Coming February 3rd 2023
Can a mother’s love protect her family?
At first, when a lifeboat wrecks on the shores of St. Anne's Cleft, Alynn the Dauntless thinks nothing of it. She has a baby to raise and a house to keep. However, things start disappearing, and it becomes evident that the lifeboat brought a malevolent stranger with it. Alynn longs to take action, even if it means disregarding the wishes of her husband Drostan, who is navigating the first true test of his chieftainship.
Meanwhile, the cloaked stranger grows increasingly violent as his crimes escalate from robbery to assault, arson, and murder. Alynn refuses sit idly by and watch innocent blood be spilled—but she can't bear to be away from her daughter. When Alynn's family is targeted, she is faced with a choice. Does she risk her own life to protect others? Or does she stay at home to keep her baby safe?
With Drostan focused on the island's safety, her parents distracted with fear, and beloved priest Lukas haunted by ghosts of his past, Alynn is forced to navigate these trying times on her own. Will her decisions help or harm those she cares about?
Excerpt
Brett’s voice trailed off, and he stopped walking. One hand shot out and grabbed Tarin’s narrow shoulder. There was another rustling in the woods. Tarin froze to listen to it; it sounded like footsteps, and then a thud, as if something had fallen. And then there was silence. No matter how hard Tarin listened, the only thing he could hear was the whispering of the wind in the pine boughs and the eldritch hum of the mists.
“It’s the ghost,” said Brett. “It’s probably a huldra. It’s a forest spirit that looks like a pretty girl with a cow’s tail. If she kisses you, you’re her slave for the rest of your life.”
“I’ll bet ‘tis a merrow,” said Tarin. “We’re fierce close to the ocean.”
“Or it might be the same draugr that ate the chief’s daughter.”
Tarin grabbed the stick out of Brett’s hand. “Let’s go find out,” he said.
“You’re mad! You’ll get eaten!”
Tarin whirled around to face his friend. “Devil mend it, Brett! It was just last week that you prayed Mum would find her tablet weaving shuttle, and you’d hardly said ‘amen’ before it showed up. Don’t you think we can take on a ghost?”
Sighing, Brett made his way towards the source of the noise, and Tarin followed him with a mixture of caution and excitement. Brett’s enormous height and broad build were more suited for a wrestling contest than a silent trek through the woods. He had to stop every two paces to duck under a twig or turn sideways to get between two close-growing trees. Tarin’s curiosity was overwhelming his patience. When Brett got tangled in the underbrush, Tarin nimbly darted ahead of him, finally reaching the spot the noise had originated from.
There it was.
Tarin froze. Whatever it was, it didn’t look human. Its limbs were too long, and they stuck out at odd angles. It moved like a spider, slowly, limb by limb into the underbrush. Tarin took a small step away from it. By the time Brett caught up, brushing twigs out of his beard, the creature had all but disappeared. The only thing Tarin could see was a hand—or at least something that looked like a hand—with fingers that clutched at the dirt as if in pain.
“What is it?” Brett whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“Did it see you?”
“I think so. ‘Tis trying to run away.”
“Then it’s harmless,” said Brett. Grabbing his stick back, he took a few steps further into the woods. “In Jesus’ name, come out!”
Tarin flinched. There was a noise—a guttural, instinctual cry, like that of a wounded animal or a dying infant. Brett lashed out with his stick. The creature moved—there was a flash of something sickly white, mottled with dirt and fresh blood and dried scabs. Then Brett gave a cry of his own and came crashing back towards the path.
“It bit me,” he said. Blood reddened the torn edges of his sleeve. Tarin’s heart skipped a beat as he tried to see if the creature was following them. It wasn’t. Or if it was, Tarin couldn’t see it.
Without another word, the boys turned and ran.