Exerpt

Marcia, your wish is my command…..

Here is another excerpt from the book I am currently editing – THE PRINCE’S SON, sequel to THE PRINCE’S MAN.

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Bay Iberian

When Rustam gave a small whistle, the bay stallion ghosted out of the early morning shadows.

Rustam ran a hand along the stallion’s muscular crest, his fingers sliding through the cascade of black mane to the warm sleekness of the silky hair beneath. “I really hate to do this, boy, but you’ll have to stay behind this time.”

A pair of huge, dark eyes regarded Rustam with reproach before Fleetfoot shook his head vigorously, long strands of mane whipping from side to side to slap Rustam sharply across the face. “Ouch! I’m sorry, really I am, but even you can’t climb a goat trail; I need you here, to keep the others safe. They can’t look after themselves the way you can.”

Fleetfoot heaved a large sigh and rubbed his forehead against Rustam’s shoulder. Leaning into the equine embrace, Rustam caught sight of one of the grooms rolling his eyes to the sky. Crazy, that’s what they thought he was. He smiled privately and kept his silence. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t see the tiny bit of magic flowing between him and the magnificent animal. When the lads talked to their charges they communicated with tone of voice and a few easy words, achieving a level of trust and affection any human might gain with a horse. But for Rustam’s entire life it had been so much more than that. The ease with which, even as a child, he’d been able to catch the naughtiest ponies; the calmness he’d instilled in the wild black mare no one else could handle, and the way that over the years of their service together Nightstalker had always sensed where he was, and when she was needed.

It wasn’t until they journeyed into Shiva that Rustam understood it to be an attribute of his elven blood; he was a Horsemaster in more than mere words. Now, with a Shivan bred steed, that link was even closer.

“You know they think I’m soft in the head for talking to you, don’t you?” Fleetfoot snorted; horsey laughter if ever Rustam had heard it. He slapped the hard-muscled red shoulder. “It’s not funny!” He shook his head, drawing the dark thread of his thoughts back together. “No, nothing about this is funny.”

He stared into the liquid depths of eyes turned wary. “I need you to keep this lot safe, hear me? I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, or if you’ll be secure here. Watch over them, for me, yes?”

Fleetfoot snorted again, head nodding up and down. Rustam draped an arm over the stallion’s withers and bent forward to bury his face in the abundant mane. With his eyes shut, he inhaled the glorious scent of horse, and felt his muscles relax. He was leaving the caravan with the best possible guard he could arrange, in the absence of a small army.

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For those of you who have read THE PRINCE’S MAN, never fear, Nightstalker is only absent on maternity leave 😉

CIMG2427 And here I am with another hobbit hole 😉

Deborah Jay writes fast-paced fantasy adventures featuring quirky characters and multi-layered plots – just what she likes to read.

Living mostly on the UK South coast, she has already invested in her ultimate retirement plan – a farmhouse in the majestic, mystery-filled Scottish Highlands where she retreats to write when she can find time. Her taste for the good things in life is kept in check by the expense of keeping too many dressage horses, and her complete inability to cook.

Jay’s debut novel, epic fantasy THE PRINCE’S MAN, won a UK Arts Board award, and was an Amazon Hot 100 New Release. Second in the series, THE PRINCE’S SON is due out this summer.

Her Urban fantasy, DESPRITE MEASURES, is the opening novel of the projected five book CALEDONIAN SPRITE SERIES, and the stand alone short story SPRITE NIGHT is also now available.

In 2014 she published the multi-author SFF anthology, THE WORLD AND THE STARS, which features her SF short story PERFECT FIT.

She is also the author of several non-fiction equestrian titles published in her professional name of Debby Lush.

Find out more about Deborah at http://deborahjayauthor.com/ or follow Deborah on twitter, facebook, Pinterest and Goodreads.

Ten-year-old Rabbit has finally made his way out of the wilderness and has been taken in by Sarah and MacKenzie Cole, while they decide what to do about him. (They have very different ideas on that score.) It’s his first morning at what he has nicknamed Angel House, and everything is new and wondrous to him.

Chapter 7

Is It Like Lightnin’, Then?

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EARLY SUNDAY MORNING
APRIL 28, 2013
DAY 1 AT ANGEL HOUSE

“IS IT LIKE lightnin’, then? This here ‘lectricity stuff?” Rabbit was staring at the overhead fixture again, still trying to grasp the concept of being able to flip a switch and have light flood the room. Of everything that had caught his attention—and almost everything in the house had—that was the one thing he kept coming back to. And hot water on tap, of course.

Mac sat at the end of the island, sipping coffee and trying not to get pulled into the conversation, but I knew he was listening as I tried again to explain.

“I don’t know exactly how it all works, but I’m pretty good at knowing how to put it to use. The electricity is harnessed and then sent out through wires and into our house. And then we can use it to make things light up, or heat up, or cool down. If you do it right, it’s wonderful, but you have to be careful with electrical things, so you don’t accidentally get shocked.”

“You mean like it’d get away from you if you wasn’t careful? I seen what lightnin’ can do when it hits trees an’ such. It’s a powerful thing, an’ it can kill, too. Seen a deer what was struck by lightnin’ once. Burnt him pretty bad, but we ate us some venison for days after.” Continue reading →