I am thrilled to be hosting a spot
on the PLEA TO A FROZEN GOD by C.M. Skiera Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out
my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About The Book:
Title: PLEA
TO A FROZEN GOD
Author: C.M. Skiera
Pub. Date: August
22, 2024
Publisher: C.M. Skiera
Formats: Paperback,
eBook
Pages: 471
Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/PLEA-TO-A-FROZEN-GOD
Read for FREE with a Kindle Unlimited membership!
Prince Ligo endured a troubled
engagement. Betrothed to a foreigner to save a realm abandoned by their god,
the prince suffers a seizure during a sacred hunt, and awakens to see his
fiancée’s family usurp the volcano-menaced realm. Indeed, Prince Ligo has seen
better days.
When the enigmatic Mystic Riggan rescues Prince Ligo from the deadly coup, she
leads him on a pilgrimage to the cryptic God of Death’s secret sanctum.
Fugitives in the frigid wilds, the beleaguered duo conscripts a badly wounded
soldier to help them survive. Pursuing answers to what truly ails the realm,
the misfit trio discovers more ancient mysteries at their journey’s end. They
also find the beginnings of a home and family like none they’d ever known.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Before civilization blossomed on this watery planet, seven celestial
visitors descended from the firmament in a fiery air boat.
Ligo
While a brisk wind buffeted Ligo’s face, his harnessed dogs pulled the
basket sled across the white expanse. Calamir followed him, and both siblings
trailed their father, King Kolf Fiegard. The patriarch led the early morning
hunting expedition. Familiar ashen clouds hung low, shedding powdery flakes on
the tundra and adjacent turbid sea.
“The Triplets are angry today,” Ligo said into a biting gust. He cast a
sideways glance at three bumps on the gray southern horizon—one of which leaked
a smoke stream.
“As usual,” said Calamir.
“Just one of our problems,” said Ligo.
“Why so glum? You’ll soon be married to save the realm. So what if you
never see the sun?”
Ligo bit his tongue. My betrothal’s nothing more than a desperate gambit
for a king with few options left. Though accustomed to his younger brother’s
thinly veiled jealousy, Ligo tired of the subtle jabs. Not my fault I was born
first.
Ligo often pondered what it would be like as second born. He envied
Calamir’s apparent freedom from the heavy burden of responsibility. Ligo
dreaded taking his father’s hectic, pressure-filled position. Oh, to be the
spare, and not the heir.
King Fiegard craned over his shoulder and signaled his intention to stop.
With a whistle and a stomp on his sled’s brake pedal, the king halted his dogs
on an outcropping overlooking the icy shore. Ligo and Calamir parked their
dogsleds beside their father’s.
Two dozen harnessed canines panted, their breaths visible in the chilly
air.
“Tend to your hounds,” the king instructed his sons. “I’m going to have a
look-see.” Ligo’s father unsheathed his spyglass and strode to a vantage point
facing the ragged coast.
Ligo scratched one of his lead dogs behind her ears. “Good girl. Bet you
don’t want to be here any more than I do.”
A stoic command rang out from behind, as a fourth, larger sled stopped
behind the royals. Ligo nodded to the lanky Firon Halcha as he dismounted his
toboggan sled, earmarked to haul the hunting bounty back to Castle Fieg.
Ligo acknowledged the royal hunt master, who returned the prince’s nod.
Firon squinted at Ligo.
“Something bothering you, my lord?”
Ligo shrugged and shook his hooded head. “Just tired from the ride.” Though
they’d spent the morning on the trek from Skelmoth, Ligo lied. An early morning
scene he witnessed from his sled haunted him.
“Ligo doesn’t enjoy hunting,” Calamir said while patting his brother’s back
with a gloved hand. A puff of snow escaped Ligo’s thick coat.
“But this hunt’s for your betrothal feast.”
Beneath his fur-lined hood, Firon’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Surely the
importance of this tradition outweighs your . . . queasiness—my lord.” The
huntsman flinched at his choice of words.
“I’m not queasy.”
“Just too lazy to hunt your own meat, then?”
Calamir asked, a smirk twisting his cheek.
