Throwback Thursday: ‘Lauresa’s Song’ by JM Landels

Blood Gift

This week we’re throwing way back to the Autumn 2014 issue of Pulp Literature, containing the first publication of several chapters of the bestselling fantasy Allaigna’s Song: Overture by JM Landels. It’s a pivotal scene in which Einavar, who has just rescued Lauresa from Ilvani marauders, gives her the bloodblade that will play a role throughout the Allaigna’s Song trilogy.

This issue first came out over ten years ago, and we still have some copies of the out-of-print Issue 4. From now till the end of January, you can snag one for the original price of $8!

To whet your appetite (pun intended), enjoy this excerpt …

Allaigna’s Song: Lauresa’s Chorus

by JM Landels

They pick their way southeast, jogging comfortably between thin pines where the ground allows it, till the road comes back to meet them.  Einavar bids her wait with the horses while he puts an ear to the frozen ground.  He motions her forward and she crosses the road, leading his mare.  He stays for moment, scuffing with his toe the odd hoof print that shows even in the frozen mud.  His soft-soled boots, she notices, leave no trail.  They dog the road for a while, keeping above but within sight of it, until the pines disappear entirely.

“Here is the worst part,” he murmurs.  “We cross open ground through the Kelerin Hills till we reach the edge of the great Forest.  Luckily, there’s little enough snow, and we can avoid leaving tracks –” he stops.  “Listen.”

She can barely hear it over the wind, but when he points, she sees the familiar cloud of black birds far off along the road.  Something else, or someone perhaps, has met an end along this road.  But who?

“I must know.”  She is calm, matter-of-fact, but there is a desperate urgency behind her voice.

“The risk is too great,” he says mildly, turning to look at her.  “If the bodies down there are the rest of the raiders, so much the better.  If they are not … there’s nothing you can do for them if the crows are already there.”

“I need to know,” this time the words are choked, far from calm.  

She wheels Peri down the slope in a zigzagging trot.  She is not foolish enough to risk the mare’s fine legs in a downhill gallop.  Not yet.

He mutters something – a curse, perhaps – and follows her.

The slope levels out and Lauresa lets Peri into a canter across the tufted ground, hoping no marmot or fox holes are hidden in the dried grass.  The mare picks her own way; Lauresa’s eyes are blurred with impending tears once more, and are no use for guidance.

When the scent of blood hits her nostrils Peri skids to a stop, tossing her head and throwing her rider forward.  Lauresa has to kick her hard to move onward, and she skitters, prancing anxiously while Einavar trots his mare beside her.  They clear the last hillock and both horses stop short.

The road is red and muddy, the bodies of men and horses scattered across it.  Lauresa drops to the ground, lets Peri’s reins trail, and picks her way down the cut.  The uniforms of the dead mark them as Aerach patrol.  There are fewer horses than men – some of the mounts must have been stolen or run free.

Einavar is beside her, so quiet he makes her jump. “These have been dead more than a day.”

“Before the attack on us,” she murmurs.  “So why…”

“Why hasn’t another patrol found these bodies?” he finishes for her.

It is a rhetorical question, and its lack of an answer should worry her more.  There is a sudden movement behind them.  They wheel.  One of the horses is not dead.  It raises a muddy head and makes a faint desperate squeal as it tries to rise.  Its hindquarters are useless, frozen by an arrow in the spine.

Einavar strides over and cuts its throat with a swift motion of his sword.  Lauresa turns away, the brutal mercy of the act ripping at the dressings of her thudding heart.

He wipes his sword clean on the dead beast’s hide and motions for her.  “We should not be here.”

She nods, fighting nausea. Their horses prick their ears and dance away, spooked by the scent of death.  

As they remount he asks, “Have you any weapon?  A knife – anything at all to defend yourself?”

She shakes her head, still dumb with horror, grief, and fear.

He pulls a wicked looking dagger from his boot-top and hands it to her. “Carry this, but guard it well.  It has been in my family a long time.” Its ornate handle is carved of black stone; its blade is cruelly hooked and sharp.

She finds her voice, a small and timid creature in the back of her throat.  “It looks Ilvani.”

He nods, a brief twitch of the head.

“But you …”  She has seen Ilvani traders and emissaries at the court before.  They are uniformly lovely and exotic, with silver blonde hair, honey-coloured skin, and eyes that range from pale amethyst to violet-black.

“Ilvani is a term from your language, Princess, which you use to describe those unlike yourselves.  My people are indeed more closely related to the Ilvani in these parts than to you and yours.  But we are more different than alike in many ways.”

He removes his hood and she can see him in the midday light.  Though his eyes are grey, they do indeed have an Ilvani shape and cast.  The high cheekbones, the thin face, are other clues as well.  But the frost-pale skin and jet-black hair make him seem altogether otherworldly.

“A word of warning, Princess,” he adds.  “Keep it hidden.  There are many who would consider it a killing offence to see such a blade in Ilmari hands.”

“And you do not?”

A half-smile flickers and he shrugs.  “It is merely stone and steel.  While I have a sentimental attachment to it, I am not so superstitious.  Or so full of hate.”

Read the full chapter in Pulp Literature Issue 4, or get the full Allaigna’s Song Trilogy, both on sale till January 31st.

If you enjoy Jen’s writing, you can join her and frequent contributor JJ Lee in person on Wednesday January 22nd at Café Duello in downtown Vancouver. Check out the details on our workshop page!

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JM Landels divides her professional time between writing, editing, drawing, and teaching people to swordfight from horseback. She has no hobbies, since they all tend to turn into professions.

Her fantasy trilogy Allaigna’s Song: Overture is available from Pulp Literature Press and most fine booksellers, and her novel-in-progress The Shepherdess is appearing in even-numbered issues of Pulp Literature.