The Dragon's Tamer
Author: Megan Derr
Date: 2011-03-15 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; M M Romance; dragons; Romance; Magic; Short Stories; Paranormal; M M Fantasy; Lgbt; High Fantasy
Description: Summoned to the royal palace by the King, Alaith spends his days either handling the dragons that plague the kingdom, or holed up in his lonely tower. Unusual in appearance, manner, and his method of taming dragons rather than slaying them, his only distractions from his painfully outcast state are caring for the tamed dragon who resides with him, and admiring the handsome Lord Trey—and arguing with the infuriating Prince Rythe.
Publisher: Trabuco Ridge Press
Rights: Megan Haskell

Contents

Copyright no newsletter

Pixie Tamer

Request for Reviews & Newsletter Subscription

Excerpts from Sanyare

Pixies Chapter 1

Pixies Chapter 8

Pixies Chapter 12

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Sanyare: The Last Descendant

Chapter 1

Author Bio

Copyright © 2016 Megan Haskell

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations used in book reviews or certain other noncommercial uses as permitted by copyright law.

Cover Designed by Deranged Doctor Design (www.derangeddoctordesign.com)

Published by Trabuco Ridge Press

Pixie Tamer

Blades clashed. Men and women grunted and swore as they battled, the smell of sweat heavy in the confined space of the training hall. With class nearly at an end, it was the last chance to prove mastery over the day’s lessons.

Rie grit her teeth, pushing back against Galadir’s superior strength. It was her nameday, and by the gods, she would not lose today. If she were anyone else, she would have spent the entire week celebrating her arrival to maturity, but no, she was human, and not allowed the privileges of the adult high elves. She wasn’t even allowed the privileges of the lesser fae. No apprenticeship, no career, no opportunities. She would be forever known as “Nuriel” — Servant-Daughter — no matter that she preferred Rie instead.

Galadir ground down on Rie, his greater weight forcing her back a step.

“Footwork!” shouted Curuthannor, her warden and the class instructor. He paced the middle of the room, watching his fighters train. He was tough on all of his warriors, but especially Rie. True, he and his lifemate had never treated Rie with anything less than respect and even love, but they weren’t her parents, and they were still high elves. Curuthannor stayed aloof and distant, rarely speaking a kind word and almost never smiling.

“Nuriel, move your feet and use your brain. Get out of there.” Curuthannor approached their fight.

Rie shook the sweat out of her eyes. She couldn’t embarrass herself. She wouldn’t.

Aiming a front kick at the high elf’s knee, Rie forced Galadir back a step. She spun under his outstretched arm. Landed an elbow in his gut. Galadir puffed out a gust of air, recovered. Sliced in and down. Rie ducked out of the way, but barely. They moved apart, circling and waiting for the next opportunity.

“Happy nameday,” Galadir said, a teasing light in his eyes. “Get any good gifts?”

“Beating you is all I need.”

“Good luck with that.” Galadir winked, then launched forward, both knives slicing across Rie’s midsection. Rie jumped back, once again on the defensive.

Galadir was the son of one of the King’s advisors, a mid-ranking noble with aspirations of moving higher. Galadir himself planned to move into his father’s position in a few hundred years, when the older man finally retired. But right now, in this room, he and Rie were of equal rank. For these few minutes, Rie could let herself imagine what it would be like to be an elf and be able to say and do what she wished. To look into the high elf’s eyes and tease him, maybe even flirt a little. She was twenty-five years old, and it was high time she pursued the man that had played an active role in her dreams since the day he walked into the training hall ten years before.

Galadir was nearly as tall as Curuthannor, with golden hair braided back at the sides, just touching his collar. His piercing blue eyes seemed to be able to see into Rie’s soul, though as a high elf, that was impossible. The dark art of soul magic was reserved for the denizens of the Shadow Realm. No, Galadir’s magic was mood based. He could manipulate a person’s emotions, making them feel whatever he wanted.

Rie focused her attention on the fight. Block, kick, spin, slice. It was probably the only dance she would ever get to have with this man, but it was better than nothing.

“Nuriel, focus. You’re better than this,” Curuthannor shouted.

Rie dodged another strike. She slid underneath Galadir’s longer reach. Scored a hit to his chest plate. The blades were dull practice knives, of course, not intended to injure the users. Trainees were more likely to be injured in hand to hand combat than blade practice. This class in particular used a blade called a khukuri, an 8 to 10 inch curved knife with a bulbous tip, designed for slicing and hacking, not stabbing.

“Point, Rie,” she said, winking back at Galadir. His eyes narrowed, but a smile curved his lips.

“You won’t get another. And you do realize, you don’t get to choose a name for yourself. I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with Nuriel.”

Rie’s lips pulled down in a frown. “Thanks for the reminder.” She kicked her leg up into a high roundhouse. Galadir caught her foot. Flipped her over. Rie landed on her feet, one hand placed lightly on the bamboo floor of the training hall.

“You’ll have to be faster than that.” Galadir teased. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he smiled down at her, and Rie felt her heart skip a beat. In twenty-five years, he was the first to be able to do that to her.

Most of the high elves were so reserved, so formal, they almost didn’t have a personality. Their beauty, so cold despite the warm light of the Upper Realm, didn’t appeal to Rie’s passions.

Galadir was different. Like Lhéwen, Curuthannor’s lifemate and Rie’s second warden, Galadir was warm and friendly, not only speaking with her as if she were any other elf, but really listening to her. Like knowing it was her nameday. Even if he had known the date, a typical high elf wouldn’t have remembered, and certainly wouldn’t have bothered to mention it.

Galadir lunged forward, scoring two hits and dancing away before Rie could react. Rie stumbled. It was hard to focus when she would prefer to be doing something equally sweaty, but much dirtier, with the man in front of her.

“Two points. Still think you’re going to beat me?” Galadir grinned, his smile sending shivers of delight fluttering in Rie’s belly.

“You’re getting distracted again, Nuriel,” Curuthannor called out.

