’s smile was slow. That’s right. She did, and he intended to collect. “Just returning the favor.”

She gave him an uneasy smile and moved off. He let her as Wilhelm moved up beside him.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Wilhelm said, looking around at their rescuers.

Fallon grunted. In life, all the best things were.

“How do you want to handle this?” Wilhelm murmured.

Fallon was quiet as he thought. They could take control now, but they might have to kill a few of the men since they were outnumbered. He wouldn’t mind the deaths of the other two captives—neither man had impressed him—but their rescuers were a different story.

At the core of things, he was interested. Something he hadn’t been in a long time. He wanted to see how this played out. “Stay close to the man with the weapon. Find out what you can about where they came from.”

“You don’t think they’re from that village?”

Fallon shook his head. “No, and I’d be interested in what kind of place creates people like these.”

Wilhelm nodded and moved off, taking a seat beside the man with the odd weapon and giving him a charming smile. Fallon stared at the woman as she talked to her friend.

He didn’t know her story, but he would soon. And if the clan leaders had sent her his way, he’d just have to break their hold over her and make it so she was loyal to no one but him.

The ARC of Goodness

EDIT: We have met the limit. Thanks to everyone who volunteered. If you missed it this time around, keep your eye out next time.

The ARC has come once again. Thirty copies just waiting for a new home on someone's eReader. For those waiting to get your greedy little paws on the latest adventure of Shea and Fallon ahead of the release date, please keep reading.

Wayfarer's Keep, book 3 of the Broken Lands Series will be out on September 5. I've just put it up for preorder on all of the distributors except for Amazon so it should be live soon. The preorder for Amazon will go up later this month. I'll get you guys the links as they come available.

That means I'm finally ready to release the ARC to several lucky people. I'm going to do this the same way I did it last time. This method seemed to work well, and same rules apply. It will be first come, first serve. Once there are no more slots, that will be the end and there will be no more copies given.

Below is a link. Click on it and fill out the form. Once you've finished and submitted your email, you'll receive an email from me containing the link to download. The first thirty people to respond will receive a copy.

Good Luck!

Gateway to ARC