PREVIEW: FROM WHENCE IT CAME

Ok, so book 3 of our elves series is set to release sometime around the end of the year. I for one am looking forward to it. Enjoy this sneak peek.

Tavis Halfhand drew his sword with a mighty heave, the iron blade singing as it tore free. Drawing a steady breath, the hero watched as a pack of goblins, their green skin dripping ooze and filth as they slavered and growled for his blood. Ancient enemies, the goblins had long fangs and sharp claws. Armed with spears, no more than sharpened sticks, and natural hatred, they inched closer one step at a time. The ground bubbled and melted where their saliva struck, sending shivers up Tavis’ spine. His hands began to sweat. His muscles quiver.

A cold wind blew from below. The stone bridge, barely a meter wide, spanned a chasm of a hundred feet and plunged deep into the earth. Impenetrable darkness leered, beckoning all to join it in eternity. Tavis struggled with his natural fear of heights, attempting to strengthen his need for survival in the moment. Gripping his sword tighter, he prepared for the battle of his life and, if done poorly, his last.

The goblins roared as one and charged. Tavis summoned the depths of his courage, bellowed in kind, and met the charge the only way he knew how. With blood and steel.

Sarah Thomas closed the laptop and shook her head. “How can anyone read this?”

She long thought her soldier turned author husband could have spent his time more productively, but indulged in his dreams, if for no other reason than to give him a creative outlet after he left the army. Being an army spouse wasn’t easy, and she soon learned that once the army was done with you, they closed the door and locked it. She and Daniel had been stranded for years. It pained her seeing him wander through daily chores listless, without purpose. For so long he’d devoted his life to a cause, an entity, only to have the rug pulled from under him after he exited the service.

He struggled for years, leaning on her to carry the weight as he failed to find work and only made a meager pension in disability benefits. Yet for every time the walls closed in, Daniel found a way to step up and beat back the storm. He took care of the kids while she traveled, did the drop off and pick up their private school, spent countless hours driving one kid or the other to a different sporting event. All without complaint. He needed the rigidity, if for no other reason than to cling to that slender thread holding him together.

It wasn’t until a buddy suggested hitting the local American Legion post for the monthly fish fry, which he reluctantly agreed to, that he realized what he’d been missing. Sara watched the old Daniel return then, brimming with confidence and the swagger she fell in love with all those years ago. He blossomed, opening up in ways she hadn’t seen in years. Their relationship benefited and so too did his writing. Daniel’s perseverance at his craft resulted in a fledgling writing career, until the sparkly vampire trend whipped the rug out from under him.

Instead of retreating into his shell, Daniel plunged headfirst into the challenge. Sara saw that old spark return and felt satisfied for the first time in years. His popularity in the genre reignited with his last novel. How couldn’t it, considering many of the situations and experiences he wrote about had happened during that strange night spent among creatures who, by every stretch of the imagination, shouldn’t exist? She stood at his side through book signings and speaking engagements, all while failing to comprehend the allure of what he did. Daniel often told fans she was his biggest supporter but worst fan. He wasn’t wrong.

Sara never developed the taste for what she deemed silly fantasy. Elves and gnomes. Bah. They were best left to cartoons and children’s tales, not grown men with families and lives of their own. At least so she thought until she was kidnapped by agents of the queen of the dark elves. While her darling husband viewed that fateful night as validation, she found it harrowing on a primal level.

Yawning, she leaned back in the chair and stretched her arms over her head. The audible snapping of bones readjusting made the dog’s head lift from its comfortable spot at her feet. She looked down and smiled. She’d never been a dog person before Daniel and had barely heard of a Bernese Mountain Dog, but now, after owning four over the course of their relationship, Sara couldn’t imagine a day without them. Even if they were more work than both of her children combined. The dog gave that content grunt as Sara scratched the back of its ears.

“We really need to get him to write about something else, don’t we?” Sara said.

The dog cocked its head, as if silently contemplating the deeper meaning to life and how best to answer.

Alone and in an empty house, Sara only just realized she’d taken to talking to the dogs. She pretended they understood her, offering their unique counsel to her running commentary on daily events. As if doing laundry after a hard day’s work offered a mental challenge. A quick glance out the window showed the first waves of darkness settling. Her stomach growled in emphasis. Giving the dog a last pet, sara headed for the kitchen.

She didn’t like being alone. Not after nearly being killed in her own bathroom as the fallout from their romp across half of North Carolina played out. If not for the taciturn gargoyle, Norman Guilt, Sara might never have slept with the lights off again. Daniel’s military training offered consolation, but the sturdiness of her adopted guardian calmed her nerves with a mere thought. Not that she had any reason to fear. Since that night she hadn’t seen or heard from any elf or dwarf or whatchamacallit. At least that she knew of. The fact they blended in with the rest of the world, going unnoticed by almost all, left her rattled.

