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Book Spotlight: Fiskur (The Gemeta Stone #2) by Donna Migliaccio


Fiskur by Donna Migliaccio

November7, 2017

Fantasy

The Gemeta Stone Book 2

Fiery Seas Publishing, LLC

With his family's talisman in his possession, Kristan Gemeta is ready to face the Wichelord Daazna – but he has no inkling of the scope of Daazna's power, nor the depths of his hatred.

With the recovery of his family's protective talisman, Kristan Gemeta has found hope, courage – and perhaps even the first stirrings of love. With the aid of Heather Demitt, her band of rebels, a shipload of Northern brigands and the legendary Kentavron, he readies himself to face the Wichelord Daazna. But neither he nor his comrades realize the strength of Daazna's power and hatred. The Wichelord's first blow comes from a direction Kristan least expects, with horrific, lasting consequences.

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FISKUR EXCERPT #1

From Chapter 2

In Hogia, Daazna lifted his head slowly from Iele’s breast. A strange prickling ran from the base of his spine to his scalp, as if a mouse had suddenly run up his backbone. He rose, pushing aside Iele’s clinging arms. At that moment a violent spasm shook him from head to foot, so hard that his teeth chattered.

“Na san ka,” he whispered.

He shoved past the Lost Men, fumbled open the door of Iele’s chamber and stumbled down the corridor. Soldiers loitering in the great hall recoiled as he careened into the room and raised both arms, his mouth stretched in a rictus of triumph. “Na san ka!” he screamed. “NA SAN KA!”

He hurled his consciousness upward. It roared through timbered ceiling and tiled roof and bright hot afternoon sky and plunged into the breast of a crow flying over the castle. The bird tumbled, scattering black feathers, but he righted it with cruel strength and glared through its eyes and pumped its wings into impossibly swift flight, following the Seeking spell’s warm, pulsing trail. Westward over the sunlit Plains of Hogia and over the River Mor he drove the crow, while its breath whistled in its lungs and its heart strained and faltered. South and then west again, over the green trees of the Exilwald and then through them, Daazna pushed the bird’s failing body onward, in pursuit of the Seeking spell’s blazing source. Suddenly he was upon it, and he burst free of the crow, letting its corpse fall as he blew like a scorching wind into the body of a squirrel sitting quietly in a tree. The animal’s fur stood all on end and its teeth chattered with the terrible pain of his intrusion. Daazna forced it into motion along a branch, then halted it over a little clearing and dragged its head sideways so he could look down at the forest floor.

Through the squirrel’s agony-glazed eye, he saw the girl; felt the heat of her happiness radiating outward and upward. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed as she kissed the man who embraced her. All Daazna could see was the top of the man’s head. He was ready to strike out, to swat the man aside like a fly, when the pair pulled apart, laughing and gasping, and he saw the Stone, shining red on the man’s chest.

All thoughts of the girl drained from Daazna’s mind. With ravenous eyes he devoured Kristan Gemeta’s slight, black-haired figure. The squirrel’s body went rigid; its claws dug deep into the tree’s bark, and from its throat came a feeble screech of pain. The Gemeta’s gaze flicked up, and his eyes, soft with lovemaking, took on sudden clarity. Quiet quiet quiet, Daazna told himself, easing his excited grip on the furry body that housed him. The Stone knows you and will knock you back to Hogia again if you don’t take care.

The girl’s hand rose and stroked the Gemeta’s uplifted face. He smiled and bent to her once more, and Daazna pushed the squirrel’s unwilling form down the tree trunk and held it there so he could see the Gemeta more closely. No wonder the girl is happy in his arms, he thought. The solemn little boy has grown into a beautiful young man. A wave of bitter jealousy washed over him as the pair kissed again. The squirrel gnashed its teeth and slavered in anguish.

Take care, he told himself. Do this slowly.

About the Author:

Donna Migliaccio is a professional stage actress with credits that include Broadway, National Tours and prominent regional theatres. She is based in the Washington, DC Metro area, where she co-founded Tony award-winning Signature Theatre and is in demand as an entertainer, teacher and public speaker. Her award-winning short story, "Yaa & The Coffins," was featured in Thinkerbeat's 2015 anthology The Art of Losing.

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