Storm Dancer by Rayne Hall
Demon-possessed siege commander, Dahoud, atones for his atrocities by hiding his identity
and protecting women from war's violence - but can he shield the woman he loves from the evil inside him?
Principled weather magician, Merida, brings rain to a parched desert land. When her magical dance rouses
more than storms, she needs to overcome her scruples to escape from danger.
Thrust together, Dahoud and Merida must fight for freedom and survival. But how can they trust each
other, when hatred and betrayal burn in their hearts?
'Storm Dancer' is a dark epic fantasy. British spellings. Caution: this book contains some violence and
disturbing situations. Not recommended for under-16s.
Excerpt:
Even
in the shade of the graffiti-carved olive tree, the air sang with heat. Dahoud listened to the hum of voices
in the tavern garden, the murmured gossip about royals and rebels. If patrons
noticed him, they would only see a young clerk sitting among the lord-satrap's
followers, a harmless bureaucrat. Dahoud planned to stay harmless.
The tavern bustled with women
- whiteseers hanging about in the hope of earning a copper, traders celebrating
deals, bellydancers clinking finger cymbals - women who neither backed away
from him nor screamed.
The youngest of the
entertainers wound her way between the benches towards their table, the tassels
on her slender hips bouncing, the rows of copper rings on her sash tinkling
with every snaky twist. Since she seemed nervous, as if it was her first show,
he sent her an encouraging smile. Ignoring him, she shimmied to Lord Govan.
The djinn slithered inside
Dahoud, stirring a stream of fury, whipping his blood into a hot storm. Would she dare to disregard the Black
Besieger? What lesson would he teach to punish her insolence?
Dahoud stared past her sweat-glistening torso,
the urge to subdue her washing over him in a boiling wave. For three years, he
had battled against the djinn's temptations. To indulge in fantasies would
batter his defences and breach his resistance. He focused on the flavours on
his tongue, the tart citron juice and the sage-spiced mutton, on the tender
texture of the meat.
Govan clasped the dancer's wrist
and drew her close. “Come, honey-flower, let's see your blossoms.”
She tried to pull herself from
his grip. Panic painted her face. Against a lesser man's groping, she might
defend herself with slaps and screams, but this was the lord-satrap. She was
too young to know how to slip out of such a situation, and none of her older
colleagues on the far side of the garden noticed her plight. The other clerks
at the table laughed.
“My Lord,” Dahoud said. “She
doesn't want your attentions.”
“She’s only a bellydancer.”
Contempt oiled Govan's voice. Still, he released the girl’s hand, slapped her
on the rump, and watched her scurry towards the safety of the musicians. “These
performers are advertised as genuine Darrians. I have a mind to have them
arrested for fraud. I suspect ...” He ran the tip of his finger along his
eating bowl. “They're mere Samilis.”
Dahoud, himself a Samili,
refused to react to the jab. Govan was not only satrap of the province, but
Dahoud's employer, as well as the father of the lovely Esha.
“Samilis are everywhere these
days.” Peering down his nose, Govan swirled the wine in his beaker. “Not that I
have anything against Samilis. Given the right kind of education, their race
can develop remarkable intelligence, practically equal to that of Quislakis.
They can make valuable contributions to society.” He stroked the purple fringe
of his armband, insignia of his rank. “Provided they respect their betters.”
The other clerks at the table
bobbed their chins in eager agreement.
Dahoud the Black Besieger
would not have tolerated taunts from this pompous peacock, but Dahoud the
council clerk had to bow. Submission was the price for guarding his secret.
At the entry arch, a short man
in the yellow tunic and turban of a royal rider was consulting with the tavern
keeper.
“Is that messenger looking for
you, my Lord?” Dahoud asked.
Govan shifted into his
official pose and summoned the man with a flick of his sandalwood fan. The
courier walked on bowed legs as if he still had a mount between his thighs. Conversations
halted, glances followed him, and whiteseers peered, anticipating business.
Lord Govan put on his official
smile to receive the leather-wrapped parcel.
“Forgive me, my Lord,” the
herald said. “The message I carry is for Dahoud, the clerk.”
Govan’s hand pulled back and
his smile vanished.
Dahoud's stomach went cold:
The Queen or her Consort would not write to an ordinary clerk. After three
years of respite, his anonymity was breached. He stripped off the camel-skin
wrap and broke the scroll's seal. The ends of the purple ribbon dropped into
the mutton sauce.
“The High Lord Kirral, Consort to the Great Luminous Queen, greets
Dahoud, council clerk in the satrapy of Idjlara: Present yourself at the palace
without delay. The Queendom needs the Black Besieger. K.”
The expansive curves of the
signature “K” claimed more space on the parchment than the message.
