Excerpt and Giveaway In a Wolf's Eyes (The Saga of the Black Wolf #1) by A. Katie Rose

Description:

Raine is a slave, a gladiator. Known as the Bloody Wolf, he is the champion of all champions in the Empire of Khalid. Ly'Tana is a warrior princess of Kel'Halla and is set to wed the heir to Khalid's throne, Crown Prince Broughton. When Raine and his new wizard pal, Rygel, accidentally murder the High King, they set in motion events which rapidly spiral out of control. Ly'Tana discovers the true, and violent, nature of her betrothed, a man nicknamed Prince Brutal for his vicious nature, and escapes her marriage. Brutal will stop at nothing to have her for his wife. To entice his runaway bride into a trap, he brings down and captures her griffin bodyguard, Bar. Ly'Tana vows to have Bar back or die trying, and seeks the help of Raine and Rygel, to free Bar from Brutal's clutches. In doing so, Raine and Ly'Tana are forced to flee for their lives, hunted by Brutal's secretive assassins. Can they escape the hunters and their silent, evil hounds? Can Ly'Tana evade Brutal's hungry need to marry her and seize her beloved country? Can Raine keep Ly'Tana alive and still save himself from capture and torture? Can they stop themselves from falling in love? Thus begins the first novel of The Saga of the Black Wolf series.

EXCERPT:

TOUR SCHEDULE

“Uh, oh,” Rygel muttered. “We have a problem.”

I followed his narrow-eyed gaze toward a large mass of yelling, striking, looting people down the road a few blocks. Purple and gold corpses, mostly red now, lay in the bloody street, their weapons taken, filling the hands of a tight mob of men in stained jerkins and ragged breeches. I reined Rufus in sharply. 

“Unless I’m a blind fool, they’re looking at us,” Rygel commented grimly.

“A fool you are, but your eyes are just fine.”

More than a hundred men and boys, with a smattering of screaming women, filled the street, milling about, setting fires, overturning carts, others kicking down doors and dragging the terrified occupants from the buildings. About half had their arms occupied with their loot. Another thirty grew silent, watching us, their silence spreading to still more. Many of them halted and dropped their stolen bounty. Bread, bolts of cloth, leather, wooden or steel utensils, tools, kegs of ale all fell to the dusty street cobbles, forgotten. Among all the royal troops, the Synn’jhani brutalized the common people the most. Thus the people created their derisive nickname: the Sins.

Lionel’s need to fill the Arena found a steady supply among the lower classes, and Brutal’s viciousness fueled their lust for vengeance. Fingering their weapons, the quiet, deadly crowd moved, sliding through the street like a huge, uncoiling serpent. 

Toward us.

Still more filed out of alleys to either side of us, pulling out clubs, daggers, some even picking up rocks as they advanced. Perhaps they hoped to add a pair of Sins to their trophy list.

“Listen to your uncle Rygel,” Rygel said. “Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I said dryly.

“I hope you don’t mind a bit of cowardice,” Rygel said, wheeling his black. “But we’re going to turn tail and run.”

“On the contrary,” I murmured. “I don’t mind at all.”

I reined Rufus about, kicking him into a fast gallop.

Behind us, unseen until now, crept another handful of men and boys who thought to sneak up and brain us with their cudgels. Despite my sympathies toward their cause, I did not hesitate to run them down. With Rufus bearing down on them at a run, his ears flat and his teeth bared to kill, most decided it prudent to dodge aside and let us go. Those who thought a charging horse could not possibly withstand the swing of a club if wielded by an honest and brave citizen standing up against the evils of the Federation found Rufus’s hooves very hard indeed. Rufus didn’t even stumble over the corpses.

“This is going to give the Sins a bad name,” I said over my shoulder as we cleared the angry mass and found an empty street through which to flee.

“I’m fresh out of pity,” Rygel called. “Try me again later.”

I heard Rygel’s gelding hard on our heels as we raced down side streets or main thoroughfares, whatever had an opening. Milling mobs stupid enough to think they might stop us created havoc in navigating galloping horses. If people did not heed the warning sound of galloping hooves, I merely ran them down. I had no desire to kill them, but Rygel’s skin and my own took precedence over theirs. Many of the more agile dived to one side or the other to escape trampling legs and hooves. Those few who did not…well, they should have known better.

