|Win Judgment Rising: The Rys Chronicles Book III by Tracy Falbe|
When I wrote Judgment Rising I had conceived of it as a new entry point to The Rys Chronicles series where a reader could begin the story. Although it is the third novel of The Rys Chronicles, it picks up 5 years after the events in the first two novels. New challenges and adventures are set in motion. Some new characters are added.
Most people buy Judgment Rising after reading Union of Renegades and The Goddess Queen, but readers who enjoy epics driven by multiple characters can jump in and start reading with Book III.
Through the end of May, you can enter to win one of three ebook copies of Judgment Rising. Use the Rafflecopter form below. You can enter by leaving a comment here or liking my Brave Luck Books Facebook page.
Read this short excerpt to see if you like my style and then enter the drawing.
In this scene, Sandin Promentro seeks the favor of his Empire's war god before campaigning into the Wilderness guarded by the magical rys.
The grim statue of the anthropomorphic God of war sat across from Sandin behind the altar. Carved of black basalt, the indifferent face of the harsh God gazed beyond the ceremony taking place at his feet. Driven by desire that could never be fully satisfied, Golan surveyed Ektren with roving eyes that did not blink, not even when confronted by the worst mayhem.
Standing before the altar, the high priest wore a shining black robe and a headdress emblazoned with flames in gold leaf. Sandin approached the elderly lord of the temple, who was bent with great age and a great contradiction to the young men sent to serve Golan’s cravings.
After all the other priests kneeled, Sandin dropped to his knees before the high priest. Despite having a body withered by age and not wounds, the high priest had a strong voice that filled the sanctum.
“Great Golan, brother of civilization, look upon a warrior who comes to honor you. He is the best among the men of your chosen country, but even in his success, he knows that he is just your agent. He knows that your greatness gave him the courage to defeat his enemies.”
The priests responded together. “Golan, giver of victory, hear our praise.”
“And continue to bless Clan Promentro’s finest son with the banner of victory,” the high priest added.
“May my body and mind never waver and thereby prove worthy of Golan’s rewards in this world and in death,” Sandin said.
“Hear the pledge of the warrior and be pleased, great Golan, for there is no higher warrior in all the world,” the high priest declared.
“Golan, giver of eternal paradise, accept our warrior,” the priests intoned.
A gong was struck and the note quivered in the air like a battle cry. When it faded, the high priest continued. “Lord General, rise and present your gift to Golan, the most generous and wanton of Gods.”
Sandin obeyed and drew forth a scroll from the pouch on his belt. Although tied with a golden ribbon, it appeared an insignificant thing next to the treasures that littered the temple. Mere words on parchment seemed unbefitting the extreme appetites of war. But with the document, Sandin delivered up great wealth—an immense prize for both God and temple.
The high priest opened the scroll and after scanning the contents, which he of course already had knowledge of, announced, “Lord General Sandin has given the region of Belesti and the Pandovelari city-state of Koreltia to his patron God. From this moment forth those properties are now in the stewardship of the temple. In the name of Golan, I praise the Lord General for his mighty gift. We shall keep his name in our hearts and on our lips. Atrophane will not forget him or ignore his titles while he is away doing the work of our God.”
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