“Let’s just finish this,” Rie replied. She jabbed forward, slicing her blade where Galadir’s neck should have been, but he crouched, grabbing her forward leg and taking her down to the floor.

“Good, Galadir,” Curuthannor called. “Nuriel, we will speak after class.”

Still lying on top of her, Galadir grinned. “I think this is a pretty good position for you,” he said. “Now that you’re of age, if you decide you want to try the life of a courtesan, you can always look me up.”

A few of the other trainees laughed, their fights over. “I didn’t know you liked to slum it,” one of them taunted.

Rie flushed as Galadir helped her stand. “I don’t think that line of work would suit,” she replied tersely, trying to save what dignity she retained. It didn’t matter that she had imagined the act at least a thousand times, the life he was talking about was degrading. A courtesan could be passed around to anyone, relied on the charity and generosity of her benefactor, and could be dropped from favor as soon as the patron lost interest. She might be human, but that wasn’t the kind of relationship she was interested in.

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know,” Galadir whispered into her ear as he moved to stand with the others around the edge of the room. “I pay well.”

Another flutter tickled her insides, then drifted away. Rie cocked her head to the side as the attraction dimmed.

Galadir’s touch had been so delicate, she hadn’t noticed she was being manipulated. Sure, she was and always had been tempted by his quick smile and good looks, but to be so distracted…it wasn’t like her. Any good warrior would use whatever advantage they had in a fight, and he had used her attraction against her.

Rie’s stomach sank. Bile rose to the back of her throat. She closed her eyes, choking back the tears of humiliation and frustration. She would never be able to match these high elves and their magic. Curuthannor’s training was a useless waste of time.

The last to leave the floor, Rie lifted her chin and avoided the gazes that were trained on her. She wished she could run from the room, but knew any reaction would make everything worse. Not to mention it was against training hall procedure and Curuthannor would be furious.

Rie finished the closing stretches in a daze, her concentration gone. She tried to sneak out the door amidst the trainees after class, but Curuthannor was watching for her. “Nuriel, come with me.”

Rie groaned and rubbed a hand across her sweaty brow, mopping the liquid as best she could. “With your permission, I would like to get cleaned up before our meeting,” Rie said, offering Curuthannor a modest bow from the waist.

“No need. You will have an opportunity to bathe later.”

Under normal circumstances, Curuthannor would insist she be presentable before a meeting in his office, which meant she wasn’t done with the day’s training, yet. Rie took a deep breath and steeled herself for whatever trial her warden had in store for her.

Curuthannor turned on his heel, expecting obedience. Rie clenched her jaw but followed precisely two steps behind, as she’d been trained to do since toddlerhood. They proceeded down the airy covered walkway that led from the training hall to the main estate. Before reaching the house, Curuthannor veered off the path. Striding out from under the heavy grape vines and into the spring afternoon drizzle, Rie tried to guess where they were headed. The only buildings in this direction were some old storehouses used in the fall harvest.

Curuthannor led the way toward the nearest of these sheds and stopped outside the door. “You disappointed me, today.” He began, his voice firm, but not harsh. “You got distracted and Galadir was able to read every emotion pulsing off your skin. You let him win that fight, and you didn’t need to.”

“He’s faster and stronger,” Rie defended.

“No, he’s not. If you would only think while you fight, Galadir would never have been able to put you in that position.”

Rie shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. And I’m going to prove it to you. Inside this room are twelve carnivorous pixies. They were fed this morning, but they’re probably getting hungry again by now.” Quick as a striking viper, Curuthannor sliced a shallow cut into Rie’s arm, then slid the blade back into the hidden sheath on his bracer.

Rie bit back a gasp. The cut stung, but worse, the pixies would smell the blood. If they were hungry enough, they would swarm, relentlessly attacking until they were either satiated or dead. Twelve pixies could do a lot of damage in a very small amount of time. They probably wouldn’t kill her — she hoped, anyway — but disfigurement, even handicap wasn’t out of the question.

“You will enter this room, and you will leave without being bitten,” Curuthannor continued. “You have ten minutes. Prove to yourself and to me that your training has done some good.”

Without another word, Curuthannor opened the door and shoved Rie inside to face the smallest, but potentially deadliest, predators in the Upper Realm.

Quickly, before she had even recovered from the shove, Rie drew her dagger from the sheath on her waist. Somersaulting toward the middle of the dimly lit room, she pulled her only other weapon, a small but functional boot knife, and stood, waiting for the attack. She didn’t know much about pixies, except that you could usually hear a swarm before you saw them. Their wings tended to buzz when they moved at speed, and the clicks and whistles of their vocalizations were unmistakable.

The first strike came from above and behind her. Homing in on the sound, Rie blocked. The little fae spun across the floor in a crumpled heap. Rie grimaced, momentarily regretting the need to hurt the creature, but couldn’t think about it when three more attacked. She spun. Flung her body into a twisting backflip. Rotated around to swat at another pixie. She kept moving, using her arms and feet to keep the lesser fae at a distance.

Launching into a back tuck, Rie reversed direction. A few small, sealed windows lined the wall near the roof. The windows were smeared with dirt, but if she could get one open it would be an easy exit for the pixies.

Rie was only moderately accurate throwing knives, but all she needed to do was break the glass, and the pixies would be free to leave. She threw the boot knife as hard as she could at the closest window. It spun, end-over-end, the pommel shattering the thin pane and allowing a bright shaft of light to illuminate the floor.

Four pixies immediately escaped, leaving the rest to fend for themselves. Another was highlighted for the tiniest fraction of a second as it passed through the sunlight, and Rie got her first decent look at the creatures she was fighting.

They were small, maybe two or three inches tall, with translucent wings and solid black eyes. Hairless, but wearing no clothes, the male fae bared his teeth in a predatory smile. Rie swiped at him with the flat side of her dagger, but he managed to avoid the strike, forcing Rie to duck and roll into the jagged circle of unimpeded light from the broken window.

