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    Gate of Thorns
    Gate of Thorns
    Gate of Thorns
    Ebook49 pages72 hours

    Gate of Thorns

    By J.C. Merrill

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    About this ebook

    Two fugitives flee across the Plains of Thirst. One is Almakai, former God-Queen of Maseko, now stripped of her immortality. The other is Elosha, once aming her junior consorts, now her last remaining husband. An uneasy alliance of shapeshifters, spurred by a foreign power, pursues Alma and Elosha through punishing country. Alma must rediscover how to be mortal, and Elosha must remember how to be human. Trapped and facing overwhelming odds, they must decide whether their changing relationship can survive desperation, bloodshed, and twisted magic.

    'Gate of Thorns' is a novelette, the second volume of the Songs of Esoka, directly following the events of 'Bone Dancer's War.'

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ.C. Merrill
    Release dateAug 1, 2015
    ISBN9781310507809
    Gate of Thorns
    Author

    J.C. Merrill

    J.C. Merrill is the author of the Songs of Esoka, a series of fantasy novelettes and novellas set in a world with African roots.J.C. Merrill is a pen name for Jonathan Olfert, whose short fiction and non-fiction have been published in various markets and under various names. He has an M.A. in political science, an enduring fascination with Africa, and possibly too much interest in necromancy.

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      Book preview

      Gate of Thorns - J.C. Merrill

      Gate of Thorns

      Book Two of the Songs of Esoka

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2015 J.C. Merrill

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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      Gate of Thorns

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      Gate of Thorns: A Tale of the Bone Dancer

      High above jagged rocks, too high to fall and live, the trail narrowed and slanted away to nothingness. It arrived at this conclusion irregularly, so when the trap sank in, even a long scramble back along the rock face wouldn't have put Elosha halfway to a reliable foothold. It had been nobody's fault, but his gut — currently suspended a warbow's shot above the rocks — wanted to blame Almakai. She was the mountaineer; this was nothing like his youth in the back alleys of Maseko and Marun Sal Sesh. She should have known they were in over their heads.

      Elosha bit that back. It made marginal sense and would make things worse. Besides, entertain those thoughts and she'd see it in his eyes. Seven years of marriage, even an unconventional marriage, and she could read him fairly well. Belly flat against the sandstone, every breeze or stray movement pulling him toward the long fall, he glanced back at her.

      The ornate geometric tattoo of the God-Queen of Maseko covered her temples and cheekbones, blue-black against dark skin. Since the last full moon, she'd lost godhood, throne, and all her other husbands. Everything but him and the tattoo. On a good day she could have scaled this rock face blindfolded, but some kinds of fatigue didn't go away. She offered him half a smile; it didn't reach her eyes. She said something that he couldn't hear over the wind.

      What?

      Alma grimaced and spoke up, pressing herself against the sandstone. There's a ridge above us, she said without noticeable optimism.

      The rock scraped his chin as he craned his neck up. His lower back seized in a visceral panic, a back-and-forth swaying that threatened to skid his feet out from under him.

      There was, he admitted to himself, a very good chance that this was his fault.

      I think I see it.

      I can get you up there from where I'm standing, she said. Her posture was half a crouch, slanted toward her near foot. Put your right where your left is, put your left on my knee. I've got a good anchor for that foot and the opposite hand.

      I can… But he didn't have the option of offering her the same. There was nothing stable about his position right now; he could barely trust his slanted, gritty footholds for one, let alone two.

      No, you can't, she said, resignation half-veiled in her voice, and his gut twisted. Careful didn't begin to describe how he slid back toward her and put his weight on her knee. She grunted. Elo. Go.

      His fingers found a seam, out of sight. For an embarrassing, terrifying moment he was sure he didn't have the strength to pull himself up. Inch by inch, his elbows and chest began to slide up over a rough edge that barely merited the name. Even when he was flat on his back, he couldn't stop shaking.

      I'm up, he called over the edge. He rolled over and crawled on his elbows, far enough that he could just see the back of her head. Beneath her, the Bitterroot

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