Witch Queen’s War
by Eric Asher
Publication date: September 28th 2017
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
by Eric Asher
Publication date: September 28th 2017
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
BLURB
There’s
a turning point in every war, but I didn’t expect this one to be in my front
yard. Allies of the Fae king have moved against the military stationed in Saint
Charles. Our unsteady alliances are threatening to fracture, providing the
water witches and vampires an opportunity to strike. With losses on both sides,
things are far more dire than we realized, and the return of a long-forgotten
enemy has made that clear. Thankfully, I know a very grumpy parrot.
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—
EXCERPT:
Streets
filled with fear and terror and blood. This wasn’t what our home was supposed
to be. No matter how close war had come before, no matter what we’d fought on
the streets of Saint Charles, we’d always managed to keep the commoners safe.
The
tourists weren’t the only beings in danger here. The military had seen too many
Fae, too many things they didn’t understand. Now they were targeting our
allies, and in that action, they were targeting their own allies. They’d set
their sights on the Fae who stood with the commoners.
I
raised my hand in a useless protest, too far away to reach anyone in time.
The
tank fired.
Flames
and death and smoke screamed from the barrel of that awful weapon. Aeros raised
his fists, and a u-shaped wall of stone sprang up between him and the shell.
The wall cracked in the following explosion, sending waves of shrapnel and
debris into the air. Angus had barely escaped, grabbing two of the kids who had
been too close to the line of fire, and launching into the air with them.
One
of the kids he’d had to leave behind screamed and went down, clutching his leg.
Aeros glanced at the child, then turned back to face the tank. The Old God
dropped into the earth, vanishing into a circle of green light. The tank
adjusted its aim, centering on the wall.
The
next shot might take the wall of stone, but it was going to kill the half dozen
people sheltering behind it too. If they thought firing on the wall would hurt
Aeros, they were wrong.
“No!”
I shouted, sprinting forward. If I could get close enough, raise a shield, do
something. I wasn’t that fast. No one was that fast. “Run!”
Angus
dove back into the panicked crowd.
A
loud thunk sounded from the tank, the same sound I’d heard before the first
shot. I wasn’t going to make it to them in time. Where the hell was Aeros?
He
answered with a fury, rising beneath the tank. One stony fist grabbed the
barrel and bent it toward the ground before Aeros flipped the tank over and
slammed it into the earth. Stone flowed over the armored metal shell, and the
tank screeched as Aeros tore it apart.
“They
are children!”
the Old God roared. “My stone will bear your names for all time, and the world
shall call you monsters.”
“Aeros,
no!” I shouted.
He
paused with his fist raised above the exposed soldiers, his eyes flashing
between me and the terrified men below him.
“Don’t
kill them,” I said.
“He’s
dead!” A voice screamed, cracking and rising into hysteria. I turned to see a
child tugging at the arm of an older man. The child’s wails were the endless,
undefined cries of a survivor. There are the cries of grief, and then there are
the primal chords of loss no person can put into words. These were the
hiccupping, terrible sobs of lives broken, and a world that would never be the
same.
“Murderers.”
Aeros turned away from the soldiers and looked down at me. “They should be held
accountable. Would you not slay them if they were Fae or vampire?” He walked
back toward the screaming boy.
I
stepped up onto the flattened edge of the tank. “Okay, look, that’s a big
talking rock who wants to kill you now. Congratulations on pulling that off.
You also just murdered someone’s grandfather, so screw you very much. Now …” I
called on the dead things around me, let the decayed ruin of the gravemakers
flow up from the earth to coat my arms and chest. “I suggest you get your tanks
the hell out of here before I decide to let my friend flatten you like tin
cans.”
The
nearest soldier’s hand reached for his sidearm. All he found was a mangled
strip of metal.
I
let the gravemaker chaff close over my head. “Draw that gun, and I’ll eat your
soul.”
The
man next to him had a smarter approach. He placed his hand on his companion’s
arm, preventing any further attempts to draw his weapon. When the first man
tried to protest again, the smart one grew more forceful.
“Stop
it. Don’t you see the thing standing in front of us? Do you want to hug your
family again, or you want to die here?”
The
man with the gun stopped fidgeting. I backed away, letting them climb out of
the ruined tank. The wails of the child behind me cut through the silence of
the men before me.
“Never
forget that sound.” I turned away at that point, not wanting to see what the
men would do. Or maybe I just didn’t care anymore. How had it come to this in
just five days?
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Author Info
Eric is a former bookseller,
guitarist, and comic seller currently living in Saint Louis, Missouri. A
lifelong enthusiast of books, music, toys, and games, he discovered a love for
the written word after being dragged to the library by his parents at a young
age. When he is not writing, you can usually find him reading, gaming, or
buried beneath a small avalanche of Transformers.
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