Swinging her right hand out, Rie again swatted at the attacking creature. The light caught the facets of the emerald in the only piece of jewelry Rie wore; a ring Lhéwen had gifted to Rie on her fifteenth nameday. The light fractured, sending dancing reflections across the far wall. Two of the pixies veered away to investigate the refraction. Hearing another group headed her direction, Rie turned to meet them, but they, too, were focused on the dancing green lights. Even the male was fascinated by the reflections.

Rie paused, out of breath, in the middle of the room, using her ring to keep the pixies entertained. With every movement of her hand, the pixies followed, trying to catch the light. When they did, the skin of their hand or arm would flash the exact same color, while the rest of their body matched the surrounding walls. It was no wonder they were so hard to spot, they could camouflage themselves against any backdrop. When it became clear they were no longer interested in attacking her, Rie sat on the dusty floor, and watched.

The pixies were all strikingly similar, their sex the only obvious differentiation. However, after a minute or two of study, Rie began to note the small markings that identified each individual, like the criss-crossing scar across one male’s backside, just below his wings. It looked as if he had been hit with an insect-swatter. And one of the females had a small black spot on her shoulder that couldn’t change color like the rest of her skin.

Eventually, the one with the spot on her shoulder turned to look at Rie.

“How are you doing this?” the tiny female asked, her voice like a wind-chime of tiny bells.

Rie sat up straighter and her mouth dropped open. “You speak the common tongue?” she asked.

“Of course.” The pixie pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, propping her hands on her hips. “You greater fae think you’re so superior. Just because we’re small, doesn’t mean we’re stupid.”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Rie replied. “I simply had no idea. I don’t know much about your species.”

“Why would you? You all think we’re bugs, to be disposed of without thought or conscience, without any pretense of polite behavior.”

“Again, I apologize.”

“Save it for Possn. You broke her wing.” The pixie pointed to another female huddled in the corner. Tears dripped down her face and her wing was bent at an awkward angle. “All she wanted was to ask when, or if, we would be released. But you swatted her away like a common fly.”

“I thought you were attacking. I was told you had been left hungry, and my arm was sliced open.”

“Despite the tales, we’re not entirely savage,” the female huffed. “We’re quite capable of containing our appetites.”

Feeling entirely underprepared, Rie was stricken by the thought she had hurt an intelligent being due to a misunderstanding. If she had only known more, she would never have entered the room ready to kill.

The other six pixies turned to look at Rie, leaving the spots of light alone. Rie crawled forward, holding her hand out to the injured female, who shrank away in fear. “I promise I won’t hurt you again,” Rie soothed. “Please let me look.”

After a moment’s hesitation, and a nod from the apparent leader of the swarm, the pixie crawled forward to sit in Rie’s palm. Cradling the tiny creature carefully, Rie studied the wing without touching it. Similar to a dragonfly, the pixie had four wings that arced away from the middle of her back. But like a bat, two long jointed bones ran along the upper edge of each wing, creating the wing shape, while a group of smaller bones ranged out from the joint and down, providing tension on the translucent membrane. The outermost long bone of the upper right wing was broken, hanging limply to her side. Rie cringed, realizing this wound might prevent the female from ever flying again.

Rie rested her chin on the heel of her hand while she worried over her error. This whole trial hadn’t been her idea, and she felt awful for the consequences.

“If you’ll let me, I can try to splint the bone. If it heals well, I think you might be able to fly again,” she said.

“We have our own healers,” the leader piped up.

“Then let me take her to them. I never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to hurt any of you. I am truly sorry.”

The leader cocked her head to the side in an avian manner. “You would make amends?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The leader turned to the rest of the group, clicking and squeaking in conversation. Eventually, they must have come to a consensus.

“All right. Each of us requires tribute as well as our freedom, and Possn needs a safe place to recover. And we still want to know how you made the green lights on the wall.”

“The lights are easy, it’s just a reflection from my ring.” Rie waved her hand in small motions, sending the lights spinning again. The pixies made appreciative noises, then turned back to face her.

“And everything else?” the leader asked, cocking her head to the side again.

“I’ve already set you free. I broke the window open.” Rie pointed to the window she had smashed. “And I will happily let Possn stay with me as long as necessary to recover. But I don’t know what you mean by tribute.”

“Tribute. Don’t you speak the common tongue?” the pixie chided. “A gift of gratitude, respect, or admiration.”

Rie snorted at the pixie’s impertinence. “I know the definition, but I don’t know what you want.”

The pixie shrugged. “What do you have to offer?”

Rie thought about it for a moment. She didn’t have much with her, but with the pixies’ small size, they probably didn’t need much. “I can give you anything on my person that you can carry, except my ring. That was an irreplaceable gift. Otherwise, please take what you want with my gratitude for your forgiveness and understanding.”

Huddling together as a group, the pixies clicked and whistled, glancing over their shoulders every once in awhile at Rie’s seated form.

“Done,” the leader finally announced. “My name is Niinka, and I will take one of your gold buttons,” the leader said, pointing to the line of buttons on Rie’s cuff.

Rie agreed without hesitation, cutting off the button with her dagger.

“My name is Hiinto, and I will take the shoelace off your left boot,” said the male pixie with the broad grin.

Rie looked down at her foot. The shoelace in question was torn about two inches from the end, the threads barely holding on. “The broken one?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m a pixie, I know what I like.”

Rie shrugged, and untied her boot.

“I’m Tiik. I’d like one of the beads from your hair.”

Rie nodded slightly, unwinding her bun and sliding one of the decorative silver beads off her nearly black hair. She held it out to the second male pixie, who gleefully put his entire arm through the hole and wore it like a gigantic bracelet.

The rest of the pixies chose their tribute, all except Possn. “Possn, Right?” Rie asked, lifting the pixie up to eye level. “I owe you a bigger tribute for your pain. You can stay with me in my rooms, and I will give you a prize each day, until you can once again fly. Will that be acceptable?”

The pixie nodded, her head bobbing vigorously.

The door opened behind her. The visitor took one step into the room and stopped. When Rie stood and turned to look, she was greeted with an image she’d never before seen. Curuthannor surprised.

