I had been pushing to get this published by the end of March, but now I'm going for the end of April. I don't have an exact date yet.
However, to whet your appetite, I'll offer the book summary and a short excerpt from Incarnate Memory for you to enjoy!Synopsis
After spending five years in Adajerre on the gods' errand, and driven by a sacred oath, Sabra turns her attention to the northern province of Urak, where she knows someone that might shed light on the trade of elven flesh in the White Seas. After she is reunited with her friends Deborah and Tarcua, she learns that youth from the Lunar Temple have been stolen into possible slavery, sharpening her determination to learn the truth. With the help of a former enemy, Sabra, Tarcua, and Deborah set out to find a fortress inhabtted by a people who can give Sabra the answers she seeks. However, their knowledge will come at a brutal price that will test the limits of Sabra's strength and patience. And if that were not enough, the scars left by the Golden One have awoken into a terrible curse that induces memories to become painful reality.
Xenta Di'curio is one of those stolen from his home in Hakor and forced into a massive mining operation overlooked by Unia'a and humans twisted by necromancy. There he meets Caemorr, a young woman not much older than him, and though they are forced to commit the unthinkable to keep each other safe, they will forge a bond that will give them the strength to survive the horrors of their sadistic masters.
With monsters forcing sentients into slavery and a Hunter curse sucking away her sanity, Sabra must learn the secrets of freeing her own spirit before she can begin to free others from nightmarish servitude. As Caemorr's only friend, Xenta will learn that the gods' love can reach into the darkest of places and that hope in Their power is priceless.
Excerpt
The Resvels turned into the cool air between the fortress and the outer wall and then veered north to the construction site. Unia'a already milled about the site, which was littered with piles of stacked stones. Wood and metal buttresses leaned against the wall. Eyes turned to the black-clothed figures that swooped up a raised part of the outer courtyard and to the open site.
The Resvels halted, catching their breaths. An elf that couldn't have been any taller than Ayaka approached the group, wearing his full uniform. He appeared to be the only soldier not working in his unit. He stood at attention as Ayaka made her way to him.
“Hail, Commander Regan,” she said, saluting him with her straight hand and thumb up against her breastbone. He saluted in return. “I have brought some help.”
“I haven't heard the end of the prince's railings over last night's fiasco,” he said in a baritone voice. He was about to say more, but at Ayaka's glare, which she had worn nearly all morning, he stopped himself. Instead he turned partway to his laboring soldiers. “Half of my unit is here; I sent the rest to the quarry to gather more materials. Your magpies may fill in there, there, and there.”
He pointed to three less crowded areas that needed attention, and Ayaka nodded.
“Commander, I give you permission to deliver orders to me, my commanders, and my magpies, in whatever way is needed to help fix this hole,” she said.
“Yes ma'am!” Regan said, saluting once more. “Take yourself and ten to the first area. You, commander, and your soldiers, to the second . . . .”
He distributed orders liberally, and the magpies dispersed to fulfill their duties. Sabra was assigned mortar duty with Diur's unit. They were to lay a new layer of mortar over the bottom-most part of the hole before the workers laid more heavy stones.
Sabra brought her first bucket of mortar up one of the lower buttresses to begin laying. The wall had a core of large stones, with a layer of smaller stones and bricks on the inside and outside. The hole before them gaped at least thirty feet high and forty feet wide. Newly laid stone was bright against the darker, aged stone of the fortress, and it looked like the soldiers had already patched up about fifty feet of the wall; Sabra wondered if whatever had blown apart this wall had spelled the end of the original Molouk inhabitants.
Sabra swallowed her disgust at having to handle the gloopy gray slop in her large bucket and remembered that obedience was essential. In order to obey, she had to put aside personal preferences. Once she got into the routine of laying mud and smoothing it, though, the discomfort fled, and time passed much easier.
Deborah stayed nearby, having decided to accompany Sabra on this unusual morning, and was careful not to interfere with any orders Regan or the Resvel commanders gave. The Incarnate was grateful her familiar helped sap away any bitterness she had towards Gem and her ward partners. The fairy chatted more than usual with Sabra and even drew the curiosity of a few other soldiers. Sometimes the Bii'a switched to a mixture of Unessa and Unvaven for their sakes, although it was very rusty.
Sabra soon became smudged with mud and mortar, strands of her hair clumping into stiff spikes. The work was monotonous, and by noon the task of toting around so much mud made all her muscles burn. Even her jaw ached.
In order to keep her mind off of her own discomforts, Sabra often checked on the statuses of her kin. Some of the Resvels had withdrawn into muttering or cursing complaints as they carried stone, mixed more mortar, or dug up earth.
Gem was among these. She had been periodically carrying the mixed buckets of mortar to the workers. Sabra was next on Gem's list for delivery, as she had run out of the mud five minutes before. She climbed down the buttress to receive her load from Gem.
Sabra's eyes flickered to Gem's feet. The young witch's right foot deliberately caught on a stone embedded into the earth. As she stumbled, a crescent of gleaming gray-white mud arced and splatted across the Incarnate, who quickly covered her face to protect her eyes. Gem straightened with a sneer.
“Oops,” Gem said with a mock-sorry tone. Sabra breathed tightly as she straightened, shaking an arm to rid it of the goop. Calm. Obedience. Gem could act like a child if she wanted, but she wouldn’t get Sabra to do the same. Sabra stooped and lifted the bucket.
Deborah sensed Sabra's intentions immediately and kept the Resvel out of her line of sight, keeping on Sabra's far side. Sabra lifted the bucket and held it to Gem. Gem stared, especially when Sabra's face remained tolerantly unemotional. Gem scowled and snatched it away from Sabra, stomping to the bottom of the slope where they were mixing the mortar.
“She just made more work for herself,” Deborah said with a shake of her head.
“If my sister wishes to punish herself more than she already has been, then let her,” Sabra said quietly, further wiping mud from herself. She squeezed the mortar off of her hands, gaze resting on the mark of the Moonstone. She got a flash of memory of her hands covered in blood, the right one holding up a shining beacon that had the power to destroy a nation. Sabra lowered her hand as a tingle rounded through her Extraction mark.
Sabra froze. She waited for the vision of the Hunters to appear, but nothing else happened. She gulped and turned as Hiardian approached her with mortar and a gentle smile.
“Sorry about Gem,” he said. Sabra took the bucket and smiled back.
“Sorry you have to deal with this as well,” she replied. “Thank-you, warlock Hiardian.”
“You did the right thing,” he said with a shrug. He tucked his thumbs into his belt. “If you . . . don't mind me saying, Icariu, I think you look great covered in mud and working hard. It'd make for a great picture.”
Red tinted her cheeks. Should she laugh or say something? A great picture . . . he had mentioned he liked to draw, but the thought of him drawing her turned her face even redder. Hiardian retained his soft expression, and she found she couldn't reply. Sabra gave him a polite nod and quickly turned to the buttress to continue her work.
(Incarnate Memory excerpt
© 2017 Sarah Bailey. All rights
reserved.)
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