Trying to avoid more rioting mobs, I saw an opening into a quieter, less violent section of Soudan. With reins and knees, I slewed Rufus into a sharp right turn. With fewer rioters and fewer innocent citizens around, we galloped on without much danger to either. I slowed our headlong pace, Rygel bringing his sweating black up beside me. I relaxed, at last taking my hand away from my sword hilt. Rygel offered me a grin, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow, miming great relief.

“This is going to be a Festival of Summer talked about for generations,” he commented.

He mimed too soon. The quiet street ended at a city square, horribly populated by the largest riot we had yet encountered. Rygel reined his horse in so hard it slid several feet on its haunches before coming to a stop. I halted Rufus next to him, staring, appalled.

Flames roared out of buildings opposite us, several others on the same side of the street as we also burned. Looters and rioters ran and fought up and down the avenue, smaller masses fought hand-to-hand with clubs, knives and short swords. A few uniforms of the City Watch and the royal troops defended themselves, but I saw they would quickly go down. As before, the troopers stood no chance against the hundreds of violent and angry men that mobbed the square.

A woman’s shrill scream of terror and panic rose above the noise of the riot. I whipped my eyes to the left, finding a gang of men surrounding a lone woman a few rods from where I sat my horse. Whether she was a former rioter or a foolish citizen going about her business, I could not tell. They had backed her against the wall of an apothecary’s shop, at least seven on them, all setting weapons aside. One, the leader, brazenly grabbed her, tearing her cotton tunic down the front. His thick face effused with lust, he threw her down, his mates standing about, cheering him on with coarse oaths. The brave leader hit her across the mouth to silence her screams as he hurled himself down on her.

Rage boiled hot in me. Without thinking, I drew my sword and kicked Rufus toward them. None of them looked up from the rape until I beheaded one with a single swing from my blade. Suddenly panicked, the pack swarmed to escape, bolting in all directions like rabbits from a fox. Rygel and his rangy horse cut off the escape route of two, allowing me the pleasure of killing them. I did, indeed, enjoy killing them. Their heads rolled quite far before arriving at a gentle stop. I quelled the urge to bathe in their blood, however, tempting though it was.

The brave leader jumped up from the thighs of his victim, trying to fasten his breeches and bring his weapon to bear on me at the same time. His head bounced off the apothecary’s shop window, leaving a red smear and a nasty present on the shopkeeper’s mat. 

I cut and slashed my way around and through those that failed to run in time, reining Rufus in tight circles. He kicked out, taking another brave soul in the chest and stomach with both hind hooves. Rubbing his sweating neck in approval, I didn’t look back to see how well that bugger fared. 

The woman jumped up, holding the remains of her tattered garments to her bosom. She took one panicked look at my bloody sword, my still bloodier horse, and me.

She fled screaming.

While I had not deluded myself into thinking she’d thank me, her panic at my appearance still rankled.

Watching two survivors flee, bleeding profusely, and disappear around a bend, I heard a strange distant growling. To my ears, it sounded like a low rumbling noise, perhaps a cross between a wolf and a wild cat caught in a snare. With a start, I realized it came from my own throat. Gods above and below, I cursed inwardly, appalled. I stopped the noise, taking a firm grip on my runaway rage. My irritation at the victim’s terror of me ceased. No wonder she ran. Had I been in her place, I might have run faster. Sane men did not growl like that. Did they?

“That’s some temper you’ve got,” Rygel commented.

I glanced over at him. “I hate rapists.”

He lifted a hand. “I don’t much care for them myself. I just don’t take it personally.”

“I do,” I replied shortly.

He eyed me sidelong. “I reckon you do at that.”

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About the author:

A. Katie Rose is a Colorado native, and earned her Bachelor of Arts degree in History from Western State College in Gunnison, Colorado. She enjoys riding, teaching and learning from horses, likes camping, reading novels, watching movies and, of course, lives to write fantasy books. She currently works as a photographer in San Antonio, Texas, and is a slave to her six cats and four horses. “In a Wolf’s Eyes” is her first novel.

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