“The pixies all live?”

“Well, four of them escaped through the window,” Rie pointed to the broken pane, “which I will repair, of course. And this one broke her wing when I knocked her to the ground, but yes, otherwise they are all here and healthy.”

“Why?”

“It seems that pixies are not the savage carnivores most people believe. When I realized they weren’t really attacking me, we negotiated a truce.”

“I see.”

“They have been kind enough to forgive my ignorance.”

Curuthannor’s lips curved into a smile that reached all the way to his eyes. Rie felt her own answering smile spread across her face. This might be the first time she had ever felt like she’d earned Curuthannor’s respect.

“Well done. And did you learn anything?”

“Keeping a level head and thinking through a problem is faster and more efficient than jumping into a fight with bared blades. If I had paused to consider the first pixie’s approach, I wouldn’t have had to fight at all, and she wouldn’t have been injured.”

Curuthannor nodded, and clasped his hands behind his back. “And how does that apply to your fight with Galadir?”

“If I had been thinking clearly, I would have realized that he was using his power to manipulate my emotions, and I would have had a chance to fight against the compulsion. But how can I do that without first realizing I’m being manipulated, especially in a situation where I don’t know the person’s abilities?”

“You must always be on your guard, always question others’ motivations. Use your head, not your heart, at least until you are confident you’ve found an ally.”

“But that’s so cold. Don’t you trust anyone?”

“I trust my lifemate, and I trust you. Isn’t that enough?”

Rie felt her spine straighten at the compliment, an irrepressible grin stretching across her face.

“Now, let’s go celebrate your nameday. I believe Grmelda has cooked something special for dinner, and Lhéwen has a gift for you, as well.”

“What about the pixies?”

“They are, of course, free to go.”

“Actually,” Niinka, the leader interrupted, “a few of us would like to stay with you, if you’ll allow.”

Curuthannor’s eyebrows lifted, and he turned to watch Rie.

“I would be honored, but I’m afraid I don’t know your living requirements,” Rie replied, carefully. She didn’t necessarily object to having the pixies around. Especially if they continued to be rational. But being unfamiliar with their habits and core nature, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

“Not to worry, we’ll make do.” Niinka grinned, serrated teeth glinting in the light coming through the window.

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Excerpts from Sanyare

I created Pixie Tamer in response to the reader feedback I received in the early days of Sanyare's release. Everyone seemed to love my vicious little guys, and I heard things like "so much fun!" and "not what I expected, at all!" I knew that there was something great embedded in these tiniest of characters, and I wanted to write a story that prominently featured their relationship with Rie, where readers could learn more about their history.

Now, if you've already read Sanyare, you know all about the mischief the pixies get into. But in case you haven't, here are a few more snippets featuring the pixies from Sanyare!

Enjoy!

Excerpt From Chapter 1

The man screamed, gun firing two rounds in quick succession. Rie flattened against the log, but the rounds weren’t aimed at her. Poking her head above the wood again, Rie gagged, the contents of her stomach threatening to spill onto the sand.

The pixies were hard at work. A fine red mist gathered like a cloud around the assassin’s head. He swatted at empty air, turning in circles, but never close to touching Rie’s friends. His cheeks disappeared first, hollowing out as the pixies stole chunks of soft tissue. Only visible as a flash when they paused to strike, the pixies made fast work of the man’s face. With little meat left on his cheeks and Hiinto harassing his eyes, Niinka tunneled into the skin beneath his jaw. His scream abruptly cut off, Rie assumed when Niinka bit through his vocal cords.

The assassin faced her, mouth gaping like a fish. Lidless eyes glared, whites showing all the way around the chocolate colored iris. He stepped forward, lifted his gun for a final attempt on Rie’s life. Hiinto landed hard on his wrist, clawing his way into the tendons and veins, sending the weapon to the ground along with a hard spray of arterial blood. Having eaten most of the man’s tongue, Niinka crawled out through his mouth. Rie stood, aimed. A flick of her wrist sent the knife spinning through the air, once, twice. The third round connected the pointed blade deep into the man’s neck.

The pixies continued to feed as the assassin fell face first into the sand. Blood arced from multiple wounds, slowing along with his heart rate. The pixies, bloated with blood and flesh, flew to Rie’s side, bobbing drunkenly from side to side.

“Sorry we were late,” Hiinto said, his head tilted to the side. Blood and gore streaked his face and body from eyes to bellybutton. “We got a little distracted when you cut the first one.”

“They were blood sidhe, not human. A more complex flavor, more depth to savor,” Niinka added, dragging her fingers one by one through her mouth, licking off every drop of red liquid she could find. Despite her trip through the gunman’s throat, she was already clean, only a few spots of red marring her smooth white complexion.

Excerpt From Chapter 8

“So?” she asked, daring Braegan to meet her gaze.

Braegan coughed, covering his mouth with one closed fist. “You look…dangerous.”

“That’s it? That’s all you can say?” Niinka buzzed around Braegan’s head while he ineffectually swatted at her. “Do you have cotton for brains, or marbles for eyes? She looks fantastic! Like a red and black tigress on the prowl.”

“Like a barbarian princess,” Possn chimed from her perch near the front door, surprising Rie. The shyest of the lot, Possn usually stayed hidden and quiet. She and Niinka had chosen to travel with Rie on her shopping trip, while the men explored the city on their own. Braegan had put up with them, seeming to get used to having them pop up randomly out of nowhere. Of course, it was a lot easier to deal with the girls, one of whom barely spoke, than the more mischievous guys.

“No! Like a demonatrix!” Niinka tinkled a laugh.

“Don’t you mean dominatrix?” Braegan asked.

“Nope. A demonatrix. She’ll suck out your soul while she sucks you dry, and you’ll beg for more!”

Excerpt From Chapter 12

“Where in hell have you been?” Braegan asked. “Your pixie friends have been nothing but trouble.”

“What have they done now?”

