Brother Thief (Song of the Aura, Book One) (27 page)

  
Thirdly, I thank the teen writing workshop members from the spring program at my library: they don't know it, but without them the character of Gribly would never have been invented... and there would have been no story to tell.

  
Lastly, I thank all the people and groups who gave me support and fellowship on the path of writing: my friends, my family, my heroes, my helpers. We're Striders together, all of us...

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gregory J. Downs
is the author of several novels, including the standalone Arthurian novel
Mordred
, as well as the
Song of the Aura
series, of which this book is the first part. Having grown up reading the likes of Tolkien, Jacques, Lewis, and Jordan, it was only a matter of time before his imagination grew too explosive to contain, and one day it spilled out onto paper as the first lines of his first story. Hundreds of thousands of words and several years later, he is glad to present you with this, his second self-published novel.

  
Gregory is homeschooled (yes, he's still in school) and professes himself to be radically Christian and unshakably Catholic. If you can stomach that, he also believes in writing only the best, most epic fiction he possibly can.

  
Gregory hopes you've enjoyed this book- but whether you liked it or hated it, he values your opinion. To review
Brother Thief
, go to the Amazon page where you bought/downloaded it. Thank you, and may the great Creator of the world send his Aura to protect you!

  
To visit the author's blog, go to
www.epicbloggjd.blogspot.com
.

  
To become a fan of the
Song of the Aura
series, go to
www.facebook.com/songoftheaura
.

  
To become a fan of
Mordred
on Facebook, go to
www.facebook.com/Excather
.

PREVIEW OF

-THE SONG OF THE AURA-

BOOK TWO

-WINTER WARRIOR-

Chapter One Sample

  
About midday the ragged band tramped out of the mountain eaves and onto a wide band of pebbly sand that ran to the edge of the water. The blotches of color they’d seen from the Arches of Linolen were indeed the dwellings of the Zain. Apparently the survivors had been spotted by the nymphs, who sent a greeting party of equal number out to meet them in the middle of the beach.

  
“Greetings, travelers of Beyond,” called the tallest nymph as the two groups approached each other. His hair was light brown and wavy, flowing back from his head like the sail of a ship, bound by a silver circlet with a white diadem on his brow. His gaze was steady and his speech kingly, if a bit odd. A blue tunic and bound sandals gave him the appearance of a simple peasant, but Lauro knew better. His circlet identified him as a cleric, as did the slim gray staff with an unlit candle affixed to the top.

  
“Greetings, holy one,” the prince returned, placing a hand on his heart and bowing low. His companions repeated the gesture behind him, carefully imitating his composure.

  
“There is but One who is Holy, and He is not I,” replied the nymph cleric, frowning. His companions, shorter but dressed in serviceable leather armor and carrying javelins, hung about uneasily.

  
“My apologies. I meant no disrespect,” Lauro assured him. Gesturing to Gribly and the three silverguard, he explained their plight. “My men and I hail from the lands south of here. We journey with all haste to Grymclaw, bearing news of trouble and a plea for advice to the Aura rumored to make his abode there. Our party is much diminished after an attack last night, and we would seek aid from your people if you can spare it.”

  
“We have not had news or sight of our allies from Beyond for some time. The mountains have been barred to travelers for many cycles of the planets. Have you proof of friendship with the Zain?”

  
Lauro was at a loss until Gribly piped up impertinently from the side. “We were guided by Byorne the half-nymph.” The cleric turned his head slowly to gaze at the thief.

  
“Know you Byornleo Hallifar, the Longstrider?”

  
“If it is the same man as brought us this far, then yes,” the prince told him.

  
“Then where walk he now?”

  
“Nowhere.” It was Gribly again, fumbling in his pack for something. “He died in the attack on our camp, only last night. He gave me this, with a message to deliver it to Wanderwillow when we met him.” Out from his satchel he brought the wood and metal contraption Byorne had passed on to him, the white hawk medal wrapped around its end. Gingerly holding it in his hands, he stepped forward to allow the Zain cleric a closer look. One of the nymph soldiers moved to intercept him, but the cleric stopped him and took the device carefully from Gribly.

  
“This comes from the Longstrider.” He said at last, “But it tells me not how it came to you. If Byornleo is truly dead, then tribulation will not far off be… Tell me, how did such a mighty ranger such as he perish whilst you, young one, did not?”

  
“He was attacked while still sleeping,” Gribly explained, attempting to hide his sorrow behind a stony face. From Lauro’s perspective, it didn’t look like he was succeeding. All the better- they needed emotion to convince this nymph they were truthful. “Even with his death-wound, he managed to save my life. He was a hero,” the boy concluded.

  
Sensing the reality of the words, the cleric handed back the weapon and allowed Gribly to replace it before spreading his hand wide in a gesture of welcome. “Then you are friends and allies of the Zain, as you were of the Longstrider.”

  
Bravo, Grib!
thought Lauro, though he would never say it to the lad’s face.

  
“Tell me,” inquired the cleric, “What manner of enemy assailed you?” At that Gribly frowned and let the prince answer in his place.

  
“A draik,” announced Lauro grimly, his hand absently rubbing his sword-pommel at the ugly memory. “And a man who called himself a Pit Strider. He had powers to match a sorcerer’s, and it was he who dealt the death-blow to Byorne… Byornleo.”

  
“
Xibalba Cameetza
!” swore the cleric, suddenly and harshly. “If such a man there be, then not even the Zain may hide you…”