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The Necromancer’s Prisoner by Elric Shaw
Hearts of Allaria, Book 1
When Light meets Dark, the resulting conflagration may burn bright…or fizzle to ash.
Alistair became a paladin to honor his father’s legacy. While he’s never been particularly devout, he’s determined to live up to the responsibility of his station. His first solo mission sounded simple enough: purge the undead terrorizing a remote mountain village and bring the wicked necromancer controlling them to justice. But when he winds up captured, he begins to suspect that the village faces a far greater threat than a few skeletons…and that his strange captor might need protecting just as badly.
Paladins have hunted Ignatius his entire life. His crime—daring to be born with the wrong kind of magic. Ostracized from society, he has spent years on the run with only his undead for company. The mountains seemed like the perfect place to seek refuge for the winter…until an obnoxiously handsome paladin arrives on his doorstep. Ignatius expects to loathe Alistair like the rest of his arrogant kin; however, when a harsh winter storm forces them together, he finds himself opening up to the paladin in ways he’d never dreamed possible.
Alistair and Ignatius both have every reason not to trust the other. Alistair is a paladin of the Light while Ignatius is a necromancer of the Dark. Yet, as mysterious magic threatens to eradicate the nearby village, they have little choice except to combine forces if they hope to survive. But can a paladin and a necromancer really set aside their differences for the greater good…or will the rift between them prove impossible to ever bridge?
The Necromancer’s Prisoner is a standalone M/M fantasy romance novel set in the Hearts of Allaria shared universe.
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He didn’t wait to see how they reacted to his freedom. Before they could take a single step, he channeled dawnflame. Unlike before, however, he didn’t use it to conjure destructive flames. Instead, he released a blinding burst of light, brighter even than the midday sun.
Squeezing his eyes shut against the terrible radiance, he stepped carefully, following the mental map of the room he’d formed in his mind’s eye. With the dawnflame he’d recovered during the day, he should have enough to sustain the blinding light for a time, though he’d rather preserve what he could. Doubtless, he’d need more for other obstacles yet to come.
Rattling bones announced the undead moving around him as he crossed the room, but as he’d hoped, they appeared as blind as he was. He tried to give them a wide berth, though at one point he sensed movement and ducked right as an arm disturbed the air over his head.
Eager anticipation flooded him when his foot connected with the bottom of the stone stairs. Almost there! He carefully took one step up, then another, picturing the way the staircase spiraled along the outer wall. When he stepped and his foot found only empty air, he flailed, barely catching himself on the rough wall. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears as he flashed back to the previous night. Merciful Light, how embarrassing would it be to suffer another fall?
Perhaps it was time to regain his sight. He allowed the blinding brilliance of his dawnflame to fade. Blinking to clear his vision, he found that he stood about halfway up the curving stairs, his foot caught on a half-crumbled step. The five remaining undead still shuffled about on the floor below, searching for him in vain. As the light faded, however, all five pairs of roiling dark eyes fixed on him.
Cursing his hastiness in dismissing his spell, he dashed up the remaining steps and crashed into the door at the top. Momentary panic eased to relief when he found it unlocked. He threw open the door and emerged into what appeared to be a kitchen.
Pleasant heat radiated from a crackling fireplace. Judging by the delicious smells wafting through the space, this was where his meals had been cooked—and likely the necromancer’s as well. A sweeping glance revealed three more skeletons on this level. His eyes stuttered over one of the undead wearing a chef’s hat and wielding a cleaver.
What in the Light…?
Bones clattered from the stairwell behind him, and he shut the door, clicking its lock into place. That should hold them for a time, but not forever. He needed to move. The undead here either hadn’t yet noticed his presence or had dismissed him. Perhaps their orders didn’t include dealing with an intruder? Movement from his right sent him spinning around, a fistful of dawnflame at the ready. An undead horror stood there, holding up a…
Alistair blinked, taking in the metal tray piled high with roasted chestnuts. The absurdity of the situation suddenly struck him, and a wild giggle escaped his lips. Here he was, trying to flee from an evil necromancer while undead guards pounded at the door in pursuit and others offered him delicious snacks.
Merciful Light, what kind of necromancer has a dedicated chef?
Florida refugee living in upstate New York with his longtime boyfriend. World of Warcraft survivor. Dungeons & Dragons/Pathfinder aficionado. Lover of tea, Star Trek, all things fantasy, and sappy gay love stories (also Titanic).
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