book one
The Severing Son
When Mighty Lion is cast aside
The Severing Son restores his pride…
If Elan had been asked, she would not have denied that she loved the fireside tales of the dashing fallen lion lord. Gods afire, Elan wasn’t sure she actually believed in the bedamned prophecy, let alone the role the banished chieftain and his firstborn son were supposedly destined to play in it. Still, she would have admitted she’d been excited to hear that the Spali warband her host hunted was heading for the outcast’s hidden compound.
Yes, Elan knew her host had yet to encircle the attacking Spali; yes, it was thrilling to watch the disgraced lion lord valiantly hold the Spali at bay; yes, the son’s appearance in the battle had stunned her; and yes, she’d been horrified when the young lion froze in the face of attack. But Elan also had to confess, Vahldan had restored her belief in him during the fraught moments after the Spali were driven off.
It was true—Elan had triggered the counterattack early. It was her fault that the Spali had gotten away. She willingly confessed to violating her duty to ensure the young man’s safety.
As her penance, Elan would serve as the guardian to those she’d saved. She was tasked with guiding Vahldan and his family out of the wilderness, safely away from those who hunted them. Little did she know, she would be delivering them into the hands of those who secretly sought their demise.
Thunder wakes when blades collide
The steed on which Urrinan rides…
Vahldan, son of Angavar the Outcast, was brash, headstrong, and untried. But she alone had witnessed his promise. Elan knew that she alone stood between his ruinous rage and his rightful future as a chieftain. And she had to admit, at least to herself, he very well could be the Bringer of Urrinan—the foretold warrior who would spark the flames of prophecy.
The Sundered Nation
A Trilogy of Dania
book two - Out Now!
Bold Ascension
Tho’ Lion’s Son reclaims the blade
So too is spurned the futhark’s glade…
Elan knew. She and Vahldan shared a connection. Vahldan had always longed for the sea, but from the moment he laid his eyes on it, their connection revealed more than his marvel in its beauty. Elan also sensed his realization. Vahldan had been awoken to potential. He instantly grasped the possibilities in the wealth of the stone cities that lined Pontea’s shores. Even then, Elan knew that their lives would be forever changed They were both right, of course. The Amalus did well as hired mercenaries, sailing with the smuggler Malvius. Their success exceeded their wildest dreams.
Through all of their years abroad, Elan longed for the glades of Dania, longed to have her daughter accepted by the tribe that had banished her. Vahldan’s aspirations for Dania grew into something beyond a desire to restore balance to the futhark. Elan sensed his thirst for power. Power in pursuit of justice, yes, but also power in the name of vengeance. Vahldan longed for dominion over those who had stood by while his father was ousted and then murdered.
Elan knew Vahldan kept another secret: he longed for something else that could only be found in Dania. They almost never spoke of the girl born to the seeress, fathered by the wolf lord. Elan knew the daughter of such a union could provide the key to the glory Vahldan sought. Glory that would deliver the sort of power for which he yearned.
‘Yond rock and vale his fame is sought
Kingdoms quail as empire’s wrought…
Vahldan had seized his title as Lion Lord of the Amalus. But it was not enough. He sought glory where it was best found—in war. Elan had once been foolish enough to hope that Vahldan could become the Bringer of Urrinan. Now she knew better. She’d learned to fear the power his foretold destiny bestowed.
Elan knew. She sensed that Vahldan of the Amalus had become more than capable of leading her people to the catastrophe that Urrinan required of its Bringer.
book three - coming soon
Destiny’s Doom
The Bringer wields but half a ring
A scion’s gat proclaims a king
Elan didn’t like what she had become. She didn’t like what war had made of her; mourned what she and Vahldan had become. She’d given herself to him half a lifetime ago. She’d given herself over to a life of war, surrendered herself to Vahldan’s doom. But she refused to surrender her daughter to destiny.
Vahldan had made himself a king and forged an empire. He would have his two sons. He seemed to have given up on the notion of fulfilling the futhark, and looked only to what could be wrought in the so-called civilized world. But Elan knew what came for them. Elan had fought the Tiberians under General Vernius. She knew how relentless they could be. Tiberia would pay any price to exterminate the Gottari.
An exile keeps a nation torn
Of strife and ruin an age is born
Vahldan thought only of his legacy. Elan knew that he had yet to understand: he was an absent leader and father. He had yet to step up to become the man his father had hoped he would become. She needed to find a way to reach him, to help him become the king she wished he’d never named himself. Before it was too late. Before his legacy was erased by an empire that was willing to forfeit honor in order to seal his and their people’s doom.
Thunder wakes when blades collide
The steed on which Urrinan rides…”
Elan came to understand before Vahldan had. She would do whatever was necessary to see to it that the children of Urrinan lived to ascend. Or all that they had endured, and the inevitable doom that their destiny required of them, would be for naught.
