Marya: Anchorage Book 1
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MSCRBK0000029
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By Sandra C. Stixrude
Anchorage Series
Release Date: March 8, 2014
Word Count: 100,300
Cover Art: Catherine Dair
Traveling has always frightened Marya, but when the Ktar chooses her to protect the heir on his confirmation journey, she fights panic. A prophecy concerning the heir's death, ominous dreams of a mysterious city, and news that one of the heir's companions will betray him all point to disaster.
Unfortunately, the discovery of the assassin's identity is only the beginning. His menace pales in comparison to the ancient evil lurking in the mountains. When Marya is trapped and the men with her enslaved, she is faced with two choices: surrender to the alien being who offers her power, or ally with the handsome assassin she sought to thwart. One way she loses her soul, the other she may lose her heart.
Genre: Science Fiction, Mainstream
Also available in paperback for $11.99.
Anchorage Series
Release Date: March 8, 2014
Word Count: 100,300
Cover Art: Catherine Dair
Traveling has always frightened Marya, but when the Ktar chooses her to protect the heir on his confirmation journey, she fights panic. A prophecy concerning the heir's death, ominous dreams of a mysterious city, and news that one of the heir's companions will betray him all point to disaster.
Unfortunately, the discovery of the assassin's identity is only the beginning. His menace pales in comparison to the ancient evil lurking in the mountains. When Marya is trapped and the men with her enslaved, she is faced with two choices: surrender to the alien being who offers her power, or ally with the handsome assassin she sought to thwart. One way she loses her soul, the other she may lose her heart.
Genre: Science Fiction, Mainstream
Also available in paperback for $11.99.
Excerpt - Chapter One
Prophecy
Then it was that Tiresin turned at bay, taking refuge within the walls of the city…
Yes, yes, she knew all that, but why had Jeran, clearly the victor, agreed to the treaty leaving his brother, Tiresin, in power?
Marya leaned back to stretch stiff shoulders and rub her eyes. The question had awakened her shortly after midnight and would not let her return to sleep. She planned to teach the treaties of the Fiorate Dynasty in the morning, and the question was one her pupil could conceivably ask, if he paid attention. Now, the three moons had all set, the first hint of dawn gray on the horizon and still she hunted for the reference she needed.
She placed the horn pen down on her nightstand and turned the page. Ah, there…
Knowing his elder brother incapable of producing an heir of his own body, Jeran allowed the ducal seat to remain in Tiresin's hands until his death. The line then passed to Jeran's own sons. Since the oracle had foretold an early end for Tiresin, this satisfied Jeran…
At the first scream, Marya dropped the book to the floor and leapt out of bed. With the second, she threw on her robe and dashed out of her bedroom, through her study and into the hall. She called back to her acolyte who slumbered on the sofa, "Sabiana, bring my bag! Hurry, girl!"
The cries emanated from the next room, the small chamber where her two sworn temple guards slept. She stopped as she reached for the handle. Something might lurk behind that door. Maybe she should call for help.
Nonsense. Nothing could have passed the temple doors, heavily guarded as they were at night. Her boys needed her. She grasped the brass handle and swung the door wide.
Harrel, the older of the two by mere days, ducked a blind swing from Feren's large fist. Feren's eyes were open, but he gazed on some hideous dreamscape rather than the bedroom around him.
"Sh, quiet!" Harrel hissed out, trying to maneuver past the wildly swinging fists. "You'll wake her and we'll both…"
"Too late," Marya interrupted dryly from the doorway.
"Oh." Harrel swallowed hard as his eyes met hers. His look reminded her of a much younger Harrel with his hand caught in the sweets jar. During his momentary distraction, he forgot to dodge. Feren's left fist landed a glancing blow to his temple, not a direct hit, but enough to knock all six-and-a-half feet of Harrel flat.
To avoid further catastrophe, Marya took the water pitcher from the table and flung the entire contents into Feren's face. He woke, choking and gasping then buried his head in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. Marya's heart ached to see him so upset. She wrapped her arms around his heavily muscled frame and pulled his dripping head down to her shoulder.
"There now," she tried to soothe him. "The dream's gone. You're safe."
Sabiana arrived at a run with Marya's medical satchel and let out a dramatic gasp.
"Harrel!" she shrieked and flung herself to her knees by the laid-out guardsman, shoving his thick, black hair off his face. "Mother Marya, what happened? Is he all right?"
"Settle down. A healer must be calm for her patient's sake. Check his pupils for me, as I've taught you, but I think we'll find he's just dazed. He should be fine."
Her acolyte complied with trembling hands, and Harrel soon stirred and groaned.
