Greetings, Ms. Meadows:
My name is ---- . I would sincerely appreciate it if you would give the following query a moment of your time:
She was the best of the best: Captain of Temple City’s Guard, lover to an influential political figure, hand-picked envoy to a foreign nation.
Jennavaise had it all.
And then it was taken from her.
Broken, bound, and near death. That was how she was found at low tide, a continent away from everything she had known. Bereft of belongings, her past, even her name, she woke lacking anything to explain what had befallen her.
She was not alone.
Love took root in her shattered heart through the hands of her saviour, the beautiful healer, Arissa.
Friendship blossomed at the ready smile of Arissa’s apprentice, Sugan.
Intrigue spun its web in the graceful machinations of Bautain, the lovely and deadly Committee member who sought to win her from Arissa.
With their help, she pieced together her missing past, discovered how she had cheated the Hag of an early death. Memories returned like small tokens, precious in their scarcity.
But they were dark, hinting at blood and pain, at terrible loss. She had been a pawn in the hands of those she’d trusted. Having expected to be received as an envoy of peace to the foreign ruler known as the Konig, she had instead been delivered as a war-bride: the opening move of a treasonous plot by one of her own. Abandoned to the hands of this tyrannical ruler, her troops were murdered and Jenna herself was tortured and enslaved.
Five long years had passed at the hands of the Konig. Frustrated by the many pieces still missing to the mystery, Jenna turned her back on the past, believing that part of her life to be over. She was wrong. Little could she have guessed at the monstrous chain of events she put into motion by wedding the fate of her new friends to her own.
On the horizon, beyond the ocean known as the Sorrows, the avaricious reach of an old enemy threatens this new life. With the help of his Red Priest, the Konig had put his mark on her once already, leaving scars that run more than skin deep. Now his greed for conquest imperils the entire nation of her People.
By the vow on her sword, Jenna had once pledged herself to be a protector of the Faith. Now the Mother calls on her to finish what her near death left undone.
She must decide which she values more: the love she discovered on the Blessed Coat, half a world away from all she had once known, or the need to answer Her call.
But will the Goddess allow Jenna to make that choice, or will She make it for her?
JENNA’S SONG is a completed epic fantasy novel. It is the first in a planned trilogy, but can stand on its own.
Previous to this, I completed two short stories as well as a science fiction novel.
Inspiration and research for JENNA'S SONG has been part hobby, part invention. I am a member of a group that recreates realistic, full-contact medieval combat. Sword fighting is well-known to me; I use that knowledge to make combat scenes as realistic as possible. Three years of Reserve Officer Training in college also assists in understanding the relationship between a military commander and her troops.
I would be happy to send you partial or full manuscript of JENNA’S SONG at your request.
Your time and consideration are sincerely appreciated.
You can reach me at: email@example.com
It was the death of summer, a season which the People called the Mother’s Dance. Languorous warmth gave way to chill, blustery days and the occasional coastal storm, both heralds of winter, the Dance of the Crone.
One roaring example of just such a storm had swept through the prosperous port town of Sisafer the night before Festival, leaving in its wake a tangle of smashed fishing boats and debris. Nets were found strewn across neighbors’ rooftops, missing sheep and goats had to be searched out among the scrubby inland cliffs. What should have been a time of preparation for the coming festivities was spent instead in repairs, cleaning, and the whispered suggestions of omens.
Out on the storm-littered beach, a strange bit of flotsam bobbed gently against the outgoing tide. Cold currents swirled and nudged, tucking the limp body into the boulders as neatly as a doting parent before retreating for deeper ocean. A scavenger crab, questing for tidbits, investigated closer. There was no resistance from the still form, yet something made the tiny creature scuttle away as if stung. In its wake came two strolling humans, incongruous against the lowering brood of sunrise.
‘Foul time for this,’ Sugan complained aloud. The gusting breezes muffled his normally jolly baritone. ‘Wouldn’t you rather be inside with a cup of something hot?’
There was no immediate response from the slender figure ahead. Seemingly oblivious, Arissa continued to walk, stooping every so often to dig in the sand before tossing a wet, wriggling prize into a bag at her waist.