Frowning with how easily she slipped back into the old mindset after reading a few paragraphs, and face it, she couldn’t plunge more than that into Daniel’s stories, Sara stalked into the kitchen. A pair of wagging tails in search of their expected treats flanking her. Daylight’s fading kiss streamed in through her kitchen windows, basking her face in the last heat of the day as she cycled through her options for dinner. With the kids off to her sister’s for the weekend and Daniel being pressed into service with DESA, Sara realized she could do whatever she wanted. Placing the package of chicken cutlets back in the refrigerator, she snatched up her phone and dialed their favorite pizza joint.

Both dogs stared up at her expectantly, giving her pause. “You guys really like pizza, huh?”

Tails wagged harder in response, leaving her questioning just how much dogs understood. After placing her order, Sara opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass. No matter what she did, little managed to keep her mind off of Daniel. His hasty departure left her numb. They’d gone years without hearing from Agent Blackmere or any other mysterious figure associated with the elf clans. She spied Guilt’s Challenger from time to time, a subtle reminder he continued watching over her, but that was it.

What should have been a crowning moment in Daniel’s literary career, his first local bookstore signing, turned dark with Blackmere’s arrival and request for help. True to form, Daniel leapt at the chance, though he professed his hands were tied and he did so only reluctantly. She knew better. They’d met during the end of his time in the Army but she’d learned enough over the past two decades that he ached to get back in a uniform and be productive again. Civilian life never suited him and, no matter how much he attempted to convince himself, he missed his time in uniform.

That quiet boundary hovered between, nestling like an impassable divide. For her part, Sara failed to understand the appeal. She watched him suffer, helpless to do much more than offer a shoulder to lean on. Daniel had been home for years and continued sitting with his back to the wall, remained standoffish around people who hadn’t served, and often retreated into his shell during difficult times. Her heart ached for him, even if he refused to acknowledge it. Proud and determined to wrestle his demons, Daniel deserved more than a hasty summons in the middle of the night.

His headstrong attitude and the chance to once more prove himself, for reasons she failed to understand, saw him heading back home on a covert mission. That Daniel couldn’t tell her about it left an ill flavor in her mouth. She’d heard stories of how the military was forbidden from telling their families where they were going after receiving deployment orders but never figured it applied to their civilian lives. Displeased and pondering how much of her tongue she wanted to give him upon his return, Sara stewed over her wine.

“Where are you, Daniel?” she asked.

One of her dogs brushed against her thigh, pushing just enough to let her know he had her back if she needed it. Sara found comfort in their dogs, often treating them equal to their children. Acknowledging she spent far too many hours talking with them, she decided the best thing was to head upstairs and take a nice bath. Few things provided better relief from the day’s stress. Draining her glass and grabbing the bottle, Sara headed for the stairs.

The sun dipped below the horizon, allowing a flood of quasi-darkness to sweep in as a light storm broke. Sara found the change disturbing, but only because she knew what lurked in the dark. If half of Daniel’s stories were true, from the dragon living under downtown Raleigh to a giant wearing tie-dye, she doubted a locked door and a gun was enough to stop whoever Morgen sent after her. Growing frustrated with the dark direction her thoughts burrowed, Sara did an about face to lock the front door.

She just laid a hand on the cold metal when the doorbell made her jump. Red wine sloshed over the cup’s lip, spilling on the hardwood floor while soliciting a mild curse. Heart fluttering, she licked the wine from her finger and set the glass down. Imagination running wild, Sara hated the intensity their lives developed in the wake of that night. Every day was spent looking over her shoulder, expecting one of the elves, or worse, to come for her. She needed a vacation, somewhere far from the political games and internal strife of the elf clans.

Shaking her head, golden locks sweeping across her face, Sara unlocked the door and cracked it open. What she found, standing on her front step soaking wet from the rain, went beyond anything she imagined, or wanted to see. Disinclined to think ill of the matter, she spied the wrapped hilt of what could only be a sword poking over the small man’s right shoulder.

“Can I help you?” Her voice cracked.

For his part, the man bobbed his head with obvious gratitude. “Ms. Thomas?”

“Mrs. My husband will be home shortly if you would care to come back later,” she corrected, hoping that was enough to make him leave.

“My apologies, but I’m not here for him. I’ve come a long way to see you, Mrs. Thomas. This is a matter of grave importance that concerns us all. My name is Abner Grumman and I need your help.”

Caught off guard, Sara struggled against the urge to slam the door in his face and lock it. With both dogs barking in the background, she felt herself being mired in chaos. Lightning sparked in the distance, followed closely by the dissatisfied rumble of thunder. Every instinct screamed for her to close the door. Danger oozed from this man in hidden waves, nauseating her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grumman, you have the wrong house,” she said hurriedly and moved to slam the door.

Abner whipped the sword from his back, waving it in her direction. His pleading look verged on tears. “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

“Lady, open the fucking door and let us in. Can’t you see it’s raining?”