"A fast-paced, elegantly written romance that reads like the best of fairy tales."
Reviewed by Vicky Gilpin
Posted November 8, 2010
Romance Paranormal
Desperate to save her people, but stung by the Healer's
rebuff that cost the life of her child and lifemate, Mahri
Zin travels dangerous routes of the Sea Forest to kidnap a
Healer. Hoping for an apprentice whose knowledge of how to
use the Power given through zabbaroot can supplement her
own wild Master-level skills, Mahri gets more than she
bargained for. Instead of a lowly apprentice, she ends up
kidnapping the Crown Prince, an arrogantly beautiful man
with enemies of his own. In order to save those she loves,
Mahri has to decide whether her root-induced dreams are
true and how much belief she places on the conspiracies of
the Natives.
Prince Korl may be temporarily captured by the fierce water-
rat, but the combination of his arrogance and her
unwillingness to give of herself may doom their entire
world, Royals, water-rats, Natives and all of the
subterranean flora and fauna within.
BENEATH THE THIRTEEN MOONS is a fast-paced, elegantly
written romance that reads almost like the best of fairy
tales: the characters stay true to their original
characterizations even as they learn and grow throughout
the novel.
SUMMARY
He's a ruler in a divided world... In a magical
watery world of the Sea Forest, the divide between the
rulers and the people is an uncrossable chasm. Handsome,
arrogant prince Korl Com'nder has lived a life of luxury
that is nothing more than a fantasy to the people he rules.
Until the day he is accidentally kidnapped by a beautiful
outlaw smuggler and is forced to open his eyes to the world
outside his palace walls. She's an outcast, but
at least she has her independence... Mahri Zin would
stop at nothing to save her village, and when they needed a
healer she didn't think twice about kidnapping one. But when
she realizes that the healer she so impulsively stole is
none other than the crown prince of Sea Forest, Mahri knows
that she has a chance to change the fate of her people...
ExcerptChapter 1
Mahri
poled her boat around the base of the sea tree, the bone
staff she used
as much an extension of her body as her own arms. She
ducked beneath
a branch, a wide one, the limb as straight as the Power of
a Seer could
make it. The gloom of the evening blackened to inky
darkness, the slap
of the waves echoed eerily inside the cavern-like arch, and
here Mahri
chose to anchor her craft.
She
flipped her wrist in the pattern peculiar to her bone pole,
and it retracted
with a sliding hiss; her fingers shook as she slid it into
a sheath
of octopus skin. She patted the bone grapnel with its
length of
coiled rope and then dug into the small fish-scale pouch
that hung against
her hip. Mahri withdrew a small piece of zabbaroot, unsure
if it would
be enough for her task—she’d never kidnapped a man before,
how could
she possibly know?
With
a shrug, she popped it in her mouth and squeezed it with
her molars,
releasing the bitter drug of Power that shivered through
her veins and
allowed her to See. The world turned into bits and dots and
she closed
her eyes for control. The root burned her tongue and she
fought the
need to gag, then opened eyes that flickered with sparkled
light before
fading to their normal green hue. With control returned,
she’d now
only See when, and how, she wished.
A
scurry of sound beneath her collapsed sleeping tent
reminded Mahri that
she wasn’t alone. The tiny face of her pet peered up at her
from beneath
the rugged narwhal skin. The dark prevented her from making
out the
features, but she knew them so well her mind filled in the
details.
Monkey-like, with scales for fur and webbed hands and feet,
Jaja had
the agility of the native tree dwellers with the slippery
fluidity of
a sea creature. And the curiosity of a treecat.
“Stay,”
whispered Mahri, her mind reinforcing that command with
such mental
force that Jaja moaned.
Mahri
breathed deeply, quieting her thoughts so that they didn’t
project
with the equivalent of a piercing scream. I won’t risk
you in this,
Jaja. I have lost so much already.
She
only caught the most basic thoughts from her pet, but he
seemed to understand
hers with amazing accuracy, especially when she was filled
with root
Power. He scurried back beneath the tent.
Mahri
leaped from her boat, hesitated a second to adjust to a
firm surface
beneath her feet, then crept along the narrow ledge formed
by the base
of the sea tree, emerging from beneath the branch with
caution. Mahri
looked up at the balconies that spiraled around the tree,
watching for
guards, but not really expecting any. Not around the
Healer’s Tree.
