Chapter Preview: The Windows of the World
My first science fantasy novel will launch at the LA Times Festival of Books April 18-19, 2026
Atuma and Pedral rode in the fading light for nearly an hour, almost completing their climb. As they crested the ridge and turned north, the breathtaking Prehandan coast opened before them—streaks of orange and pink painting the sky and coloring the sea. Taking in the serenity, Atuma’s thoughts drifted to Beren.
I wonder if I’ll see her again.
Out on the water, two ships were visible—one approaching from the north, the other from the south, both with nondescript white sails. “Even the fishermen must know of the coming war,” Atuma remarked. “The seas are bare this evening.”
“Look, Captain!” Pedral pointed.
“Is that an Orahim ship? Moving towards our heading?”
“It had better be the Yellow Lady, after all the trouble that mutiny caused us.”
Does he mean Eltisse?
“Did you make a deal with her? To find the Spiral Stair on her behalf?” Atuma asked.
Pedral didn’t answer, and a sense of dread settled in. Far below, the ship coming from the south veered toward the small inlet known as Stoney Bay.
I hope that’s Amali.
“What happened back in that tent?” Atuma asked as they made their way onto a narrow, rocky ledge that wound down toward the shore. “Did you use some sort of magic trick on Cardichi?”
“It was no trick. You could do something similar if you allowed yourself.”
“Why did you come to Prehanda? To find recruits for your journey through the Spiral Stair?”
“The unknown world grows smaller, and the more a sphere like Nonova learns about the Sopvendi, the more it will understand the terrible power we wield.”
“Nonova?”
“It’s what we call your world, Captain. Try and keep up!” Pedral replied.
Atuma couldn’t tell if Pedral was urging his horse faster or questioning his intelligence.
“So you came as conquerors to make us submit?”
“Trask and I may not agree on much, but we aren’t warlords. Our power is a great responsibility. Our Order forbids us from using lethal force unless our lives are threatened. You can imagine how quickly your world would unravel if Sopvendi were constantly using their abilities like I did on your friend Cardichi.”
“But you still hurt him.”
“I didn’t kill Cardichi. He’ll be fine with a good rest. Doubt he’ll be the last person caught in my quasar tonight,” Pedral warned.
“That’s what you call it? A quasar?”
“Everything moves,” Pedral said. “Even what feels still—the air, the ground, the blood in your veins—it’s all moving, all carrying charge. I just push or pull on that flow.” He curled his fingers as if gathering invisible threads. “I can squeeze the air tight enough to make it feel like stone. I can pull the earth apart along the lines where it’s weakest. And if I listen, really listen, I can feel every flicker of movement—a heartbeat, a footstep, even far away.” A smile touched his mouth. “It’s all the same thing. I just listen to the current, and decide where it goes.”
“Do the Blahsaj have warriors like you?”
“The Blahsaj have a great number of weapons at their disposal. But no, they have shut themselves off from Sopvendi for hundreds of years—at their own peril.”
Torchlight flickered on the shore below.
“Will we face others with your powers?” Atuma asked.
“That’s why we’ve come to Nonova, Captain. Enemies of our order—forces that would see this world turn to darkness. We believe they’ve found a way into Nonova besides the Passage in Giyon.”
Pedral’s horse found footing on the beachhead, striding confidently towards the waiting Orahim.
Atuma’s horse, however, sensed hesitation. “Let me do the talking,” he said.
Eltisse stood with the hulking guard Atuma had seen in the cellar, Koro. Sulran and Blotched Raven were also present.
Pedral ignored the warning, swinging off his horse and calling, “My lady! My lord. I appreciate your making the treacherous journey, per our most recent communication.”
“Our air is your air, Traveler,” Eltisse replied. “House Orahim kept its side of the bargain. Does not the Order? Tonight, I see you share the trail with our enemy.”
“An enemy. Not the enemy,” Pedral said, chuckling. “You would have me kill a capable adversary instead of using him?”
Sulran stepped forward. “You could have ended him with the flick of a wrist, Traveler. Yet now you are collaborators? After he’s spilled Orahim blood?! We assured you of a Passage on the Day of Waiting, so long as you gave us control of the excavation.” He pointed at Atuma. “Now that battle is lost, these duplicitous suits have no reason to fight for Prehanda!”
Atuma met Eltisse’s gaze calmly. “We neutralized a poorly organized coup attempt at camp this morning. Our brave Talverin conscripts are safer for it.”
Eltisse scowled. Pedral added, “Captain Harksgard means to say that Imperium organized the laborers into a fit fighting force—save for the mutineers, of course. We will be ready to hold the Twilight Gate. These men have a fighting chance, my lady. Can you abide that?”
