Wintertime Reading

A chilly, sea scene chapter from Storm Tide.

Dec 13, 2022

Hi, Book Monsters!

I’m just popping in to send you some warm wishes this fine December day. It’s freezing here in Colorado! I’m looking out my window at a powdery snowfall this morning as I write. It’s not covering much, actually, but it sure is cold. It made me think of this icy scene from Storm Tide where Isdra is swimming around in the north Atlantic, searching for an enchanted sword. Read the whole chapter down below.

(From Chapter 7)

The slate gray water rocked, then sprayed into the air as Isdra broke its surface. She swam to shore, pushed up onto the rocks with a gasp, then stood on the black sand beach. Even in Seaverse, she didn’t swim as much as she had when she was a child. She missed her trips to Arlenon’s beaches with her brother and her one friend, Breena. Away from the palace and her father their time had been lighter, more carefree. They’d enjoyed the water the way her race was supposed to then. Now she swam out of urgency. Icy saltwater clung to her face and hair, beading on her sealskin in shining pearls. Spitting the cold sea out of her mouth, she uttered a curse. Her search for the sword had, once again, turned up nothing. It was nowhere to be found! She stomped across soggy volcanic sand to the borrowed four-wheel-drive vehicle Sven had taught her how to drive. Earth mobiles weren’t all that different to operate than crawlers—the Selkeen-made vehicles that traveled along the ocean floor. Guards from every clan used them to survey the borders of the shield wards that kept Seaverse hidden. After the plague finally ended, there’d been a short time of peace between all three tribes of Seaverse. Ravaged and broken, they’d mourned their dead, everyday fearful of what could befall them from above. Enemies, more illness… the unease drove severe tension into their world.

Every year at the solstices, Morar went alone to the mountain to appease the gods and keep the spell for the shield strong. No officials from the other clans were allowed to go with him. His secrecy became a point of contention between Arlenon and the other kingdoms. Arguments arose, and when the waters from the mountain rivers’ basins finally dried up, it caused even more hardship. Battles between the tribes started. It didn’t help that Arlenon held the largest usable reservoir of precious water. Contracts and water treaties were attempted, but they only resulted in more dissension, more battles. The Borai and the Oontoi wanted the shield lifted to restore the waters so the tribes could rule their own lands’ resources again. Morar refused, arguing that it was too risky to lift the shield. By his decree, Seaverse stayed hidden beneath the shield. And the wars worsened.

Isdra opened the lift gate to grab a towel out of the back of the SUV, teeth chattering as she dried off her face and neck. Ripping out the band that held her hair in a ponytail, she cringed as the frigid strands fell against her cheeks like little icicles.

“No luck?”

“Ahh!”

She jumped a foot in the air, then turned around just in time to see Viggo step around the side of her car from out of nowhere. Vile human, where had he come from? She held her towel to her chest, shivering in the freezing air. When she swam, her selskin fitted to every contour of her body perfectly. In the water, it constantly changed, adapting to maximize her speed and agility in the water. On land with it wet, though, she was as good as naked and she could feel the cold! Her nipples hardened painfully against the inside of her skin.

The Assassins’ leader looked her up and down, a smirk on his weaselly face. Asshole. How did he know she was here? She’d made sure no one had followed her from the museum. Viggo and his hunters had a way of turning up at the most inopportune times. She knew that well enough from experience. Gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering, she lifted her chin.

“No.”

She continued drying off with the towel as best she could, then threw it in the car. With a thought, her selskin morphed into its human looking coat version. Its fur collar caressed her neck, lending its warmth immediately. Ever since her very rude first acquaintance with the Spirit Assassins’ leader, she’d wanted nothing more than to be shed of his presence.

He shrugged. Isdra heard the low rumble of an engine off in the distance. No doubt, a whole pack of Assassins waited up over the rise.

“That’s a shame.”

“I’ll find it. You said I have until the end of the week. There’s still time.”

She dropped her head, rummaging around inside the car so she didn’t have to look at him.

“Clock’s ticking, sweetheart. Not just here either.” He picked at his gloves as he spoke, but his eyes pierced hers. “Things down in your little sea world aren’t going so well.”

Isdra’s head whipped up.

“What do you mean?”

Viggo shrugged again, then pulled his coat straight, prolonging the agony. She hated him.

“Let’s just say that your little stunt with the Borai—you know, the one where you got your brother killed,” pain lanced through Isdra at his words, “—resulted in renewed bad blood between your tribe and theirs. War is coming… soon.”

“No!” Isdra’s throat went tight. The Arelani needed more time to grow their defenses. Going against Aragon too soon would be a death mission. Her father knew that. “Morar wouldn’t be so foolish.”

Viggo smirked at her. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“Loss of a son, traitor daughter… emotions are probably running pretty high for dear old dad at a time like this.”

Isdra swallowed down another lump of guilt before narrowing her eyes on the Assassins’ leader.