“First, they attacked Tryg’s pet goat…”

“Tryg, the troll bartender? He has a pet goat?”

“Cliché, I know, but true nonetheless. And your pixies thought she was fair game for dinner. Tryg disagreed. I eventually calmed him down, but not before he caught one of the pixies in a jar.”

Niinka zoomed out from the crowd and fluttered near Rie, but out of reach of Braegan’s swatting hand. Her shrill voice vibrated with anger. “Liar! He ratted on us, to get us out of the way. He’s only mad Tryg couldn’t catch us all.”

Rie frowned, her thoughts scrambling to catch up. “But you were trying to eat Tryg’s goat?”

“Well, yes,” Niinka admitted. “But we didn’t know it was Tryg’s goat. It was all a set up. He,” Niinka thrust a tiny finger in Braegan’s direction, “told us to go in back and find something to eat. What were we supposed to think?”

“Maybe that you should get some salami or something. Not eat a live goat, lovingly tended in her own private stall,” Braegan said.

“Ew. Cured meat? No, thank you!”

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Sanyare: The Last Descendant

"I do love a good urban fantasy, and this hit all the sweet spots. Complex relationships and a driving plot make this book a must read!" -- Bestselling Author Sherry D. Ficklin

"A bad ass heroine, funny side characters, great world building, and an interesting story that leaves you wanting more." -- Angel Erin's Book Obsession

"Fantasy, Action, Magic, Sexy Elves, Sexy Vamps - it really has it all. If you love fantasy, you'll enjoy this!" -- Katie McCoach Editorial

BRAG Medallion Winner!

A woman torn between honor and survival…

Raised in a realm where humans are no better than slaves, Rie Lhethannien has struggled for decades to earn a meager post in the High Court messenger service. Even training as an elite fighter isn’t enough to earn the respect she craves. Scorned by the high elves who rely on her loyalty, Rie’s closest allies are the fierce carnivorous pixies who travel by her side.

When she’s attacked on a routine delivery by assassins from the enemy Shadow Realm, Rie’s martial prowess keeps her alive…and frames her as a traitor. Facing execution at the hand of an unmerciful king, Rie must forsake her oaths and flee into enemy lands to prove her innocence. With surprising help from a bastard prince and an ambitious blood sidhe, Rie searches for the truth behind the attack. The secrets she uncovers may threaten more than her honor or even her life…for war is looming in the nine faerie realms.

Sanyare: The Last Descendant is the first book in the Sanyare Chronicles, a fast-paced dark fantasy adventure. If you like kick-butt heroines and action-packed fantasy filled with mythological creatures, then you’ll love the first novel in Megan Haskell’s debut series. Start your journey across the nine faerie realms today!

Start your adventure across the 9 Faerie Realms Today!

Chapter 1

With a deep breath, Rie left the pretensions of the High Court and its glittering throng behind her. The portal stretched and squeezed, drawing her cell by cell from the hard marble hall onto soft sand touched by gentle waves. She rested her hand on the cool sandstone that arched above her head, gathering her bearings as her heart rate calmed.

Centering herself, Rie pulled the salty stink of fish deep into her lungs before beginning the two-mile walk to Lord Garamaen’s beachfront estate. The beach was hushed, as if setting the stage for the first appearance of the sun above the hills. Even the birds held their breath. It was too early for the tourists and dog-walkers to be out, and only a few surfers lounged on the calm waves in the distance. Rie savored the quiet, even if her two tiny companions didn’t.

“The human realm is so boring,” Hiinto said, spittle landing on Rie’s cheek.

She wiped it away, careful not to swat the two-inch pixie holding onto her ear, but made a show of flinging the spit off to the side.

“Why can’t we go somewhere new and fun?” he continued.

“Please. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You’d hide in Rie’s hair the whole time,” Niinka replied from her makeshift swing at Rie’s belt. She lounged upside down, appearing as nothing more than a trinket on a chain hanging out of Rie’s pocket, while she sharpened her claws to a precise point.

“Not true!”

Rie clenched her jaw, biting back her irritation. They were her friends, but sometimes she wished they would act like adults, rather than siblings.

“It is true, and you know it,” Niinka said.

“Quiet,” Rie snapped, patience gone. A headache throbbed behind her forehead. She needed to focus.

Two men stood on the beach, directly in her path. Still at least fifty yards away, they seemed out of place without the surfboards or exercise attire of the usual early morning crowd. Rie paused, assessing. The blond one crouched, taking something out of a bag in the sand. He flipped it once, a shard of light glinting into Rie’s eyes. The throbbing in her brain burst in white-hot light, leaving her blind to the real world as she entered a vision.

The blond man stands, facing her. He pulls his arm back, a knife whistles toward her. Blood streams from her belly, her shirt soaked in seconds, the sand absorbing the overflow. The sky is all she sees, expansive gray-blue dotted with thin wispy clouds. A small hand taps her face. Niinka’s wide black eyes float into view. Then darkness.

Rie gasped, coming out of the premonition. The blond man rose from his crouch, facing her. His arm pulled back.

Sending her thanks to the gods for the warning, Rie spun left as a knife passed through the air where she had stood. Dropping into a crouch, she scuttled behind a large rocky outcropping, just as another knife hit the sand at her feet. She picked it up, testing the weight as adrenaline surged and her heart rate sped. Fear twisted a knot of dread in her gut.

Curuthannor’s training kicked in. This might be her first life or death fight, but he had prepared her well. She took a cleansing breath, washed away the fear and replaced it with determination. The pixies let go of their hiding spots, chattering in the clicks and whistles of their native tongue. Rie ignored them, focusing instead on her surroundings, and her options. Stairs wound up the cliff to her left, heading toward the street above, but a hundred feet of open space stretched between her rock and the first step. No matter how fast she moved, she’d be an easy target. If she ran back toward the arch, she’d be similarly open to attack.

Rie grabbed a handful of sand with her left hand, while her right hand reached behind and traded the unfamiliar throwing knife for one of two eight-inch khukuri blades in the horizontal sheath at her lower back.