Ligo sighed, recalling a limping arctic deer and her calf struggling
through the snow on the ride out.
Moments later, three ice wolves closed in on the vulnerable caribou. The
inevitable jarring cacophony broke Ligo’s heart. Though he didn’t see the
slaughter, he experienced it aurally, while his imagination painted the
gruesome imagery.
“No, it’s just, sometimes, I like to imagine a world where creatures don’t
live in constant fear of death, and need to kill each other to survive.” Before
the last word left his mouth, Ligo regretted speaking.
Stupid thing to say to a hunter.
Firon scoffed and shook his head. “Well, that ain’t the world we live in,
my lord.” Crystals feathered the huntsman’s beard as he tempered his response
to something appropriate for royalty. “But maybe in the next realm, if you’re
lucky, my lord. Almighty Fieg willing, that is.”
“Those are near blasphemous sentiments for a son of Fieg,” Calamir replied,
loud enough for their father to overhear. “Our ancestors worshipped the God of
Death since she founded our line. Fieg is in our name.”
“I know,” Ligo said, bristling at his brother’s theatrical posturing. As if
he’s more learned in the ways of Fieg than I. “I’m not saying death isn’t an
integral part of the cycle.” Ligo avoided his brother’s gaze.
Should have kept my mouth shut, as usual.
“Kill or be killed’s the law of the land,” Calamir said. “You wouldn’t be a
prince if it wasn’t for your ancestors battling for resources since the dawn of
time.”
Ligo ignored his brother and daydreamed. Not being royalty appealed to him.
We wouldn’t have to kill a walrus just so I can marry a woman I’ve never met.
“Don’t be sad,” Calamir teased as he wiped a frozen droplet from his nose.
“You get to be king someday. Then, you’ll never have to hunt for yourself—you
can delegate all the slaughter.”
Will I? What if I have a child who becomes engaged? Must I take them on
some fool quest to kill an innocent beast for naught but ancient custom? “I
suppose so.”
Calamir’s cheeks stretched into a victorious grin. Ligo ignored his
brother’s unearned gloating and spat a wad of phlegm into the whiteness.
What if there’s a tragic accident and we all die out here? Just to appease
Fieg with a pointless tradition? Ligo leaned into a stiff gust that pushed him
southward. I suppose, if Fieg wanted us dead, she could take us while we sleep.
Who knows, maybe she really appreciates symbolic efforts on her behalf? Ligo’s
chapped lips curled into a subtle smile. He punched his smug brother in the
arm.
Calamir fished a pouch from inside his coat and offered Ligo some dried
caribou. “Last chance to eat something besides walrus for the next week.”
Ligo grasped the proffered packet and peeked inside. He salivated at the
salty meat. Gloved thumb and finger extracted a lean strip, and he slid it into
his mouth. Ligo’s stiff cheeks retracted into a smile as he chewed the caribou.
I’m such a hypocrite for savoring meat and not wanting to kill my own food. His
grin vanished, yet he took another piece.
“Hey, leave some for me,” Calamir said as he swiped the pouch.
Ligo’s tongue picked meat strands from his teeth while he crunched through
the wind-crusted snow toward his father.
“See anything?” Ligo whispered.
The king handed Ligo his spyglass and spoke in a low voice. “A two-ton bull
and his herd, at the edge of that ice field.” With his free hand, King Fiegard
pointed toward the massive walrus.
Through the frosty lens, Ligo spied the slick beast and his prominent
tusks. The alert bull served as sentinel while his herd rested on the ice. A
mighty creature, doomed so we can feast on his tongue. Maybe he’ll get lucky
and escape.
“This is as far as we take the dogs,” King Fiegard said. “Anchor the sleds.
We walk from here.
Prepare our weapons, Firon. Lads, take your bows and don your quivers.”
The huntsman unloaded spears, clubs, and sealskin bladders from the sleigh
bed. He inflated four sealskin balloons, and then attached them to cords at the
end of each spear. If the wounded walrus reached the water, the floating
sealskin would aid the hunters in recovering their prey.