In his bowl, the uneaten mutton was going
cold, whitish grease separating from the sauce. A large fly drifted belly-up in
the liquid, its legs clawing for a hold in the air. The memories of siege
warfare wrapped around Dahoud, those sour-sweet odours of fear and faeces, of
disease and burning flesh.
At twenty-five, he had a
conscience heavier than a brick-carrier’s tray and more curses on his head than
a camel had fleas. He had left the legion to cut himself off temptation, to
deprive the djinn of fodder. After a siege, rape was legal, a soldier's right,
practically expected of him, part of the job. By returning to war, he would
forfeit his victories over his craving. The djinn would again be his master.
Yet he ached to wear the
general's cloak again, to silence sneering bureaucrats, to make women take
notice. He lusted for that power the way a heavy drinker, deprived of his
solace, ached for a sip of wine. The yearning to wield a sword ached in his
arms, his chest throbbed with the urge to command, and his loins flamed with
the dark desire. He felt the panting breaths of women and their hot resisting
bodies, smelled the scent of female fright and sweating fury.
“Why is the Consort writing to
you?” Govan leant forward to grab the document. “You’re out of your depth with
royal matters. I'll read and explain.”
“Why should I want your
counsel?” Dahoud tucked the rolled parchment into his belt.
“Don’t get pert, Samili!”
Govan barked. “Give me that letter.”
“The Consort summons.” Dahoud
rose. “Good afternoon, my Lord. Don't expect me back soon.”
He strode to the exit, his
mind reeling like a spindle. Could he deny that he was the Black Besieger? Refuse
a royal order? Lead an army without stimulating the djinn?
On a low stone wall near the
entrance gate, a row of whiteseers perched like hungry birds. Whiteseers had
glimpses of futures others could not even imagine. One of them slid off the
wall and sauntered in his direction. A coating of pale clay covered her
sharp-boned triangular face and her long hair, and painted black and blue rings
adorned her clay-whitened arms.
“Your hands,” she demanded.
“I need to know what will
happen if -”
“Give your copper to a
soothsayer,” she snapped. “We white ones only give advice. We can see the
future; we can see several futures for everyone, but we won’t tell you all we
see.”
“Advice is all I want.”
“That’s what they all say. Yet
everyone asks for more. I give one piece of advice, the best I can give to help
a client. They always demand that I tell them what I see. Well, I won’t.”
Nevertheless, she grabbed the copper ring from Dahoud’s fingers and threaded it
on her neck-thong. Her tunic smelled of old sweat and mouldy wool.
She grasped his hands to pinch
their flesh, her long nails tickling. Her white paint contrasted with Dahoud’s
bronze tan. When she felt the pulse and lifted his hand to her face to listen
and sniff, he could have sworn he saw her blanch under the white clay as her
closed eyes stared into his past. She sagged forward and stayed in a silent
slouch.
At last she straightened, her
eyes wide, her mouth open, but no words burst forth. So she had seen what he
had done, and worse, what he might do once more.
“I assure you, I'll never
again...”
“I can’t read if you chatter.”
She frowned at his hands. “My advice: Get stronger arms.”
He flexed his biceps,
startled. “My arms are strong! I do trickriding, I wrestle, I lift
weights.” Every night, Dahoud exercised until his muscles screamed, to block
out his cravings and punish his body for its desires.
The seer’s mouth curled with
contempt, making more clay crumble. “You’re not listening. I didn't say strong. I said stronger.” She pinched his biceps. “Much stronger.”
“What difference can arm
muscles make?”
“I told you to give your
copper to a soothsayer.” She ambled off, leaving a cloud of unwashed stink and
crumbles of clay.
Dahoud hurried to the stable
to ready his horse. He had to persuade the Consort not to send the Black
Besieger back to war.
Review:
First off I want to say that I really enjoyed this book. I have to say though, it is graphic. So, the warning is true. With that said, I do not want to dwell on it so I'm going to focus on the story. I enjoyed the action as well as the romantic qualities in this book. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I was hooked from the first chapter. I wanted to understand the characters and what was going to happen. Hall kept me on my toes.
Dahoud is the main character and there is something about that the reader has to figure out to understand what his problem is. He has done some terrible things in his life that he wants to make up for. So, he is constantly trying to protect women from the atrocities he has committed before.
Merida is a weather magician. She can bring in rain to help the lands that need it. Merida and Dahoud are thrown together through many unfortunate circumstances. They are forced to marry and must stay on Dahoud's land in order to survive.
Unfortunately, there are enemies all around and they find themselves fighting for the survival of their people. Will they overcome? You'll have to read it to find out.
I definitely enjoyed this book and I would recommend it for you guys to read.
