Wednesday, 4 June 2014

'The Borderlands: Journey' - Prologue

Tomorrow I will be officially launching the first book of 'The Borderlands' trilogy.

We've had the cover reveal -


And now it's time for an excerpt. Below I have the prologue for you, which is quite different from the style of the rest of the story, but it sets the scene for the events that follow. I hope you enjoy it! It's not too late to get a free copy of the kindle book. Just sign up to my mailing list (in the side bar) and I will send you a kindle copy, free.

The Borderlands: Journey - Prologue


The traitor waited at the meeting place atop the mountain. Snow glimmered in the moonlight like dull diamonds. He blew warmth into his hands, rubbing them together as he paced. Time was scant.
“You’ve come, then.”
The voice came from behind, and the traitor jumped and spun. A man, cloaked and cowled, approached.
“What choice did I have?” The traitor’s voice wavered in the thin air.
The cloaked man laughed; his golden eyes just visible beneath the dark hood. “You had a choice. We all have choices.”
The traitor shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. “It’s freezing.”
“Perhaps you harbor doubt. This place is harsh.” The man gestured to the deep valleys and rapids. To the south an avalanche fell; its rumble came to them like lazy thunder.
The traitor eyed it all, and nodded. “I want to come back.”
“Then tell me where she is.” The man’s hiss echoed off the rock.
A shadow fell across the traitor’s brow. When he spoke, vapour billowed from his mouth. “You promise I will return? With all that I need?”
The hooded man inclined his head. “All shall be done.”
“And you won’t hurt her? I mean, she doesn’t even know …” 
The wind blew and lifted snow with it, cold and sharp as steel. The traitor fell to the ground; a great force pinned him down, embedding his face in the snow and thrusting it in. He tried to scream, but could only choke. Icy pain sunk into his teeth, his oesophagus, his stomach, every cell burnt with freeze.  
“I am not a patient man.” He could just hear the words, muffled, through the snow about his ears. “You need not be concerned with the girl.”
Finally, the pressure stopped and the traitor found he could lift his face to vomit out the snow. Tears streamed along his cheeks and froze in thin lines of ice that snapped when he grimaced. In the moonlight his hands were blue. A dark ribbon of blood now lay before him on the snow.  He managed to stand, teeth chattering. The hooded man stood as still as the mountain before him, eyes glowing.
“Now, tell me – where is she?”  His voice, a whisper in the wind.
The traitor closed his eyes and his forehead furrowed all the more, but the words formed and spilled out with the mist from his breath – treacherous words. “Scotland,” he croaked. “Glasgow. That’s all I know.”
He opened his eyes, but the hooded man had gone. He squinted into the night sky. A creature flew over the mountain, its silhouette just visible in the moonlight.

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