The Palace, yes, and perhaps even the Seer’s Tree...but how
could
she know for sure, being only an ignorant water-rat?
What
did they do, she wondered, with water-rats that skulked
around the city
at night?
She
pulled the grapnel from her belt.
Throw
them in prison for later torture?
With
an easy swing of arms strengthened by a life of poling, she
threw the
hook up to the first balcony.
Or
maybe force them into slavery as they did the native tree
dwellers?
She
tugged, and the rope held her weight. Fear fluttered her
stomach and
was swiftly followed by the inevitable fury at that
cowardly reaction,
propelling her up the rope with the speed of a silver-
fish.
Mahri
crouched, listened to the breeze swishing through the
leaves, the soft
patter of rain that had just begun to fall, the constant
rushing, flowing
of the water surrounding the interlaced network of sea
trees. She studied
the row of carved doors that circled the tree, Seeing
beyond each door
to the occupant within.
She
knew if she went up to the top balconies that she’d find
the powerful
Master Healers. Here on the lower level slept the
apprentices and newly
learned. But all she needed was the knowledge, she would
provide more
Power than all of the Masters combined. Besides, if she
stole away with
someone of importance they might come after her, and she
hoped that
if a lowly apprentice disappeared no one would take any
notice.
So
she chose the first person she Saw snug in their bed. To
See into the
lock of the door, move the latch from here to there, took a
flick of
her Power. To See into the center of the Healer gently
snoring, and
to make those unwilling limbs move to her boat, was a
different matter.
For
a moment Mahri considered waking the sleeper. Perhaps the
Healer would
be willing to come with her? She crept closer to the bed.
She could
only make out longish, light hair, a smooth yet masculine
jawline.
With
a flash the memories of a past she’d tried desperately to
forget overwhelmed
her, of another Healer with long, pale hair. But hers had
been arranged
in artful layers of braids and pearls upon her head, and
she’d stared
at Mahri as if she were some swamp creature that had oozed
out of the
slime.
“You
truly expect me,” she said, one eyebrow raised in delicate
disbelief,
“to get in that piece of scrap you call a boat, travel into
the swamps
to heal a fever-ridden village of water-rats? And
blindfolded, no less?”
Mahri
narrowed blazing green eyes. If this woman only knew that
those ‘water-rats’
provided the city with more zabbaroot than a year of
production from
the root farms, she’d be begging to go with her. And that
Mahri herself
was a smuggler; who defied the Royal’s decree that they
possess and
distribute all the zabba, on the pretense it presented too
much danger
for the common citizen. But to Mahri’s thinking, the only
danger lay
in lack of knowledge, and the Royals hoarded that more
surely than the
root.
“Without
a blindfold,” growled Mahri, “I would have to kill you.”
Then
she almost slapped her hand over her mouth. She spoke the
truth, for
the safety of the village lay within the secrecy of their
location,
but it needn’t have been said. She never could control her
temper.
The
Healer’s face flickered with sudden fear, then feigned
annoyance.
“Use one of your own Seers then.”
“They
don’t have the knowledge you possess, as you well know.”
The
woman rose, presented her back to Mahri, and flung over her
shoulder,
“I can’t help you.”
Mahri
clasped her hands together, her lifemate’s agonized face in
her mind,
and the cries of their child, the once-perfect little hands
twisted
in agonized deformity. She swallowed her anger, and her
pride.
“Please,”
she whispered. “Is there no one that would be willing to
help?”
The
woman hesitated, her posture slumped briefly in response to
the desperate
appeal in that voice, and then too quickly stiffened.
“No
one,” she replied, then slammed the door behind her.
The
Healer on the bed snorted and rolled over, bringing Mahri
back to the
present, knowing she was mad to even consider asking for
help ever again.
Brez and her little boy, Tal’li, had died—even the thought
made
anger and guilt burn anew—and she’d become a Wilding
herself. But
the fever had only hidden, to return with a vengeance to
strike again
that same village and the only family she now had left.
And
although this time Mahri had the root tolerance she still
needed the
healing knowledge. She could See the effects of the
illness, could treat
the symptoms, but couldn’t be sure of the Pattern to cure
the disease
itself. Only one trained to know the normal body cells
could detect
the shape of a virus in time to destroy it before it could
mutate again.
