Sneak Preview of CoG: Guardian

Work is going very well on the second novel in the City of The Gods series. D’Molay’s adventures continue as he continues the quest to bring Circe’s head to the water god Glaucus. He will need the help of old friends and new ones to succeed. Here’s a sneak peek.

Chapter 6 - The Cursed and the Blessed

D’Molay was tempted to throw his fishing pole into the lake as another in an endless stream of gnats tried to crawl into his eye. Instead, he rammed the end of the useless stick between his knees and reached for Quan’s pipe. Perhaps a cloud of smoke would keep the bugs away, or even encourage them to go chew on Quan instead. As he loaded the pipe, he shot a suspicious look at Mazu’s favored man. He still couldn’t see why Mazu placed such a high value on him. Perhaps his pure loyalty was cause enough; but sometimes D’Molay felt Quan was up to something. In camp this morning he could have sworn he’d heard him opening his pack. Yet when he turned to check, Quan was napping in the boat, nowhere near D’Molay’s belongings.

Right now Quan was busy detaching a fish from his line and tossing it into a bucket already populated by earlier trophies. The boat barely rocked as the fisherman worked. D’Molay noted his skill and ease on the water with a touch of jealousy. Quan met his gaze and a grin spread across his face.

“That’s five fish, Freeman,” he said. “I’ll let you eat one.”

“Two,” D’Molay bargained. “Mazu says I’m still too thin.”

“She can’t see how fat you are under that heavy coat.” He hiked the long tail of his own thin silk shirt up around his hips as he settled in front of the bucket. Quan shook a long finger at D’Molay to caution him. “I hope you can float. Not even good Mazu could save you if you fall into the lake with that weight on your back.”

“My coat is made of wool, not lead,” D’Molay said wearily. “And it keeps me warm.”

Quan began to clean the catch, his small knife glinting brightly. “I am not cold. I am the most blessed one of the goddess,” he said smugly. D’Molay couldn’t argue. If a different man was clad only in the silk threads that covered Quan, the day’s biting wind would reduce him to a huddle of shivering flesh. He listened stoically as Quan soliloquized further about his favored status, fighting the urge to dispute the man’s inflated view of himself. Quan was still talking when D’Molay heard the yell from shore.

“Quiet,” he interrupted. The men listened. The voice called out again, allowing D’Molay to pinpoint its source. A woman was wading at the water’s edge, holding out a sign and waving to the boats. Her dress was short and she’d shrugged out of its sleeves, tying them up under her breasts. When she noticed D’Molay and Quan looking at her, she held the placard higher and called out something that was lost in the brisk wind.

“What does it say?” Quan asked. D’Molay finally felt a flash of superiority over his traveling companion. Quan could not read.

“It says ‘I’m hungry’ in the old English tongue. Poor choice of language. Who can read that in Olympia?”

“You.”

D’Molay turned back to Quan as he felt the boat rock a bit. The fisherman had set aside the knife and the fish and was reaching for the oars. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you over so you can give her one of your fish,” he said.

D’Molay was flabbergasted by Quan’s presumption. “What if I don’t want to?”

“You want to,” Quan dismissed. “Besides, she’s pretty. And I’m handsome.”

D’Molay bit down on the pipe irritably as Quan rowed them toward the girl. As boring as their wait was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to make it less so by engaging random wanderers on the shore. The last time he helped a girl he stumbled across hadn’t turned out so well.

When it became obvious to the woman that the boat was headed her way, a broad smile broke out across her face. She stepped out of the water and pointed toward a sandy shelf that was a good place for the craft to pull in. D’Molay looked beyond the potential harbor to the woods, suspicious of a trap. He reached out to Quan’s arm and made him stop rowing before they got too close.

“Who are you?” D’Molay called out.

“My name is Everild.” Her voice was strong, with a faint Celtic accent to it. “Do you have any food?”

“We do,” D’Molay said. “But with a little industry you could get your own. There are berries to your left, and this lake is full of fish.”

“If you can catch them,” Quan needled. D’Molay gripped his arm a little tighter to pay him back for the jibe.

“I can’t,” she insisted. “Look.”

Everild stretched out her hand to a bush that hung heavy with fruit. The moment her fingers came near a berry, it disappeared. D’Molay, unconvinced of her plight, suspected some sleight of hand.

“Do it again,” he demanded.

She grabbed an entire branch. Every berry on it vanished. But this time D’Molay noticed that the fruit had instantaneously reappeared on another part of the bush.

“The wizard at New Camelot punished me for stealing food,” Everild said bitterly. “Now I can only eat what another freely gives.”

“Surely you can buy food. Freely give me a coin, and I’ll freely give you a fish,” D’Molay proposed.

Everild’s shoulders slumped. “I cannot barter coin or body or soul,” she said, reaching into the fabric tied about her chest and pulling out a coin. “I am cursed. Try to take it from me.”

“Let me,” Quan said, rowing again energetically. “I am blessed.”

A few moments later he was out of the boat and next to Everild. She stood passively with the coin in her outstretched palm. Quan touched her hand only to find that the piece of copper was stuck tightly to her flesh.

“What if you – ”

Everild anticipated Quan’s suggestion and dropped the coin onto the pebbled shore. He knelt to grab it, but it vanished before his knees hit the ground. He looked up at Everild, who was again holding the coin sadly between thumb and forefinger. D’Molay watched all of this and felt pity for Everild, even if she was a self-admitted thief.

“Please. I’m hungry.”

“You’re in luck,” D’Molay said. “So am I. And I happen to have an extra fish.”

[end excerpt]

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