“A fighting chance in chains, no doubt,” she said.
“It was your gamble, my lady. You can hardly fault this man for valuing his life and those in his charge. Had that fool Kirila consulted me, I’d have told her there are Sopvendi among Imperium ranks—too many to be a coincidence.”
“All the more reason to end them.” Eltisse said. “At first sight of the jergun vanguard, the suits will climb their mounts and run for the Fort—if they’ve not already done so.”
“We have six Jerpath. Barge has three thousand. No Talverin would hide us. There’s no safe harbor until we reach the Fort. You think we can outrun a Blahsaj pursuit? There’s good ground at Prehanda. The Blahsaj are our enemy, too. Let us die with honor. You would kill forty of Imperium’s best academés, just to trip on our entrails for selfish pride?”
“There’s no honor for you on any battlefield, suit. I hear you used your own academé as bait at the Twilight Gate last night,” she spat.
“Amali made a choice when they and Brandon bowed to your bribery. We’ll give every Talverin a similar choice when Barge approaches. They can turn their bolter on us and die, or towards the Blahsaj and live.”
“Our men won’t fight for you,” Eltisse said. “Looks like we all die, suit.”
“Do you think, despite your brother’s failure at the Twilight Gate, that you’re still in a position of power? Fine. Name your price for the firing pins then, Lady Orahim. We can strike a deal—not as captors or colonizers—but fellow damned.”
“I will survive this Day of Waiting, as sure as I make no promises with suits.”
“How long will your faithful servants follow you after seeing the suffering you allow?” Atuma said.
Koro shifted forward, but Eltisse raised her hand. “It’s all right. A cornered dog is still a dog.” She turned to Pedral. “Does this man speak for the Sopvendi now?”
“He is Sopvendi.”
“Very well. You want the firing pins? Come and take them, Traveler.”
Koro whirled his bladestaff and lunged forward while Sulran drew his bolter. The Raven stepped forward to cover his lady. Atuma parried Koro’s first thrust, extending his shockstick at the last instant; the force knocked both off-balance and they rolled back.
Pedral’s wall of air would be useful about now.
As the first salvo of boltershot cut towards them, bright bursts of light slammed into Pedral’s quasar and hung suspended, screeching between the belligerents.
On the near side of the wall, Koro kept Atuma on his heels. The captain found a rhythm to the thrusts and lashed out between parries. His shockstick sent showers of sparks as it connected with the guard’s staff. Panic gripped him when the shockstick became lodged. The stronger Koro had the momentary advantage with their blades interlocked.
Instead of pushing, Atuma pulled using Koro’s momentum. In a whirl, he drew his bolter with his right hand and cracked the barrel against Koro’s jaw. The guard toppled toward the waves; his bladestaff lapping in the surf.
The Raven and Sulran were still firing, but their shots merged with the quasar, turning into a lattice of light. The display consumed all of Pedral’s concentration. “Can you move it?” Atuma hollered, wanting Pedral to shove the trio into the sea.
Pedral grunted, but neither he nor the quasar budged.
Atuma’s eyes locked on Sulran, pacing on the other side.
I’ve got to kill him.
He strafed toward the left edge of the barrier and leaned his bolter around it, squeezing off three shots at the boy-heir. The quasar’s edge extended, catching his own bolts and adding them to the net.
He won’t let me kill them. Why?
Sulran smiled, savoring Atuma’s frustration. Eltisse shoved the Raven aside and gestured with her hands; a glowing orb formed between her palms.
Snakes—she has powers too!
She strained, rocking as the glow grew brighter. The quasar wall pulsed at its edges with unspent bolts still stuck within it. It was too much force to hold back for long.
When the orb reached the size of a skull, she hurled it. “Move!” Pedral yelled.
Atuma dove as the orb tore through the quasar like a blade through ribbon, absorbing the trapped bolts. It swelled to the size of a building as it passed, searing the hairs on his neck.
The explosion struck the cliffs with the force of a hundred mortars, burrowing into the escarpment; the earth thrummed with rock crashing to the sea. Their horses, previously unperturbed by the dispute, neighed and bolted down the narrow beach toward safety.
The ground shook and threw everyone toward the water. Koro’s slumped form was gone, claimed by the waves. Dust and stones fell around them. Pedral hauled Atuma up by the collar and reached out to the northernmost cog ship, jittering the torches aboard. Amid the roar of waves and rock, Atuma heard wood splinter and fire spread across the bow.
Pedral had broken their ship with a flick of his wrist.