"Will you survive?" Marya asked when he seemed able to focus.
"I think so, Holiness," Harrel responded as he rubbed the side of his head. "Might want to ask me again when all the pretty dancing spots go away."
Marya snorted at his exaggeration, a shameless ploy for sympathy. On teenage girls, though, such tactics worked well. Sabiana fussed over Harrel and insisted on helping him back into his bed where she tucked the blankets around him.
"Well, my dears," Marya sighed. "Since it's nearly morning and I doubt we'd get any more sleep—Feren, look at me."
He raised his head, wiping the remnants of his tears away with the sleeve of his nightshirt. His eyes were bloodshot and heavily shadowed; all she needed to confirm what she suspected.
"I think we'll just get up now and have an early breakfast," she went on briskly. "Boys, you'll be having yours in my study instead of in the guards' mess this morning. Sabiana, kindly inform the Officer of the Watch so they will be accounted for."
As soon as the girl scurried away, Marya swatted Harrel's knee. He still sprawled across his bed as if he were faint and dizzy. "Get up, Harrel, you're fine. I expect you both in my study in thirty minutes, proper day uniforms, spit and polish." She leaned closer to the lanky nineteen-year-old to whisper, "Look after your brother, please. He may be a bit distracted and fog-bound this morning."
Harrel nodded and leapt to his feet with a grin. "Thirty minutes, without fail, Holiness." He swept her a bow, the elegance of it ruined by his attire of nightshirt and bed socks.
She left them to begin her own morning rituals. After she washed and dressed, she checked on the supplies in her medicine cabinet, lit the twin-wicked candle by her bedside, and offered first prayers to Lady Alia and her dark husband, Liut.
As an ordained Mother Priestess of the Essensate order, she conducted sunrise services in her assigned chapel. As a healer, she then saw her patients in the temple infirmary. The remainder of the day, every Mother Priestess dedicated to specific duties delegated to each according to her individual abilities.
As a scholar, the temple expected Marya to teach. She would have been content to instruct the children attending the temple school or the girls in the acolytes' classes. Instead, his eminence, Ktar Yanis, had chosen her ten years before to tutor his rather unruly, only son. Though Marya had been merely a newly ordained Adjutant Priestess at the time, the Ktar had been desperate. The heir had frightened off five previous tutors. When Marya protested, the Mother Prelate told her it was an enormous privilege for a commoner to be appointed as the royal tutor.
She sighed, anxious over Feren. The preparations for the heir's confirmation ceremony had taken so much of her energy; she feared she was guilty of neglecting the welfare of those she loved most.
Amid these worried thoughts, Harrel arrived with the laden breakfast tray. Now respectably dressed in his guard uniform of green and gold, he was all proper military precision. His crisp salute to her as he set the tray down was spoiled by his impudent wink, "Twenty-six minutes, Holiness, I still have four to spare."
"Only if Feren arrives in time as well. You were to look after him."
"He's right behind me, Mother Marya," Harrel protested. "I swear on Liut's palms…"
"I'm here, Holiness," Feren spoke up from the doorway, arriving with two more chairs for Marya's writing desk turned breakfast table. Harrel's hand was evident in the extra shine on his jacket's double row of gold buttons and the mirror polish of his boots. "Harrel's been hovering like a mama bird, never fear. Though I could have gotten dressed on my own." He smiled for her but the strain in his eyes remained.
Time to get to the bottom of it all, she thought as Sabiana rejoined them and they sat down to eat. Marya ran a hand over Feren's close-cropped hair. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine." When she snorted, he protested, "Truly, I am! I'm sorry I woke everyone this morning and caused such a fuss. Could I just be forgiven so we can go on with the rest of the day?"
She hazarded a guess. "You haven't been sleeping well for some time, have you?"
"No, Holiness," Feren mumbled, staring at his plate.
"You've been having recurring dreams again?"
"Yes, Holiness," he whispered.
She fought down her irritation. "How long? How many nights has it been?"
He bit his lip and refused to respond. Harrel cleared his throat and answered for his brother, "Six nights, Holiness…um, that I know of."
"That you know of?"
Harrel squirmed. "He… he may have had them longer, but for the past six nights I've had to wake him. He's been crying out in his sleep."
Marya threw up her hands in disgust. "And when, someone tell me, when were you planning on coming to me? When Feren became so ill with fatigue that he could no longer rise from his bed in the morning?"
Harrel hung his head. Feren took her hands to distract her from her scolding. "Please, Mother Marya, I asked him not to. I thought they'd go away this time. And I couldn't understand why I was so frightened. Every time I tried to tell Harrel about it, I couldn't get the words out."