“You never explained how you are in communication with my father.”

He shrugged again.

“You really aren’t in a position to ask questions, honey. If I were you, I’d get my hands on that sword by sunset tomorrow. Otherwise, you’ll be sending Arelani troops to a war none of them will come back from.”

Isdra’s heart seized. Her people were strong fighters, but in the winter months their troop numbers and weapons cash always saw numbers fall. If her father waged war with the Borai now, with their forces so depleted, it would mean certain defeat. They would lose more lives… many more. All she wanted was peace in Seaverse, for her people to survive. She’d do anything to ensure that. But so many things about Viggo and the Assassins’ demands didn’t sit well with her.

“What exactly does this sword have to do with the Arelani… with Seaverse?”

“There you go with those questions again, darlin.” Viggo shook his head at her. He pulled his hat down over his ears when the wind picked up. Isdra pulled the ruff of her selskin tighter around her neck to ward off the icy bite of it, but her stare didn’t falter. She was tired of being threatened. Viggo shrugged. “It’s fucking cold out here, you know that? Nah, you probably don’t feel a thing in that fish skin, do ya?” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Alright, the sword holds special powers, as you might have guessed. It gives strength to the one who bears it, so the legend goes. It’s also been spelled a time or two along the way, but that’s neither here nor there. Having it brings certain victory in battle, among other things. You can see its draw, I’m sure.” His eyes narrowed again with malice as he lifted one long, thin finger to point at her. “End of the week. Clock’s tickin, girlie.”

With that, he threw the remaining stub of his cigarette into the snow, then turned his back on her. She suspected there was more to the story of the sword, but she wouldn’t be getting any more information out of him. Without so much as a backward glance, the Spirit Assassins’ leader walked away from her, up the hill to the main road where a black SUV had parked and got in. Once the vehicle drove away, Isdra’s eyes shot back to the water behind her. It battered the rocky shoreline, cold, gray, and choppy from the wind. Maybe she had time for one more dive.

If her father already wanted to start another war, she had to get back to Seaverse before it began. A roll of nausea hit her middle. The people of Seaverse couldn’t afford another war–none of them. They were out of resources and their fighters didn’t have the stomach for it anymore. King Morar couldn’t see that, though. The only one who’d ever been able to talk him down in the past had been Farrel. It had always come from Isdra’s urging, but at least Farrel had listened to her. Morar never did. Her only ally in averting more destruction was gone—and it was her fault. The lead ball trying to settle in her stomach shot up into her throat.

Without Farrel, the Arelani were more at risk than ever. She was their last hope, even if they didn’t know it. Even if they all hated her.

She shrugged out of her coat so she could undress underneath it again. As sealed as the skin was to the sea, her clothes always got wet when she transformed from Selkeen to human form. She didn’t wish to turn into a block of ice today. That thought filled her mind with visions of the frozen warrior in the cave. Memories of the taste of his lips warmed her through and through. She stopped, pulling at the thick fur of her collar.

“Ach, what is wrong with me? One look at the frosty warrior and now I can’t get him out of my head.”

He wasn’t just any man, though. Not like any she had ever seen.

“I need to get a clutch.”

She cringed as that last word left her mouth. That didn’t sound right, but who cared? And who cared about a gold-haired, muscle bound Viking? She shook her head, letting the cold air clear it.

Nevermind that she’d been expecting to find a grizzled old clansman in the cave two days ago, frozen through and gray as stone. The disgusting specimen of someone gone afoul of dark magic. Nothing prepared her for the sleeping angel she’d found instead. Golden and perfect, the sight of him had made her forget her whole purpose for a moment. Then she kissed him before she could stop herself. Now look at the mess she was in!

“Stupid man. Stupid, frozen man.”

A gust of wind stole the cloudy breath of her words away right as her phone rang. Pulling it out of her backpack, she answered.

“Hello? Sven… yes.” She listened to her friend, realizing she’d forgotten all about their plans for the day. “Right, of course! I’m not far.” She rolled her eyes at the lie. “I’ll be there soon to meet you.”

She listened a moment longer to Sven’s excited chatter, her eyes lighting up as she did.

“Oh, he did? Really? That’s wonderful! Thank you for asking him for me. I’m on my way now. See you in the square.”

She hung up, shut the liftgate, then walked around to climb into the SUV. She’d come back and look for the sword again later, hopefully, with some new insights by then. Sven told her he’d asked Fritz about the legend of the Sword of Ice. If anyone could dig up helpful folklore on artifacts, it would be him. With any luck, she’d have it in her hands by nightfall.

Thanks so much for reading! If you haven’t read Storm Tide yet, you can find it on Amazon.

Alright, Monsters, that’s all I have for today. I hope you are staying warm with a hot cocoa or steaming cup of coffee and a good book. As always, feel free to say “hi” or share your current read down in comments or a reply to this email. I love hearing from you!

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