Light of the Gods by Miriam Newman

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In ages gone by, the gods of the mountains had split the earth in two. Now that passage must form a barrier against invaders. Javrik, clan chieftain’s son, has known his wife for only a month when he must defend her. Arman, soldier from a far-off land, finds himself fighting for people he never knew existed. The lives of nomads, raiders, warriors and lovers are changed forever in the shadow of Grandfather Mountain.

 

 

 

 

 

Read an Excerpt

It was a happy homecoming group at table that night although, inevitably, most people spoke of war.

“These are good,” Javrik acknowledged, sitting next to Sarai with his brother on his other side, both of them eating her sweet rolls. The only rule of the home seemed to be that the men must leave their boots on the porch, to save cleaning for the women. But she could see that her husband had changed into clean clothes, and washed his beard and his hair. They still curled faintly, looking like spun gold as they dried. In a crowd of men coming in, many with wives and children, he stood out.

It was pretty clear, though, that Jerisi held court.

“Sarai‘s father,” he told the assemblage, “returned to prepare stone throwers.”

There was a murmur of approval.

“You have the timber and rope to make them.” He spoke directly to her, but obviously to everyone else as well. “And the rocks. We will harvest rocks from your ground like a crop and shoot them from atop Grandfather Mountain and Little Man on anyone below.”

He rubbed his hands gleefully, provoking a laugh at the table. “That should take out a good number.”

“What else can they throw?” someone asked.

“Oh, pretty much anything. Flaming balls of pitch. Severed heads.”

The laughter this time was robust.

“UGGHHH!” Most of the women protested, but they, too, were laughing.

Jerisi, already well into his cups, raised a tankard. “Drink to their deaths, my friends!”

So, this was war. Unconsciously, Sarai leaned towards Javrik, who was less inebriated than some others—but not much.

“Ugly stuff, isn‘t it?” he commiserated. “And I‘m afraid you haven‘t seen anything yet.”

“And I thought you were the civilized ones,” she teased. “That‘s what they tell us in the mountains.”

“Oh, no.” He leaned back. “We only pretend.”

She had dressed for dinner in the bright colors the other women favored, and worn her hair as Sange suggested, intricately braided and held with rich-looking combs. Well, she had fed him, gotten him drunk, dressed like a woman looking for attention...there was only one thing left to try. If he rejected her again, she didn‘t know what she would do. A woman might have an abusive husband or a drunken one, which was bad enough. But to have one who simply didn‘t care about you was the kiss of death, since you were shackled to him for life.

“Where do we sleep tonight?” she asked, letting her leg touch his beneath the shelter of the table.

“Upstairs,” he said, not moving his leg. “Do you want me to show you?”

At last, she thought. The man was not made of stone, after all. Her fingers curled anxiously inside her palms, but the weight and warmth against her thigh was very real.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, I do want that.”

About the Author:

Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I was published in poetry before catching the romance writing bug. I bring that background to my writing along with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year career in various areas of psychiatric social services and many trips to Ireland, where I nurture my muse. My published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy historical, futuristic, science fiction and historical romance. Currently I live in rural Pennsylvania with a “motley crew” of rescue animals. You can see my books at my website.

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