My
debut fantasy novel, In the Blood,
has a number of villains. None of them are über-powerful dark lords or
mysterious organizations that wreak havoc on the heroes. Instead they are
people doing whatever they can to survive and claw out a bit of happiness for
themselves. Oh, and a tree.
That’s
right, a tree is one of my villains. In fact, the Witch’s Tree might even be a more
insidious bad guy than any of the flesh and blood individuals creating mayhem.
It creeps into dreams, ignites mob-like hatred, sends shivers down people’s
spines, and it waits.
Seventy
years before the events of In the Blood,
the Witch’s Tree was used as a site of execution for witches in the small
community of Corlaan. Around twenty people were hung there – the youngest
victim only a few years old. These executions took place in the larger setting
of a nationwide genocide of those with witchbreed blood. Anyone suspected of
possessing magic was denounced by his/her neighbors, tried, and killed. Tens of
thousands of people perished, nearly obliterating the witchbreed population.
For the people of Corlaan, the Witch’s Tree is a fraught symbol of shame and
fear. For Oriabel, it is a warning not to step too far outside her place and
reveal herself, lest she too swing.
When
you think of the some of the most notorious execution sites in history such as
Newgate Prison and the Tower of London, the gas chambers in Auschwitz and other
concentration camps, or Golgotha/Calvary there is an almost tangible presence
attached to them. They are so soaked in death and suffering – very often of
perfectly innocent people – that they have a sort of horrible life of their
own. Too, they are symbols. Ones that are immediately recognizable, though what
they represent is infinitely complicated. That is what I attempted to create
with the Witch’s Tree: a site so steeped in pain that it becomes a dark
presence in the story – a silent shadow that haunts the living and whose
victims linger in a perpetual nightmare.
In the Blood
The Witchbreed
Book One
R. L. Martínez
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Lakewater Press
Date of Publication: March 21, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9944511-0-1
ISBN: 978-0-9944511-1-8
ASIN: B019X8WCWI
Number of pages: 370
Word Count: app. 122,000
Cover Artist: E. L. Wicker
Book Description:
The Warrior
The war between Dosalyn and Roanaan has ended, but a new battle begins for prisoner-of-war, Ottilde Dominax. Dreams of her witchbreed twin sister are visions of death and betrayal. Driven by their grim warning, she escapes her captors and races across nations to save her sister.
But she may arrive too late…
The Witch
Oriabel Dominax has kept her healing magic secret while she cares for her family's struggling estate. But the arrival of a new lord with secrets of his own, the discovery of a dark and addictive magic, and threats from a cruel blackmailer push Oriabel closer to disaster.
Through it all, the Witch’s Tree calls…
First
Excerpt
“296.”
Angry hisses and
mutters rippled through the assembly at the announcement of Ottilde’s number.
The guard at the
front of their formation watched with a bored expression as the other inmates
spat at her feet. “King Killer,” the woman next to her hissed. Ottilde
swallowed and her grip on the heartstone tightened. Chroy had not been a king
when she threw her knife into his throat, not yet. But he had been their
future, their hope.
Ottilde raised
one hand into the air. “Here.” The commotion died down after he called a few
more numbers and Ottilde let out her long-held breath. She loosened her fingers
from around the heartstone. They came away aching with the force of her hold.
When all the
prisoners were accounted for, several inmates broke formation to walk to the
dining house for breakfast. The guards, however, growled at them to remain in
line, shoving some of the slower ones back into place.
Ottilde frowned
at the change in routine, and peered around. Prison Chief Wilder Coomb strode
towards them on the other side of the wire fence that formed the front of the
yard, his adjutant close at his side. One of the guards unlocked the yard gate
and stood back as the Chief entered.
Wilder Coomb was
a formidable man. He might once have been handsome, but life had bullied him
viciously. His shaved head sported a deep, curling scar on one side of his
scalp, while his face and neck carried similar gruesome marks. One earlobe was
missing, which gave his head a cock-eyed appearance when viewed straight on. A
jagged horizontal line along his neck indicated someone had tried to cut his
throat at one time. But Ottilde believed the most impressive scar lay behind
the patch over his left eye. The silvery tail of the wound snaked down his
cheek and neck to disappear in the stiff collar of his forest green officer’s
coat.
Upon reaching
the front of the prisoner formations, he folded his hands behind his back and
swept a contemptuous eye over them. Ottilde could only imagine what he saw as
he stared at them, the ragged unlucky soldiers taken prisoner during the recent
Pleinour War. For a moment, Chief Coomb’s hard, dark eye settled on her and she
lifted her chin, refusing to show him how much he intimidated her. But his gaze
moved on, and she sensed the subtle shift of discomfort in the prisoners around
her when one of them felt the whip of his gaze
He held up a
sheaf of folded papers; a letter, judging by the regular creases.
“Queen Kuonrada
has fled and Deauxerr has vanquished her armies.”
The prisoners
shuffled and muttered. The cold air warmed with the force of their anger and
humiliation. Ottilde kept her eyes on Chief Coomb’s face, though she felt a
good portion of their collective rage focused on her. She knew she held blame
for breaking the back of Roanaan’s fighting spirit.
“Over the last
several weeks,” Coomb continued, “those with authority in such matters have
considered what to do with you all. I have a list of officers and knights to be
traded for Deauxerr soldiers now held by the remnant of Roanaan’s military as
an act of diplomatic faith. Step forward when I read your number. You will be
readied immediately for transport to the exchange point.” He snapped his
fingers and his adjutant took the letter from his hand, replacing it with a
single sheet of dark paper. Coomb scanned it and shouted out prisoner numbers.
Ottilde’s
breathing grew irregular with hope as each man or woman came forward in answer
to the prison chief’s summons. But he reached the last number on the list
without calling hers. Her stomach soured as she watched a contingent of guards
escort the fifty or so fortunate prisoners from the yard.
Once the yard
gate had shut again. Chief Coomb’s adjutant handed him another paper. “Now,
King Talin of Deauxerr has decided to offer those of you with reports of good
conduct and no criminal past the opportunity to swear fealty to the Deauxerr
crown. Talin has granted you permission to return to Roanaan or settle in
Deauxerr; also, you will be given a small subsidy to start your new life. If
you wish to accept this offer, step forward when I read your number.” He sounded
off another list of prisoners. Again, Ottilde listened tensely for her number,
though she knew how unlikely it was she would hear it this time.
Coomb must have
called a hundred numbers or more, but Ottilde estimated only forty prisoners
stepped forward. They averted their eyes from those who remained in the
formations. Another handful of guards led this group from the yard.
“As for the rest
of you,” Coomb said, “you are to be moved to a civilian prison facility where
you will no longer be my concern.” He folded his arms behind his back.
“Remember, as long as you remain in this camp, or in the custody of my staff,
you will obey Lachlas regulations. Everyone will appear for morning roll every
day. You all know what will happen should even one of your numbers go missing.”
He gave them a last menacing glare then stalked to the yard gate.
About the Author:
R. L. Martinez writes fantasy and science fiction with dark edges and corners. She began writing when she was in the seventh grade when her teacher assigned a creative writing project. She lives in Norman, OK with her husband, two young sons, a mouse-killing cat, and two naughty pooches.
Website - http://robinlmartinez.com/
Twitter - https://twitter.com/RobinLMartinez
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/robin.l.martinez400
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