"But you have had recurring dreams before, prophetic ones. No matter how frightening, you should always come to me with them." She gripped his hands. "Now tell me."
He swallowed hard and struggled to begin. "It's just that it doesn't make any sense. I mean, when I dreamed of ships of fire attacking the port, the marauders did attack with catapults on their ships that threw flame. At least there was a connection to something… to something real."
"Yes, and the warning was given to his eminence and the city was prepared. Prophecies rarely make sense the first time you hear them. What did you dream?"
"I'm walking on a mountain path and it's gray and snowing and then—" He stopped and gulped a few breaths. "Then I hear the most beautiful music."
"Beautiful music is scary?" Sabiana broke in scornfully.
Harrel frowned at her. "Shush, don't make it harder for him."
Feren scrubbed at his face with his palms. "But that's just it. The music is frightening. The loveliest I've ever heard. But in the dream, I'm afraid. It grows louder and louder until the mountain in front of me turns into a shining city, all blue and gold. The music is beautiful, the city is beautiful, and I'm terrified. I want to run, to hide in the dirt, but I can't move, can't breathe. I'm trapped, staring at this impossible city and trying to scream and… and that's when Harrel comes and wakes me up." He trembled, his arms clutched around his chest. "What does it mean, Holiness?"
She wished she had some easy answer for him. If someone could explain them, Feren's dreams often stopped, but he deserved the truth.
"I don't know yet, dearest." She hurried on when he dropped his gaze to the table. "Now you've told me, though, and I can search for an answer. No one has ever built a city in the mountains, so the mountain must have some other meaning. I'll consult the oracle tonight and then meditate on your dream, and on what she tells me. In the meantime, I'll give you something to help you sleep more deeply, so you don't dream. It may be difficult to wake in the morning, but Harrel can dump you in the water trough if you have too much trouble."
Feren heaved a long sigh and nodded, the gentle teasing lost on him but not on Harrel. He saluted Marya. "I will always endeavor to do your bidding to the best of my ability, Holiness."
Marya swatted at him. "That does not mean you are to dump him in the water whenever you please, you rascal! Don't you dare misinterpret what I said."
Grinning, he bowed with his hands crossed over his heart and answered solemnly, "As your Holiness commands."
Sabiana laughed and Marya shook a finger at her. "And don't you encourage him!"
Feren picked at his food and even managed to eat a bit. At Marya's questioning glance, he shot her a crooked smile. "I'm fine, Holiness. I do feel better now that I've told it. It's just I don't know why I waited so long."
His reluctance puzzled Marya as well. She had raised them almost from birth and Feren and Harrel had served as her personal bodyguards for three years now. They had gone to the Mother Prelate and requested the position on bended knee. At the time, they were sixteen and not quite finished training, but Marya, who felt uncomfortable with most other men, accepted them without question. The temple guards assigned to the priestesses were mostly ceremonial, a privilege of rank. For those rare times, though, when there was actual danger, when a bodyguard was necessary, she trusted them as she would no one else. A lifetime of trust lay between them and Feren had hesitated to speak to her.
Then it was that Tiresin turned at bay, taking refuge within the walls of the city…
Yes, yes, she knew all that, but why had Jeran, clearly the victor, agreed to the treaty leaving his brother, Tiresin, in power?
Marya leaned back to stretch stiff shoulders and rub her eyes. The question had awakened her shortly after midnight and would not let her return to sleep. She planned to teach the treaties of the Fiorate Dynasty in the morning, and the question was one her pupil could conceivably ask, if he paid attention. Now, the three moons had all set, the first hint of dawn gray on the horizon and still she hunted for the reference she needed.
She placed the horn pen down on her nightstand and turned the page. Ah, there…
Knowing his elder brother incapable of producing an heir of his own body, Jeran allowed the ducal seat to remain in Tiresin's hands until his death. The line then passed to Jeran's own sons. Since the oracle had foretold an early end for Tiresin, this satisfied Jeran…
At the first scream, Marya dropped the book to the floor and leapt out of bed. With the second, she threw on her robe and dashed out of her bedroom, through her study and into the hall. She called back to her acolyte who slumbered on the sofa, "Sabiana, bring my bag! Hurry, girl!"
The cries emanated from the next room, the small chamber where her two sworn temple guards slept. She stopped as she reached for the handle. Something might lurk behind that door. Maybe she should call for help.
Nonsense. Nothing could have passed the temple doors, heavily guarded as they were at night. Her boys needed her. She grasped the brass handle and swung the door wide.
