Soul Weave
A. Nybo
Gay Fantasy Romance
Release Date: 03.10.20
Cover Artist: A. Nybo
Blurb
TREACHERY IS afoot among the wizards of Tangia. The wizard king bids his northern champion, Aquilon Tenista, to seek and destroy those responsible for the theft of the wizards’ mindseers. To shield his own mindseer from the thief, Aquilon needs a bag woven of thread spun from his soul in which his can hide. He solicits the aid of Lucien, a clan witch, to weave the bag.
A low-caste widower, Lucien is betrothed to his clan’s war leader. The only way he can delay the arranged marriage long enough to affect his escape is to accept Aquilon’s commission and join his quest.
Watching the enchanting spell weaver interact with the fiber of his soul is pure torment for Aquilon. As the attraction between the two men grow, a sinister presence within the magic cloth begins to emerge. Threads of the enemy’s deception must be severed if they are to have any hope of preventing war and saving their people.
HAVING HEARD Aquilon return, Lucien stood in the main room by Elder Tarkle and Ranoolf; all three watched Aquilon’s strange touching of the cloth. He rose from the loom stool, his face clouded with turbulent emotion.
He suddenly tore cross the room and, without so much as raising a protective arm, ran headlong into the closed door. With a dull thud, he bounced off it like stone off wood to land on his back. All three watched in stunned amazement as, semiconscious, Aquilon raised his knee and groaned. His knee fell sideways, his groan died in his throat, and he lay unmoving on the floor.
Ranoolf’s sigh broke Lucien’s astonishment, and he hurried to help. Congealed blood layered the gash on Aquilon’s arm, and fresh blood trickled from the wound on his forehead. Lucien looked up to see a splotch of blood on the door where Aquilon’s forehead had struck. Ranoolf undid Aquilon’s weapons belt and slid his hands beneath him before hefting him up into his arms.
While Ranoolf and Elder Tarkle took Aquilon to his bed and removed his boots and outer clothing, Lucien heated water to sterilize the wounds. Waiting for the water to boil, he lifted Aquilon’s weapons belt from the floor and, taking it by the fire, examined it.
Accustomed to seeing Ranoolf’s weapons belt, Lucien thought little of the blood-encrusted knives. One axe carried short brindle hairs stuck to both haft and blade. The edge was dulled and a small nick in it carried a fine meaty thread.
A. Nybo lives in Western Australia. She believes the perfect recipe for reality includes imagining, creating, chocolate and coffee. Amounts and tools for each vary for any given day, but the magic is in the making. Her perfect creative storm is fired by music, travel, nature, and the ever-expanding dimensions of the mind.
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