Eltisse dragged an injured Raven toward the rowboat while Sulran stood frozen, staring at the mountain coming down. “Leaving so soon?!” Pedral shouted.
“You cannot destroy the other ship. Amali could be on board,” Atuma said, pulling at Pedral’s arm.
“I know.”
Pedral gestured; Sulran froze mid-stride toward the other boat—another quasar. The young heir strained against the outworlder’s magic but was rooted to the spot. Eltisse cried out in anger. “Leave now, Eltisse!” Pedral said. “I will keep him safe. You can have him back when this is over. Now, summon your army. Leave the rest to us!”
“I will kill you for this, Pedral Kelmo! I will find you wherever you run!” she snarled. In the whipping waves, she locked eyes with him, then helped the Raven row. When they were far enough from shore, Pedral released Sulran. The boy collapsed onto his knees in the sand.
“I need a moment, Captain. Will you gather the horses?” Pedral asked. Atuma nodded and set off down the beach, trying not to look at the heir convulsing on the shore.
When he returned with the mounts, Pedral said, “The way back is buried in rubble. But the tide is going out. We should be able to ride along the shore until we find a place to climb to the Transverse Gap.”
Atuma nodded and glanced at Sulran. “He looks worse than Cardichi did.”
“He should recover soon. In the meantime, secure him to your saddle.”
The noble was surprisingly light; soon he was tied to the back of Atuma’s mount. Once Pedral had his own horse ready, he handed Atuma a mintsmoke cigarette.
“Looks like you need this more than me, Are you okay to ride?” Atuma asked, passing it back after a drag.
Pedral nodded and thereafter coughed, having taken strong one himself.
They rode along the shore until they came to the northern rim of the caldera. The path up was easy enough, and as they ascended, Atuma’s thoughts drifted to the Spiral Stair. For another hour, they raced across the gap’s main ridge until they found a trail to the northeastern rim. Darkness wore on the horses; Atuma’s mare mis-stepped twice but kept her legs through sheer agility. Pedral hardly noticed, disappearing ahead and circling back to prod him onward.
Pedral finally stopped at a bend in a lightly trod footpath between two conifers, out of place among the low brush. An ill feeling settled over Atuma as they passed. A branch knocked Sulran awake. “Not now, Eltisse. Mother hasn’t bid me leave yet,” he murmured, wearing a boyish grin in his sleep-talking, which made enduring him slightly easier.
The footpath smoothed, but the incline taxed the horses. Atuma called out in protest. “Easy, Pedral! We’re making good time!” Pedral scoffed but slowed.
This is not like him.
“You’ll need to stop talking,” the Sopvendi muttered after a spell. “We’re not alone here.”
No sooner had he spoken than the clash of blades and the crackle of bolter fire echoed ahead. They crested a hill in time to see flashes from a bolter within a circle of trees. Three Blahsaj riders in metal helms and armor were circling two academés. Pedral sped into the fray just as one of the academés’ horses fell.
Yuthdun!
The other rider—a woman—held a bolter in one hand and a sword in the other. Atuma drew his own bolter and fired from a distance—
Zmmpt. Zmmpt.
His shots had the Blahsaj back. Pedral, brandishing the rapier he’d taken from Sulran, swooped in and felled a rider. Atuma tore a hole through another Blahsaj horse’s flank, sending its rider tumbling. Seeing the battle turn, the third rider fled with Pedral giving chase.
Atuma hurried down the slope. In the clearing, Kranis Yuthdun delivered a deathblow to the fallen rider. “Imperium Yuthdun. Imperium Destirn,” Atuma said. “Glad we found you in time.”
“Thank the snakes you did, sir,” Yuthdun replied.
“Should we follow him?” Emilé said, gesturing after the fleeing rider.
“The outlander can manage. Are you hurt?” She nodded, her face pale, and Atuma inspected her wound. It was deep and pouring blood. “Yuthdun, wrap her!”
“How bad is it?” Emilé whispered.
“Keep your eyes on me, Emilé,” Atuma said. Yuthdun applied a salve and bandaged the gash.
“Emilé, can you hear me?”
“Their armor was so bright. I couldn’t hit them, sir. I—I—”
“Imperium, you did so well! East Division is safe because of you. Keep your eyes open, Emilé.”
“Oh, Captain, I want so badly to sleep.”
“You cannot sleep. We must get back to Ubaudi,” Atuma said. “He’ll want a full report. You know how particular he is.”
“You’re right. He won’t want to hear it from you. He doesn’t like you much,” she said weakly.
“You’ve got good instincts,” Atuma chuckled. “I need you to use them and stay with me.”