“What are they doing?” she asked Hiinto.

The little pixie crawled atop the rock, his translucent wings pulled back and naked skin camouflaged to match the color and texture of the sandstone. “They’ve split up, one on each side. They’re creeping along now, not sure what you’re doing, I think. What are you doing?”

“Which one is closer?”

“The one near the cliffs.”

“How close?”

“Fifty feet, coming closer.”

“Are you two hungry?”

Hiinto grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp, serrated teeth, while Niinka rubbed her hands together. “Humans taste almost as good as the elves and greater fae,” she whispered.

“Wait until they are close. I will deal with the cliff-side man. You two take a bite out of the one on the ocean-side.”

“Yum.” Hiinto licked his lips.

Sliding a foot or two to the left, closer to the cliffs, Rie listened for the man’s footsteps in the dry seaweed. When she guessed he was within a few feet, Rie lunged sideways out from behind the rock and threw the sand into his face. He sputtered, dropping his weapons and scrubbing at his eyes. Rie dodged into range. Her right arm snapped out and up across the man’s body, drawing a horizontal figure eight across his torso, the razor-edged khukuri knife sliding through the soft tissue of his unprotected belly like a spoon through pudding. She pulled back and away, but not before a loud pop echoed off the cliff face.

Rie’s right leg crumpled beneath her. She fell to the ground, blood saturating the cloth around a hole in her upper thigh. She rolled away from the dying assassin. Sand exploded from the impact of another round. Rie tucked in behind a driftwood log, waiting for the second assassin to make another move. Blood seeped into her leggings, staining the blue denim a dark burgundy. The wound wasn’t fatal, but the blood-loss was already making her feel faint.

Rie peeked out from behind the log. The pixies were nowhere in sight. The man drew closer, carrying his gun out and away from his body, held loose as if he had all the time in the world to deal with his target.

“Thanks for taking care of Grant,” he said, a wicked grin on his face. “I hated his constant bragging, and now the bounty’s all mine.”

Rie kept silent, thoughts frantic for a plan.

He took a deep breath, exhaling on a groan. “You smell delicious. I can’t wait for my first taste.” His tongue slicked out across an extended fang. Blood sidhe, otherwise known as vampire. Shadow Realm hunters of humans.

Ten yards, and closing. There was no way out, nowhere to go, not with a wounded leg and open beach. She crouched, body weight centered on her good leg, the assassin’s throwing knife drawn and ready. She would have to be fast, stand up and flick the blade end over end to hit her target.

The man screamed, gun firing two rounds in quick succession. Rie flattened against the log, but the rounds weren’t aimed at her. Poking her head above the wood again, Rie gagged, the contents of her stomach threatening to spill onto the sand.

The pixies were hard at work. A fine red mist gathered like a cloud around the assassin’s head. He swatted at empty air, turning in circles, but never close to touching Rie’s friends. His cheeks disappeared first, hollowing out as the pixies stole chunks of soft tissue. Only visible as a flash when they paused to strike, the pixies made fast work of the man’s face. With little meat left on his cheeks and Hiinto harassing his eyes, Niinka tunneled into the skin beneath his jaw. His scream abruptly cut off, Rie assumed when Niinka bit through his vocal cords.

The assassin faced her, mouth gaping like a fish. Lidless eyes glared, whites showing all the way around the chocolate colored iris. He stepped forward, lifted his gun for a final attempt on Rie’s life. Hiinto landed hard on his wrist, clawing his way into the tendons and veins, sending the weapon to the ground along with a hard spray of arterial blood. Having eaten most of the man’s tongue, Niinka crawled out through his mouth. Rie stood, aimed. A flick of her wrist sent the knife spinning through the air, once, twice. The third round connected the pointed blade deep into the man’s neck.

The pixies continued to feed as the assassin fell face first into the sand. Blood arced from multiple wounds, slowing along with his heart rate. The pixies, bloated with blood and flesh, flew to Rie’s side, bobbing drunkenly from side to side.

“Sorry we were late,” Hiinto said, his head tilted to the side. Blood and gore streaked his face and body from eyes to bellybutton. “We got a little distracted when you cut the first one.”

“They were blood sidhe, not human. A more complex flavor, more depth to savor,” Niinka added, dragging her fingers one by one through her mouth, licking off every drop of red liquid she could find. Despite her trip through the gunman’s throat, she was already clean, only a few spots of red marring her smooth white complexion.

“We survived. That’s all that matters.”

Adrenaline long gone, Rie’s limbs hung heavy with fatigue. She shivered, whether from shock or dread, she didn’t know. Her leg was still bleeding. Making a tourniquet out of a strip of her shirt, Rie tied a knot above the hole in her leg. The blood loss slowed, but she knew it was a temporary measure.

“We’ll have to take their heads.” Rie leaned heavily against the driftwood log. As badly damaged as they were, the assassins might find a way to feed and heal. Decapitation was the only way to ensure they didn’t rise again.

Using the driftwood for support, Rie dragged herself to the gunman. Niinka’s work, plus the knife protruding from his throat, made it easy to take his head. It was nearly detached already. The second assassin was harder, in part because she kept having to chase off the seagulls that wanted his guts for lunch.

Through it all, Rie existed in a cloud of detachment, as if the entire incident had happened to someone else. She didn’t even regret killing the blood sidhe, the first sentient lives she’d taken. She hoped it was the shock, and not some sign of a malfunctioning conscience, but she didn’t have the energy to worry about it. It was all she could do to finish her assignment and get home.

“Lord Garamaen will send someone to take care of the bodies,” Niinka said. A deep yawn cracked her jaw. She climbed her way up Rie’s shoulder to cuddle in the crook of her neck. Hiinto tucked himself into the pocket of her shirt.

Using the last of her waning strength, Rie hid the bodies as best she could under some loose driftwood, and stumbled in the direction of Lord Garamaen’s hall. Salt and sand coated her mouth and throat, the gritty texture grinding between her teeth. She spit to the side. With a dry mouth, it didn’t do much good. She prayed for enough strength to make it to his door.