Her
eyes sparkled and she Saw into the Healer’s mind, traveling
the path
that controlled muscular movement, manipulation at least
possible with
the person unconscious. Mahri lowered her face to his,
could almost
feel his breath on her cheeks, when a soft knock on the
door made her
concentration slip and her heart stop.
“My
lord?” whispered a man’s voice as the door opened a crack.
Light
fell across the Healer’s face. His eyes flew open and met
Mahri’s
for just a moment, a second of time that felt like an
eternity, and
there was a flash of recognition, as if she’d known him
long ago,
perhaps before this lifetime.
Mahri
cursed, her Vision shattered and just sufficed to keep the
Healer immobile
while she spun to face the intruder. She pulled her pole
from her belt,
flipped it once, twice, and spun a long staff at the light
globe. It
connected with a sharp thwack, the wooden holder cracked in
two, and
the globe spun along the floor.
The
man, no guard—for on his head lay the bone helm of a
warrior—reacted
with astonishing speed. She heard the hiss of bone being
drawn from
a scabbard and danced away just in time to avoid his blow.
His advantage
lay in strength, but Mahri’s in speed, the small confines
of the room
aiding her even more. And of course, she’d just chewed
root, and her
opponent looked like it had been days since he’d last felt
a fresh
flow of Power.
He
couldn’t swing wide enough for a forceful blow and resorted
to thrust
and parry. Mahri grinned, drew on the Power, and Saw
muscles tense before
her opponent could attack. Her weapon flew; the force of
the blow cracked
his helm and laid him out on the floor.
So,
Mahri thought, the Royals don’t provide Leviathan bone for
their warrior’s
gear. Her opinion of their rulers sank to a new low.
Then
she had no time for thought, for she could hear a cry being
raised,
and spun to where the Healer lay muscle-frozen on the bed,
watching
her with a combination of admiration and fury. Mahri tried
to Push his
muscles, but knew that she’d used too much of the Power in
that brief
struggle, and didn’t have the strength left to fight his
own conscious
control. And she didn’t have the time to chew more zabba.
She
flicked her wrist again, in the subtle yet complicated
pattern that
retracted her bone pole into a short staff. With her foot,
she rolled
the Healer onto his stomach, and with a muttered apology
slammed the
bone into the back of his head. Used the Power again to See
into her
own muscles and adrenal glands, taking that vigor to haul
him out of
the room, hoist him over the balcony and fling him as far
out as she
could.
There
followed a splash, instead of the thud if he would’ve hit
the base
of the sea tree, and she sighed with relief before
scrambling over the
balcony, rope-burning her hands in her attempt to get below
before he
drowned. Shouts from above and she looked up, two light
globes bobbed
on the balcony, the light reflecting off of helmed faces.
One of those
faces smirked, sawed a bone knife along the top of her
rope, then waved
at her.
Mahri
had just enough time to wonder why so many guards patrolled
a Healer
apprentice’s balcony before the rope went slack and she
fell.
And
hit the ground rolling. Her left shoulder slammed across an
upthrust
wrinkle of tree bark and she grunted with the pain of it.
She spun over
into the water, swallowed a good portion of it, and inhaled
enough to
make her strain for breath when her head broke the surface.
Something
bumped her and she turned and flung out her arm to haul the
body of
the Healer closer.
The
rain of arrows that had peppered the water suddenly
stopped. They drifted
with the current under the branch road and bumped up
against the boat.
Mahri looped an arm over the side while her other hung onto
the Healer
and fought the pull of the current, exhaustion making her
tremble. Somehow
she managed to climb into the boat, but the most she could
do was to
get the Healer halfway in. With a sob she collapsed, her
shoulder throbbed
with pain and she knew she fought against
unconsciousness.
Through
her haze she felt the gentle caress of Jaja’s webbed
fingers against
her cheek, the cool slide of his scales. Something pressed
past her
lips and she tongued the root between her teeth, bit hard
and welcomed
the flow of strength from the Power. And tried not to think
of the price
she knew she’d have to pay for it.
Mahri
hauled the man into her boat, Saw into his lungs and
convulsed the tissue
until water spewed from his mouth, reduced the movement to
gentle contractions
until he breathed on his own. She covered him with the
narwhal skin
and positioned herself towards the bow, feet splayed,
confidence spreading
through her with the comfortable feel of the current
beneath her boat.
She sensed Jaja weigh anchor, slid free her staff, the bone
almost warm
in her hands, and twisted her wrist to expand it.
