He realized something was wrong when he started to feel dizzy. Normally, Mistress Baella stopped drinking after a minute or so, but this time she’d gone on much, much longer.
Realization struck him like a hammer.
“No,” he whispered. He grabbed her head and tried to pull her mouth from his neck, but it was like trying to move a bronze statue. His arms bulged with muscle, enhanced by the strength she had lent him, but he could no more move her than he could move the mountain on which her keep was built.
“Why, Mistress?” he asked. His vision faded, and the strength left his limbs. In far too little time, his arms fell to his sides and his legs buckled. He simply lacked the strength to keep them functional.
“Why?” he asked again, just before he closed his eyes for the last time.
***
Feyo’s blood coursed through her veins, igniting her nerves along the way, and the warmth made her feel better. Her plan had failed, but there would be other opportunities. After all, she had an eternity to try again.
But for tonight she would have to content herself with something else. She strode to the stone stairs on the far side of her foyer, headed for the topmost room of her keep. There she would find the mystical items she needed for tonight’s work, as well as the means to send the effects of her psalm across vast distances.
Time to send Ramah another dream.
THE END
Acknowledgements
I also need to acknowledge several friends whose determination and talent have served as examples of the writer I should strive to be: Aprilynne Pike, Chris Stephenson, Patricia Wood, Jeremy Robinson, Stan Tremblay, and Jon F. Merz.
Thank you to Emily, Matt, Joseph, Todd, and Elizabeth; the best beta readers I’ve ever had. How I missed so many typos and weird sentences is beyond me, you guys really helped make this book what it is.
And to Cindy and Barbara, this book is for you just as much as it is for anyone else. I can always count on you for a boost of confidence when I need it. Thank you.
Last but certainly not least, I want to thank my wife Heather for her love and support, and also for her constant reminders during those early years that I needed to finish my book. Without her, my first novel would still be sitting, unedited, on a 3.5 inch floppy somewhere, never to be seen by another living soul. Thank you, Hon. I love you.
About the Author
David lives in Tennessee with his wife, daughter, and infant son.