Lord Garamaen’s estate sat high atop a cliff, the creamy white house known for expansive views captured by floor to ceiling windows. It was plain compared to the ornate edifices in the Upper Realm, with their spires and arches and filigreed railings, instead focusing on simple lines and asymmetrical angles that maximized the beach exposure. That its owner was not human was a well-guarded secret.

“What sadistic bastard put 52 uneven steps from his house to the beach?” Rie asked no one in particular as she dragged her battered body up the last few punishing wooden boards.

“That would be me,” a man said from the paved stone patio that led to the mansion’s back door.

Rie’s head snapped up. Recovering as quickly as possible from the surprise, she straightened and donned her court persona, the neutral facial expression her high elf warden, Curuthannor, had drilled into her.

Lord Garamaen didn’t resemble the high elves she knew in the Upper Realm. He hardly looked like an elf at all. He was more muscular, and far too casual for the High Court. He kept his dirty blond hair trimmed short, just brushing the tips of barely pointed ears, and he wore the cotton shorts and thin shirts native to the area. He was taller than the average human, she supposed, well over six feet, but nothing extraordinary by greater fae standards. Worse, his right hand had been severed at the wrist, the handicap setting him apart from his flawless brethren.

She wondered, not for the first time, whether Garamaen maintained a personal glamour to help him blend with the humans he loved so dearly. She didn’t think so, but then she was only human.

“Lord Garamaen, I am Nuriel Lhethannien, from the High Court messenger service. I have come with a message from High King Othin.” Rie held out her messenger pendant for inspection, pulling it from beneath her shirt on its long satin cord. This was not the first time she had visited Lord Garamaen, not by a long shot, but protocol required the same introduction with each missive.

“Looks to me like you’ve had a bit of trouble getting here. And I prefer to be called Greg in this realm, if you recall,” Lord Garamaen said, not even glancing at the badge.

Rie’s thumb twitched, but she was sure no pain or anxiety showed on her face. She returned the medallion to its place.

“I remember, but I have to follow protocol. The King sends his regards and requests the honor of your presence at the High Court in three human days time.” Her voice stayed steady, but her heart raced and her right leg trembled. She locked her knees and hoped Lord Garamaen wouldn’t notice.

“Come in and let me look at you. We can’t have a king’s messenger returning to service in such a state.”

Rie shivered. It would be nice to get warm, if nothing else, since the sun had apparently decided to take its heat elsewhere.

“I appreciate the offer.” Rie’s vision swam. She could barely feel her right leg below the tourniquet. She was forced to admit she wouldn’t make it back to the portal without passing out.

“If you hurt her, you’ll regret it,” Niinka snarled from her hiding spot behind Rie’s left ear.

“Who do we have here?” Garamaen asked, not quite covering the twitch that gave away his surprise. “A pixie? Two? How would you like a reward for helping me with your messenger friend?”

“What have you got?” Hiinto asked. He poked his head out of her shirt pocket, resting his arms on the edge of the fabric, and his chin on his arms. He must still be too full to move, since he wasn’t already swarming Lord Garamaen for his prize. The pixies were suckers for a shiny trinket or length of satin ribbon, Hiinto the greediest of them all. Like tiny dragons, they hoarded their treasures in personal nests, keeping them hidden from everyone, even the other members of the swarm.

“Be careful,” Niinka hissed. “He will help, but he’s a tricky one.”

Rie took a step forward. Her leg buckled. Lord Garamaen caught her before she hit the floor. Pulling her arm over his shoulder, he half-carried her through the doorway and into the sunken living area.

“Have a seat, I’ll be back in just a minute.” Lord Garamaen eased her down into an ivory leather chair without giving her the opportunity to protest making a bloody mess on his furniture, and sped out of the room.

“Don’t forget our rewards!” Hiinto called out after him.

Unable to resist, Rie’s head drifted back to relax in the supple leather support. Snuggling her entire body deep into the cushions, she sighed in pleasure. The comforts in this home were far removed from her sparse quarters in the messenger barracks. Even her room at the estate was stiff and cold compared to the cushioned warmth of Garamaen’s — Greg’s — living room. Decorated in creamy ivory accented with soft blues and greens, every seat had an unobstructed view of the beach, ocean, or both.

When he returned, Lord Garamaen carried a red box with a white cross on the top and a bowl of loose change, buttons, and other assorted baubles.

“Pixies, you can have whatever you like out of this bowl, including the bowl itself, if you can carry it.” He placed the bowl on the slate ledge surrounding the fireplace, then turned to Rie and opened the red box. He withdrew a pair of scissors and using the stump of his right hand to hold the fabric in place, positioned them in the hole created by the bullet. “I’m going to cut away your jeans, so I can see the wound. Alright?”

Rie nodded, her head getting woozier by the second. The pixies, meanwhile, were busy searching through Lord Garamaen’s offering.

“My name is Hiinto, and I will take three silver coins and a pearl, plus this ribbon to tie them up in.” He selected three dimes and a round white button, wrapping them carefully in the bright red satin ribbon and strapping the entire collection around his waist.

“You can call me Niinka. Rather than anything in the bowl, I would like a strand of your golden hair, if that would be acceptable?”

“That is a very personal request, Niinka,” Lord Garamaen replied, his tone low and serious. He paused his ministrations to Rie’s leg and held Niinka’s gaze for a few seconds before continuing. “I will grant this request, but you will owe me one personal favor of my choosing, and to be completed at the time of my choosing.”

“Done!” Niinka zipped to his head and plucked a single strand of hair, wrapping it around her wrist until it made a thick bracelet, which she tied into a knot. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, stroking her new jewelry.

Hiinto hissed and clicked, clearly yelling at Niinka in their native Pixl. She turned her back, ignoring his protests while admiring the bracelet.