Mahri
poled, offering a brief silent thanks to the Leviathan of
the deep for
the gift of his bone, and the Power that made the forging
of it possible,
for the structure of it wouldn’t yield to any other means.
It took
great skill to wield a bone staff, and many long years of
training to
learn the intricate movements that released the hidden
locks to expand
and contract the pole. But it had been worth it, for the
price given
had already been repaid with the saving of her life many
times over.
Mahri
used the current, as only a skilled water-rat could, by
sensing its
flow and nudging it with the Power. With long practice she
kept her
contact shallow, knowing that the sea lay just below,
flowing around
the roots of the sea trees, unobstructed by the enormous
growth that
hampered its movements above the surface.
The
sounds of alarm grew faint behind her, and she allowed
herself to relax.
In the maze of water channels lay a measure of safety; the
real danger
of pursuit would be when she reached the cove, a large
stretch of open
water that led to the open sea. From there thousands of
channels led
into the “swamps”—what the city-dwellers called the younger
part
of their forest—but any direct routes to them were heavily
patrolled
by the guards.
They
occasionally passed other boats. The light globes that hung
on their
bows, and her Sight, made them easy to avoid, as long as
the passage
stayed wide. No lights lit her small craft; they crept
along the inky
water, the rain now a light misting that clung to her
eyelashes like
dew drops.
Mahri
bottom-poled through the city channels, for the roots of
this old forest
lay thickly woven together, and the sea flowed over them at
a shallow
depth. She imagined the city as a safe haven perched atop
its tangle
of roots, protected from the monsters that swam beneath it.
In the swamps
lurked places of deep water where she’d have to tap her
pole against
the edges of the trees for steerage, and be twice as
vigilant against
the dangers that lurked in those bottomless channels.
Mahri
sighed. She still preferred the swamps. For although the
sea spewed
forth some nasty beasts, it also produced beautiful,
astonishing creations
that never ceased to amaze her. Every journey through those
snaking
passages resulted in a discovery, made her marvel anew at
this wondrous
world. She watched the peacefully sleeping city they
traveled through
and knew that it would bore her to death.
Jaja
hopped on her shoulder, his favorite perch when they
traveled, and patted
it reassuringly. Mahri winced, for her injury still pained
her, and
used her thoughts to distract her from it.
Somewhere
below she knew the sea must stop, and wondered what lay
beneath it.
Only the trees were solid in her world, they sustained
life; animals,
insects and plants all parasites on their bodies. She
couldn’t imagine
what something could sustain the all-powerful trees.
Perhaps
her ancestors had known but that knowledge had either been
lost or lay
buried within the Royals’ hoard of records.
They
cruised through a warren of city homes; caverns hollowed
from thick
bark, or branches twisted into curved structures by the
Power of a Seer.
Front doors opened onto the water, balconies a few paces
wide created
small landings which tethered boats in all shapes and
sizes. The white
gleam of seashells used for decoration reflected the glow
of the myriad
moons overhead.
The
Healer moaned and her attention centered on her unwilling
passenger.
Now would not be a good time for him to wake. Mahri
centered the boat,
went aft, and trussed him like a pig-fish. She frowned,
remembering
that feeling she’d had when their eyes had met, and with a
feather
touch she brushed the long, pale hair away from his face.
Curled from
the damp, the silky strands of it wrapped around her
fingers, tumbled
across his smooth brow. High cheekbones, a strong chin. A
straight nose
that tipped up at the end saved him from being classically
handsome,
to just boyishly so.
Mahri
sighed, ran a callused finger along the fullness of his
bottom lip,
and Jaja hopped from her shoulder in apparent disgust. She
snatched
back her hand as if it’d been burned, tried to think of the
nastiest
curse she knew, gave up and just spit. She’d never reacted
like this
toward another man, not even her lifemate. Why couldn’t she
have stumbled
across an ugly, old Healer?
A
light globe that hung outside a treehome flared behind
them, the phosphorescent
creature trapped within giving one last surge before dying.
Mahri glanced
up, saw the spray from the bow of a craft that pursued them
with deadly
stealth and this time swore aloud.