Harrel, the older of the two by mere days, ducked a blind swing from Feren's large fist. Feren's eyes were open, but he gazed on some hideous dreamscape rather than the bedroom around him.
"Sh, quiet!" Harrel hissed out, trying to maneuver past the wildly swinging fists. "You'll wake her and we'll both…"
"Too late," Marya interrupted dryly from the doorway.
"Oh." Harrel swallowed hard as his eyes met hers. His look reminded her of a much younger Harrel with his hand caught in the sweets jar. During his momentary distraction, he forgot to dodge. Feren's left fist landed a glancing blow to his temple, not a direct hit, but enough to knock all six-and-a-half feet of Harrel flat.
To avoid further catastrophe, Marya took the water pitcher from the table and flung the entire contents into Feren's face. He woke, choking and gasping then buried his head in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. Marya's heart ached to see him so upset. She wrapped her arms around his heavily muscled frame and pulled his dripping head down to her shoulder.
"There now," she tried to soothe him. "The dream's gone. You're safe."
Sabiana arrived at a run with Marya's medical satchel and let out a dramatic gasp.
"Harrel!" she shrieked and flung herself to her knees by the laid-out guardsman, shoving his thick, black hair off his face. "Mother Marya, what happened? Is he all right?"
"Settle down. A healer must be calm for her patient's sake. Check his pupils for me, as I've taught you, but I think we'll find he's just dazed. He should be fine."
Her acolyte complied with trembling hands, and Harrel soon stirred and groaned.
"Will you survive?" Marya asked when he seemed able to focus.
"I think so, Holiness," Harrel responded as he rubbed the side of his head. "Might want to ask me again when all the pretty dancing spots go away."
Marya snorted at his exaggeration, a shameless ploy for sympathy. On teenage girls, though, such tactics worked well. Sabiana fussed over Harrel and insisted on helping him back into his bed where she tucked the blankets around him.
"Well, my dears," Marya sighed. "Since it's nearly morning and I doubt we'd get any more sleep—Feren, look at me."
He raised his head, wiping the remnants of his tears away with the sleeve of his nightshirt. His eyes were bloodshot and heavily shadowed; all she needed to confirm what she suspected.
"I think we'll just get up now and have an early breakfast," she went on briskly. "Boys, you'll be having yours in my study instead of in the guards' mess this morning. Sabiana, kindly inform the Officer of the Watch so they will be accounted for."
As soon as the girl scurried away, Marya swatted Harrel's knee. He still sprawled across his bed as if he were faint and dizzy. "Get up, Harrel, you're fine. I expect you both in my study in thirty minutes, proper day uniforms, spit and polish." She leaned closer to the lanky nineteen-year-old to whisper, "Look after your brother, please. He may be a bit distracted and fog-bound this morning."
Harrel nodded and leapt to his feet with a grin. "Thirty minutes, without fail, Holiness." He swept her a bow, the elegance of it ruined by his attire of nightshirt and bed socks.
She left them to begin her own morning rituals. After she washed and dressed, she checked on the supplies in her medicine cabinet, lit the twin-wicked candle by her bedside, and offered first prayers to Lady Alia and her dark husband, Liut.
As an ordained Mother Priestess of the Essensate order, she conducted sunrise services in her assigned chapel. As a healer, she then saw her patients in the temple infirmary. The remainder of the day, every Mother Priestess dedicated to specific duties delegated to each according to her individual abilities.
As a scholar, the temple expected Marya to teach. She would have been content to instruct the children attending the temple school or the girls in the acolytes' classes. Instead, his eminence, Ktar Yanis, had chosen her ten years before to tutor his rather unruly, only son. Though Marya had been merely a newly ordained Adjutant Priestess at the time, the Ktar had been desperate. The heir had frightened off five previous tutors. When Marya protested, the Mother Prelate told her it was an enormous privilege for a commoner to be appointed as the royal tutor.
She sighed, anxious over Feren. The preparations for the heir's confirmation ceremony had taken so much of her energy; she feared she was guilty of neglecting the welfare of those she loved most.
Amid these worried thoughts, Harrel arrived with the laden breakfast tray. Now respectably dressed in his guard uniform of green and gold, he was all proper military precision. His crisp salute to her as he set the tray down was spoiled by his impudent wink, "Twenty-six minutes, Holiness, I still have four to spare."
"Only if Feren arrives in time as well. You were to look after him."
