The Axe and the Throne (Bounds of Redemption Book 1)
Page 60
Elise shifted sight to her eldest son. Titon was much changed, but much the same, choosing to weather the storm with his nose in a book. He’d spent the past two weeks regaining both strength and wisdom, encouraged mostly by his pungent friend the tanner’s son. It was in the tanner’s home where Titon now read, though he had already begun the construction of his own self-inspired shelter. Elise did not lament that he now visited her less frequently and for little duration. For a young man ever in search of knowledge, a lifeless, unfamiliar mother did not provide much toward that aim.
With some reluctance, she turned her gaze to her other Titon—the one she had earlier watched chase an army into and out from its own castle walls. Ripe with conquest, he shared in the spoils of war with his men: pilfered food, drink, and cheer, but not in pilfered pleasure…as she half wished he might. Her faithful husband’s devotion was as unyielding as his axe, and witnessing it time and again only cut her deeper. You must never know my reasons, she said to him in her thoughts, apologizing for both a decade of deceit and a century to come.
She tore her gaze away from him now, convinced that the strengthened winds would not cause him any danger, and focused on her task. The dark gale ripped through her as she stood beside their now-frozen stream, alone and safe from prying eyes. She could not call a storm, nor could she add to its total strength, but she could hasten it…shape it…guide it—into something far more fleeting and intense. She felt the energy of it flow through her, a sensation neither elating nor unpleasant, as she pulled it from its northern source. Decker was too near the origin to be greatly affected by the concentration of power, a week’s worth of rage condensed into a day of wrath, but those south of her would feel it true.
So fixated was she on her effort, she did not realize until it was too late that she had begun to weep. Tearless and silent, she poured out her sorrow so that it may be carried away with the snow and pine. It seemed a lifetime since she had last expressed an emotion, and in truth, doing so brought her no relief. She hardened herself, redoubling her focus and thwarting the weakness she knew accompanied lack of restraint. You are the only one to blame, she scolded herself, then swallowed hard one final time, burying the entirety of her anguish back within—back where it belonged. She was a stone, once again, and so she vowed remain.
FROM THE AUTHOR
You are a brave reader to have invested so much of your time in an unproven book by an unknown author, and I thank you for that. Unfortunately, bravery is a rare trait outside of fantasy. The vast majority of readers will not even bother to skim the always-inadequate blurb, let alone crack the virtual cover of such a book. This poses a huge hurdle for new authors, specifically those with enough respect for their readers to insist on having their books professionally edited prior to publishing, which is quite expensive.
My plea to you is this: if you enjoyed this book, if it was worth your hours of reading, then please spend a moment more and let it be known. All reviews are greatly appreciated, as they not only bring in more readers, but help in allowing me to justify the immense amount of time spent on this not-exactly-profitable endeavor of writing epic fantasy.
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Book 1: The Axe and the Throne
Book 2: Tides of the Realm
Book 3: Title Pending
www.MDIreman.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My sincerest thanks to my editor, Jessica Augustsson, who was instrumental in the alchemy that turned a manuscript into something much more; to my readers, whose enthusiasm has been heartening; and to the fantasy writers with truly inspired tales involving more than an orphaned hero destined to save the world. And perhaps to the few who are able to retell that story so well that it is still a joy to read.
DEDICATION
To My Wife
LEGAL
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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