She
retracted her pole, used only the Power, Seeing the tiny
particles that
composed the water, shaking and stirring them until foam
erupted around
the sides of her boat. Unfamiliar with the city, Mahri
still sensed
the pathways of the sea and her smaller vessel surged
between channels
that formed the back alleys of the homes. The odor of raw
sewage made
her gasp from the stench; the waves she’d created butted
against garbage
that she deliberately refused to See.
When
she felt the cove just ahead she gratefully eased the
agitation from
the foam. Her shoulder pounded in agony when she started to
pole again,
the root’s Power that had drained with their flight had let
the full
pain of that hurt through. She wished she’d Seen to it when
she’d
had a chance. Hopefully when they reached the cove they’d
be lost
in the blackness and she wouldn’t have to paddle but just
drift with
the current.
Her
passenger grunted.
Mahri
armed sweat from her face. First guards, then determined
pursuit. Surely,
a bit too much attention for a novice.
“Who
in the-thirteen-moons are you anyway?” she snapped over her
shoulder.
No
answer. What had that guard said when he’d come into the
room? Had
he called the Healer “lord”? Only Royals were addressed by
that
title—her luck couldn’t be that rotten! Besides, what would
a Royal
be doing learning the art of a Healer? Usually a selfless
task, certainly
knowledge not required for the ruling of the Forest.
Perhaps he was
the youngest son of a low-ranked Royal?
Mahri
breathed a sigh of relief. That’s it! A few loyal guards,
easily shaken.
A token show of interest for a barely worthy relation.
Thunder
growled and the rain that fell every night thickened to a
deluge when
they reached the cove. She traded pole for oar—with regret
for the
alien feel of wood instead of bone in her hands—and paddled
into the
middle of the black water.
She
had to squint against the downfall which obscured the
lights of the
wharf and the myriad moons. Between rolls of thunder she
could hear
in which direction the wharf lay, for even at night the
taverns and
trading houses spewed forth laughter, chanties, and the
occasional scream.
The temptation to hide out at Vissa’s for a breather came
and went.
Although it might help shake any pursuers, the
complications it could
cause…
The
image of daring black eyes and clever hands made her grin.
She
hadn’t the time for anything but a direct route to the
village, and
if she tempted death by abusing the root in order to get
there, so be
it. If she arrived too late, she might as well not return
at all.
The
seashells entwined in her long, braided hair tinkled gently
when Jaja
climbed up to hop on her shoulder. He chattered in her ear,
his tail
half-spread into a fin from his excitement and she reached
back to smooth
it down.
“What
is it?” she whispered.
Her
hand froze, muscles paralyzed in a grip she struggled to
break. She
could feel the Touch through the rest of her body, the
tingle spreading
through her legs, snapping her spine rigid. Again Jaja
pressed root
between her lips and with a surge of Power she broke that
other’s
grip.
Master,
she thought. Not as powerful as she, thank-the-moons, but
strong enough
that it couldn’t have been a casual encounter. Her pursuers
had found
them, and now enlisted the aid of a Master Seer!
Lightning
flashed and she saw a large, black shape bearing down on
them. Only
a warrior ship would be that big—had she the entire fleet
after her?
Mahri went aft, stood over her unwilling passenger, and
nudged him with
her foot.
“You’re
not a low-ranked anything, are you?”
As
she suspected, he’d been awake. Large, round eyes looked up
at her,
caught the reflection of the lightning when it flared
again. And exposed
their position to their pursuers, for a slew of arrows
tipped with the
poisonous spikes of an anemone suddenly fell around them.
Mahri
crouched, winced when an arrow thudded home next to the
Healer’s ear.
“Whoever you are,” she said, “It seems like your rescuers
don’t
care if they get you back alive.”
His
words floated through the black night. “You’re actions have
made
me vulnerable to my enemies.”
Mahri
felt a shiver run through her at the sound of his voice.
Something about
it, the deep timbre, the cultured words, sparked something
inside of
her that she hadn’t known existed. A longing that...ach!
What was
the matter with her? She’d never responded so idiotically
to anyone
before.
Still,
she wasn’t sure if she questioned him just to hear his
voice again.
“Who are you?”
Lightning
flashed, another volley of arrows, and this time the black
shape loomed
closer. Her captive’s eyes widened. “Korl—” he managed,
then
began to spasm on the deck.
Mahri
rocked back on her heels. Couldn’t be, she thought. After
all, a lot
of people went by the name of Korl; her luck just couldn’t
be...
“Not
Prince Korl!” she groaned.
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