While Firon Halcha secured the inflatables, each Fiegard grabbed a studded
club. Both princes trained extensively with the standard Fiegardian melee and
ranged weapons. Though proficient with a variety of blades and blunts, Ligo
wasn’t an expert with any. Now that Calamir had grown to the same size as him,
Ligo struggled in the practice yard to best his younger brother. He entertained
no delusions that he’d ever beat the Master at Arms, much less be remembered as
a warrior king. Ligo considered himself more of a scholar and spent his rare
free time in the castle library. He smacked the club barrel into his gloved
palm. Don’t need to be a tournament champion today, just steady aim and brute
strength.
“You lead, Firon,” the King said. “Calamir, behind me, and Ligo, flank your
brother.”
Ligo rankled at the order, yet logic drove his father. I’m the most
vulnerable, and need to be protected for the wedding. Still, he couldn’t help
but wonder what role his unfortunate condition played in his father’s decision.
He fears I’ll suffer another attack.
Ligo found it difficult to blame his father, though the king displayed
little talent at hiding his embarrassment.
That didn’t stop Ligo from longing for a cure for his affliction, or his
father’s praise.
“Stay low, and quiet as can be, my lords,” Firon instructed the princes.
“If we spook ’em, they’ll head for the water, and we’ll catch naught.”
Ligo exhaled a warm breath that froze on his chin. Wouldn’t that be nice?
He shivered more from fear than the persistent chill. “What if they don’t
spook?”
“Oh, they’ll spook alright, my lord. Walruses are fearsome in the water,
but vulnerable on ice. Soon as that bull gets wind of us, they’ll all be
swimming.”
The hunter secured his club to his belt, and then tucked his seal bladder
under his arm before hoisting his spear.
“Soon as I harpoon the bull, charge in after me and stab him first, so we
can keep him on the ice.”
“Then we club him,” Calamir said.
“Quiet, now,” King Kolf said. “Go on, Firon.”
The huntsman crouched and slid his feet across the snow, careful to avoid
generating any crunching noise. King Kolf, Calamir, and Ligo mimicked him.
The four slunk down the embankment, creeping behind sculpted drifts to hide
from the sentinel.
“Just think,” Calamir whispered, “right now, your princess is sailing into
Worglen.”
Ligo wondered what his bride-to-be looked like.
Gael Drachia. They had only exchanged letters, filled with tepid small
talk, and Ligo had never even seen a portrait. Her father, King Eronak, was
reportedly a tall man, silver-haired and handsome. I’m sure she’s lovely.
“Still can’t believe father agreed to marry you to King Drachia’s
daughter.”
Calamir’s whisper snapped Ligo from his trance. He shot his brother a stern
look, under the guise of maintaining Firon’s mandated quiet, but truly, for
interrupting his musing.
Ligo’s glare had no effect on Calamir, who continued speaking hushed words
over his shoulder. He should watch where he’s going. The huntsman’s cautious
pace provided time for the Fiegard sons’ minds to wander. The problem was, when
Calamir grew antsy, so did his lips.
“S’pose Father has no choice,” Calamir said.
“Since Mother fled, and The Triplets started acting up, the realm’s fallen
on hard times.”
Ligo agreed that the time had arrived to seek aid outside their dominion.
Yet, an arranged marriage to his family’s former rival worried him. But Father
knows what he’s doing. Doesn’t he? Calamir was correct about one thing; ever
since their mother’s controversial disappearance, events had accelerated for
the worse.
“Think father’s told King Drachia about your spells?” Calamir asked. “Bet
he hasn’t.”
Ligo knew the truth and wasn’t proud of it. His father’s words echoed in
his head: “Perhaps you’ll never have another, but if you do after marriage,
pretend it’s your first. They’ve no way to know.”
Ligo loathed starting a union while hiding his worst secret. He yearned to
please his father by helping the family, but feared deceiving his future
in-laws. I’ll find a cure someday, with or without Mystic Riggan’s help.
Firon stopped and signaled his royal followers for silence. The huntsman’s
fierce gaze relayed the message that they were close enough for the massive
sentinel to hear them. With King Kolf glaring back at them as well, Calamir
held his tongue and Ligo struggled to focus. Firon resumed his forward crawl,
even slower than before.
