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Sorceress Star
The saga begun in Tyrant Moon and Heretic Sun continues...
When the heretic wizard Thraxis fled to barbarian lands, he had hoped to live the rest of his life in peace. But the Black Council, now led by his old nemesis Melilandra, are still driven by their lust for power. They will not rest until they have hunted down not only Thraxis, but also his daughter Dawn, a child of prophecy whose magic has the power to reshape their world.
As Melilandra's schemes spread death and destruction across the land, Thraxis and his barbarian wife Arrow must somehow find a way to stop a foe who seems invincible. And their only hope for survival may rest with a man who has vowed to kill them both...
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About the Author
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Elaine Corvidae has worked as an office assistant, archaeologist, and raptor rehabilitator. She is currently earning her Masters degree in Biology at the University of North Carolina-Charlotte. She lives near Charlotte, NC, with her husband and three cats. Her first published novel, Winter's Orphans, was the recipient of the 2001 Dream Realm Award and the 2002 Eppie Award.
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Excerpt
Thraxis awoke to find himself within a cave of snow. During the storm, the branches had bent under the weight, the snow piling up until it had formed a cozy shelter for any creature small enough to fit inside.
Still wearing the form of the raven, he used his beak to poke a hole in the snow that he could fit through. Behind him lay the sea he had crossed, and in front of him there stretched an expanse of tall grass, poking through the snow deposited by the storm. It went on as far as he could see, miles and miles of brown grass and white snow, its sameness seemingly interrupted only by a river in the distance, making its way down towards the sea.
The steppes in winter.
They will be in the river valleys, Arrow had said.
He stretched his wings cautiously; the muscles ached faintly. Rest had taken the edge off his physical exhaustion, but his reserves of magic were growing lower with every moment he wore the raven's shape. Unfortunately, changing back to a man for a while was no solution; the shape-shift itself took far more power than he would expend simply maintaining it for a few hours.
There's nothing else for it.
He followed the river inland, trying to keep in mind the directions Arrow had given him. But everything looked different from so high above the world, and he was no longer certain that he would be able to find his way.
I'll settle for finding another clan, if I have to. Hopefully they won't kill me the second I turn into a wizard again.
The vast steppe seemed empty of human life. The Skald built no permanent structures, content to go where their herds led them, and the clans jealousy guarded their pastures against the intrusion of rivals. Other creatures moved in the world, however: rabbits, mice, and birds. Vultures rode the wind with him, as did eagles, but both seemed entirely uninterested in his presence.
Otherwise, there was only the grass. League upon league of grass, days of grass, blurring into a single whole where every mile was identical to the last. He hid in it when he had to sleep, for there were few trees to perch in, and he flew over it during the day, until it seemed that his flight would be endless. He would go and go, and the grass would as well, until they both came to the very end of the world...
And then, in the midst of the unending brown and white landscape, a flash of color. The bay hides of horses, red in the weak winter sun, hundreds of them clustered grazing near the river. Beyond them were herds of the hornless cattle that the Skald bred, intermingled with a multitude of sheep.
The clan's yurts stood out like a rainbow to his color-starved eyes, the felt appliqué on them depicting humans and animals in vivid shades of green, blue, yellow, and red. Smoke from cooking fires rose on the wind, and he could make out dark shapes around them, gathering for the evening meal as the short day hurried to its close.
Thraxis had begun to angle towards them when he saw her. A lone woman stood well away from the yurts, her long black hair tangling on the breeze. She wore a knee-length, loose-sleeved coat, thick trousers, and heavy boots, all brightly appliquéd. Gold glittered in her ears and about her throat, and tiny gold plaques hung from her coat and belt. As he drew nearer, he saw that a priestess' tattoo marked one brown cheek, but that she had also painted white lines across her face from forehead to chin, and from ear to ear.
The priestess gave him a smile and lifted her arm. Startled, he nevertheless came to alight on her hand. Dark, almond-shaped eyes regarded him steadily, as if she knew things about him that no one else did.
"Welcome, Raven." Her voice was deep for a woman's, and held the faintest trace of amusement, as if life delighted her to the point of laughter. "The signs told me that you were coming. What news do you bring?"
No longer sure if he was dreaming or waking, he fluttered to the ground and finally let go of the raven's shape. The harsh cold stung his face unexpectedly, and he found himself on his hands and knees, his limbs trembling so that they would barely support him.
"A sorceress is coming...she means to kill you. To kill all the priestesses," he managed to say.
Then his strength gave out, and he fell unmoving to the ground.
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