“The bullet went all the way through, which is good. It means I don’t have to dig around in there. But now I have to clean it, and this could hurt a bit.” Lord Garamaen used a pair of tweezers to dip a swab in alcohol, then began to wipe away the blood and dirt from the perimeter of the bullet hole. Rie gasped when the swab pulled across the wound, the stinging pain making her jump and squirm.

“You don’t have a healer, by any chance, do you?” she asked, eyes tearing.

“If you mean a magical healer, I can close the wound and repair some of the damage, but first I have to get it clean. Just hold on for a few more minutes. Then I’ll take you up to your room where you and the pixies can take a bath and rest.”

Rie clenched her hands on the cushioned armrests and glanced wildly about the room, looking for something, anything, to take her mind off the pain. A large painted portrait of a dark-haired woman sat in place of honor on the wall behind the couch. She was beautiful and exotic looking, with almond shaped brown eyes and flawless golden skin. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, with the exception of a single braid that carried a large white feather.

“Who is the woman in the painting?” Rie asked,

“She was my wife, long ago,” Lord Garamaen replied.

“She was human?”

“Yes, we lived together with her tribe in what is now known as the Ohio Valley. She was a shaman of her people.”

The warmth and passion in his voice overwhelmed Rie. Her heart ached for the woman she had never met. She couldn’t help but meet his gaze as he paused his ministrations to examine her face.

“You look a bit like her, you know,” Lord Garamaen said before returning to his task. “Your hair is almost the exact same color, but your eyes throw it off. The violet is rare in humans, and uncommon even in elves.”

Rie didn’t know how to respond, unused to compliments of any kind. The high elves had such perfect beauty, there was no way he could compare her favorably to his brethren. Yet he’d bonded with a human woman and chosen to live in the human world instead of amongst the glittering throng. His preferences must be a little warped, but she couldn’t mention that.

Rie watched the pixies dart about the room. They were everywhere, examining objects, opening cupboards, and generally causing mischief.

“Get out of there, you pesky little beasts,” a gravelly voice said from beneath the kitchen sink. The cabinet door was open a crack and four knobby fingers gripped the edge. “You’re going to muck up my house.”

“Hilgor, they are guests. They are free to move about the house and grounds, but if they try to take anything without my permission, you can go ahead and swat them. Until then, leave them be.”

“Hey!” the pixies protested in unison.

“We know how to behave.” Hiinto returned a silver toothpick to its place by the stove.

“We were just looking,” Niinka added, a guilty expression crossing her face.

Rie smiled. There was no reforming a pixie.

“At least make them wash up. I’ll have enough trouble cleaning that chair. I’d rather not have to clean the whole house.” Hilgor’s hand disappeared, then reemerged, waving an old stained rag in the air. Without protest, the pixies dashed to take the rag from his outstretched hand and scrub themselves clean.

“You have a nisse living here?”

“Hilgor came with me when I decided to live here on a permanent basis.”

“Who else would take care of him?” Hilgor said from his hiding spot. “He has no woman, and little family left.”

Rie had never heard of a nisse so dedicated to an individual. They were notoriously shy, and typically only cared for a particular house or property. That Hilgor chose to follow Lord Garamaen was a sign of his power and respectability, especially since he lived in the Human Realm.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened on the beach?” Garamaen asked, changing the subject.

“Two men attacked me. I survived, they didn’t.”

“Come on, spill the details. Why were they after you?”

Rie clenched her teeth as Lord Garamaen tugged on something in her leg.

“I don’t know. They were blood sidhe, but I wasn’t just a breakfast target. They wanted me dead.”

“And you know that because?”

Rie hesitated. Only her wardens and the pixies knew of her abilities. Curuthannor had encouraged her to keep her premonitions secret, to use them as a tactical advantage. He had tried to teach her to bring them on at will, but she had never been able to manage that kind of control. With almost seventy-five years of practice, she didn’t think it was going to get any better. “I have a minor gift, a small premonition. It’s the only thing that saved me from a thrown knife to the gut.”

“You’re also skilled with a blade, and quite fast.”

“You were watching?”

Lord Garamaen nodded. “I know everything that goes on, on this beach.”

“And you let them attack me?” Rie held her expression and kept her tone controlled, but not without effort. It was typical elven superiority, unwilling to help the so-called ‘lesser’ races.

“You handled yourself well.” A flash of warmth in her leg drew Rie’s attention downward. “All done,” Lord Garamaen announced, removing his hand from the air above the wound. “Let’s get you up to your room to rest.”

“My room? While I appreciate your help, I need to get back to the Upper Realm before sunset.” Without the magic of a faerie realm surrounding her at the fading of the sun, she would wither and die, gaining the physical age that had been suppressed for so long.

“Yeah, yeah. I know you’re a changeling, but my estate holds a piece of faerie. You’ll be fine.”

The pixies giggled. “Of course, she’ll be fine,” Niinka said as Hiinto elbowed her in the ribs.

“I really must insist.” Rie ignored the two-inch pests. “I need to get back to the messenger barracks and report in.”

“In your condition? I don’t think so. You need to rest that leg, and I believe I still outrank a messenger. It’s not going to be a problem. Trust me.” Lord Garamaen extended his hand.

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About Megan Haskell

Legend has it, I was born with a book in my hands. When I was a kid, my mom would ground me from reading in order to get me to do my chores. To this day, I can readily ignore the real world in favor of the imaginary one lurking between the pages of my current addiction. My dad -- also an avid reader -- introduced me to Tolkien in my late elementary years, and I never looked back. I love escaping to worlds where magic and monsters are real, especially stories with kick-butt heroines and dangerously attractive heroes.

Despite my voracious book appetite, I didn't start creative writing until I was working as a number cruncher in a big accounting firm. With an hour commute by train every day, and a demanding left-brain occupation, I needed a mobile creative outlet. A pen and paper are about as mobile as it gets! As the pages filled, I moved onto a tiny laptop, and a writer was born. Now I create my own fantasies!

I currently live in Southern California with my wonderfully supportive husband, two daughters, and a ridiculously energetic dog. You can find me online at my website, Facebook author page, Instagram, and Pinterest.

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