"He's right behind me, Mother Marya," Harrel protested. "I swear on Liut's palms…"
"I'm here, Holiness," Feren spoke up from the doorway, arriving with two more chairs for Marya's writing desk turned breakfast table. Harrel's hand was evident in the extra shine on his jacket's double row of gold buttons and the mirror polish of his boots. "Harrel's been hovering like a mama bird, never fear. Though I could have gotten dressed on my own." He smiled for her but the strain in his eyes remained.
Time to get to the bottom of it all, she thought as Sabiana rejoined them and they sat down to eat. Marya ran a hand over Feren's close-cropped hair. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine." When she snorted, he protested, "Truly, I am! I'm sorry I woke everyone this morning and caused such a fuss. Could I just be forgiven so we can go on with the rest of the day?"
She hazarded a guess. "You haven't been sleeping well for some time, have you?"
"No, Holiness," Feren mumbled, staring at his plate.
"You've been having recurring dreams again?"
"Yes, Holiness," he whispered.
She fought down her irritation. "How long? How many nights has it been?"
He bit his lip and refused to respond. Harrel cleared his throat and answered for his brother, "Six nights, Holiness…um, that I know of."
"That you know of?"
Harrel squirmed. "He… he may have had them longer, but for the past six nights I've had to wake him. He's been crying out in his sleep."
Marya threw up her hands in disgust. "And when, someone tell me, when were you planning on coming to me? When Feren became so ill with fatigue that he could no longer rise from his bed in the morning?"
Harrel hung his head. Feren took her hands to distract her from her scolding. "Please, Mother Marya, I asked him not to. I thought they'd go away this time. And I couldn't understand why I was so frightened. Every time I tried to tell Harrel about it, I couldn't get the words out."
"But you have had recurring dreams before, prophetic ones. No matter how frightening, you should always come to me with them." She gripped his hands. "Now tell me."
He swallowed hard and struggled to begin. "It's just that it doesn't make any sense. I mean, when I dreamed of ships of fire attacking the port, the marauders did attack with catapults on their ships that threw flame. At least there was a connection to something… to something real."
"Yes, and the warning was given to his eminence and the city was prepared. Prophecies rarely make sense the first time you hear them. What did you dream?"
"I'm walking on a mountain path and it's gray and snowing and then—" He stopped and gulped a few breaths. "Then I hear the most beautiful music."
"Beautiful music is scary?" Sabiana broke in scornfully.
Harrel frowned at her. "Shush, don't make it harder for him."
Feren scrubbed at his face with his palms. "But that's just it. The music is frightening. The loveliest I've ever heard. But in the dream, I'm afraid. It grows louder and louder until the mountain in front of me turns into a shining city, all blue and gold. The music is beautiful, the city is beautiful, and I'm terrified. I want to run, to hide in the dirt, but I can't move, can't breathe. I'm trapped, staring at this impossible city and trying to scream and… and that's when Harrel comes and wakes me up." He trembled, his arms clutched around his chest. "What does it mean, Holiness?"
She wished she had some easy answer for him. If someone could explain them, Feren's dreams often stopped, but he deserved the truth.
"I don't know yet, dearest." She hurried on when he dropped his gaze to the table. "Now you've told me, though, and I can search for an answer. No one has ever built a city in the mountains, so the mountain must have some other meaning. I'll consult the oracle tonight and then meditate on your dream, and on what she tells me. In the meantime, I'll give you something to help you sleep more deeply, so you don't dream. It may be difficult to wake in the morning, but Harrel can dump you in the water trough if you have too much trouble."
Feren heaved a long sigh and nodded, the gentle teasing lost on him but not on Harrel. He saluted Marya. "I will always endeavor to do your bidding to the best of my ability, Holiness."
Marya swatted at him. "That does not mean you are to dump him in the water whenever you please, you rascal! Don't you dare misinterpret what I said."
Grinning, he bowed with his hands crossed over his heart and answered solemnly, "As your Holiness commands."
Sabiana laughed and Marya shook a finger at her. "And don't you encourage him!"
Feren picked at his food and even managed to eat a bit. At Marya's questioning glance, he shot her a crooked smile. "I'm fine, Holiness. I do feel better now that I've told it. It's just I don't know why I waited so long."
His reluctance puzzled Marya as well. She had raised them almost from birth and Feren and Harrel had served as her personal bodyguards for three years now. They had gone to the Mother Prelate and requested the position on bended knee. At the time, they were sixteen and not quite finished training, but Marya, who felt uncomfortable with most other men, accepted them without question. The temple guards assigned to the priestesses were mostly ceremonial, a privilege of rank. For those rare times, though, when there was actual danger, when a bodyguard was necessary, she trusted them as she would no one else. A lifetime of trust lay between them and Feren had hesitated to speak to her.