Without Calamir’s whispering to distract him, Ligo’s mind wandered back to
their pre-dawn exit from Castle Fieg. They guided their sled dogs through the
dark, empty streets of Skelmoth in near anonymity. Few residents were awake
that early, and of those that were, even fewer recognized the hunting party.
Still, Ligo caught glimpses of a handful of salutes, bows, and waves as they
sped through the town and past the hibernating farmlands. Most early morning
folk paid them no mind, however. And I’m sure just as many cursed us under
their breath, or worse.
Ligo recalled how, as a boy, the townsfolk adored the Fiegards. Did things
appear different because I was a child? Ligo doubted this was
the case.
When times are tough, blame the rulers.
The Realm of Fiegardia existed for centuries, with its territory
encompassing the main island of Fiegsland and countless smaller outer islands.
Fiegardia boasted the great mines, its source of wealth, and also supported a
hearty fishing and whaling economy, bolstered by local seasonal farmers and a
robust merchant trade.
During Ligo’s eighteen years, the southern volcanoes’ spewing increased
incrementally, while the Fiegardian seasons turned colder. The more days the
harbors froze, the fewer days trading ships could travel in and out of
Fiegardia. The same applied for fishing boats, although fish could still be
caught through holes in the ice. Only the miners remained undeterred, far
underground during the working days, and mostly oblivious to The Triplets’
ash-laden skies and shortening summers.
Despite his layered leathers and furs, a chill radiated from Ligo’s bones.
The cold bit so deep, his fingers and toes numbed. He feared the ominous aura
signaled an oncoming attack. Ligo glanced over his shoulder at the barren
landscape to shake the feeling he was being followed. He envisioned the
ravenous wolves from earlier that day, but saw nothing. He ignored the
sensations and convinced himself paranoia got the better of him. I always
assume the worst.
With every cautious step, Ligo’s anxiety heightened. His body shivered, and
he struggled with his fear. Ligo rationalized his condition. It was a long
ride, and I’m nervous about the feast. And I really do hate hunting. He longed
for the ordeal to end and imagined himself in bed beside a roaring hearth
flame.
With Gael Drachia beside me, someday soon.
Behind a shiny ridge, Firon halted and faced the royals. His hands signaled
the walrus herd was on the drift’s opposite side. The Fiegards understood they
were to wait while Firon attacked the bull.
A hammer pounded between Ligo’s ears and an icy sweat coalesced on his
trembling flesh. He gritted his teeth as Firon crawled over the ridge. Just
hold on a little longer. It’ll soon be over.
From beyond the crystalline crest, the bull’s agonized wail echoed across
the tundra. A split second later, Firon’s shout launched the Fiegards into
action.
Spears raised, King Kolf and Calamir bounded over the bank. With both
hands, Ligo clutched his spear and followed his kin into the fray. As he
slip-slid over the ice-coated snow bank, he spotted Firon struggling with the
wounded bull.
It’s huge!
The herd scattered into the sea while the huntsman drove his spear into the
furious sentinel.
Ligo’s father and brother raced toward the fearsome bull, weapons poised.
They need my help.
With his next step, Ligo’s vision blurred, and a scream escaped his lips.
His spear dropped from his grip and warm fluid ran down his thigh. He pitched
toward the unforgiving ice—and the enraged walrus.
Before impact, Ligo’s world disappeared.
About C.M. Skiera:
C. M. Skiera
currently lives in San Diego, California, a long way from Michigan, where he
grew up, graduated from Michigan State University, and started a career as an
environmental engineer. He and his wife are devoted dog-lovers who share their
home with two rescue Chihuahuas. Crimson & Cream is C. M. Skiera's debut
epic fantasy novel. He started writing the epic fantasy in 1999, and
after many twists and turns, 13 drafts, plenty of rejections, the arrival of
the 21st Century and the advent of online self-publishing, the ebook was
published in 2012. After Crimson & Cream, Mirrors & Mist (2015) and
then Warlock & Wyrm (2017) followed as the second and third books of The
Oxbow Kingdom Trilogy.
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Giveaway Details:
5 winners
will receive an eBook of PLEA TO A FROZEN GOD, International.
Ends October
29th, midnight EST.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Tour Schedule:
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