QSFer Deonne Dane has a new queer fantasy book out (bi, gay), Legend of the Ancients Book 1: “Moon Rite.”
Two rites, one fate.
The son of a Voce healer and a Dracan warrior, Falric Mislan has always questioned where he belongs.
While obligation, the easy companionship of his peers and the unswerving loyalty of his best friend has kept him grounded in his father’s culture, the alluring magic of his mother’s people inexorably calls to him.
Two rites stand between Falric and his fate. One, a simple, but unfamiliar ceremony that will awaken his Voce powers. The other, the Moon of Solitude.
But when Falric uncovers a dangerous object, death and vengeance threaten his place and his future. Secrets abound and more than loyalties will be tested.
The books of Locurnia contain explicit material. This series is intended for adults 18 and over
The razor-sharp edge of the knife’s blade grazed the vulnerable skin on Falric’s inner arm.
“How deeply should I cut?” Jaro asked him, his wary brown eyes fixed on the knife in his hand.
Falric hesitated to give Jaro the command to slice his flesh. Cuts did not scare him, nor did he fear pain, or the sight of blood for that matter, but the whispers of self-doubt turned clarion loud. It was the fear of failure that hounded him.
What if he had no magic?
Falric cast one last furtive glance down the small valley they had found for themselves to the east of the Outlier’s campsite. He’d sought privacy to perform this rite. The rug on which they knelt opposite each other, nestled beneath a jagged overhang, offering them welcome shade from the burning sun.
Should he fail, he could not risk his peer’s derision. Only Jaro could know. Jaro would never judge him.
Taking a deep breath, the tendrils of scent wafted from lavender candles whispering the aroma of calm and success, settling him. Straightening, he drew his shoulders back. “If it works it won’t matter,” he said, casting his friend a wry smile and gathered his courage.
The words from his childhood came back quickly. Words that his mother had forbidden him to ever speak, but he determined to own them. Uttered again and again in secret, the chant had taken on an almost talismanic mantra. “De Navate nee filus audom pate fion eh mus largior virdosavi.”
Jaro’s eyes bugged wide and fearful. “What does it mean?”
“It’s a call to the worthy prophet, offering an open heart in exchange for the blessing of my ancestors,” he said.
“The magic of Voce?”
“Aye. ’Tis what sets my ma apart.” She had been through this rite, at least that’s what he’d assumed. He had no idea of its truth, the story he’d overheard had been gossip between women and not meant for his ears. But the words had resonated to his very soul.
“Hush now,” he said.
Again, Falric repeated the words he hoped declared him a son of Vocekind and demanded the same gifts as his forebears. He hoped that he had enough of his mother in him to be found worthy.
Brown eyes met above his outstretched arm and Falric gave Jaro the commanding nod. Jaro pressed down.
“There you are, you skulking bastards,” a voice boomed.
The blade sliced deep.
Falric bit back on a curse.
Keno ran the last few steps, small clouds of dust pluming beneath his bare feet, grinning that he had managed to catch them unawares. “I thought to find you going at it like rabbits,” he said, with a bemused laugh, his rangy stature belying the depth of his voice. “But instead I find you at prayers.”
“By Nord’s hairy arse,” Jaro cursed in between offering Falric his fervent apologies. “It’s no prayer session. Now, shut your mouth.” Falric felt Jaro’s tight grip even as blood bubbled between the youth’s fingers.
Tensing with anticipation, he awaited the euphoric feeling of power awakening. His blood stirring and filling with potency, alive with the force of healing magic…
He felt nothing.
Born in New Zealand, Deonne grew up on a diet of genie’s and witches and space adventure. Not vampires, they were too scary. Back in that day they didn’t sparkle. She scribbled her version of fanfic in exercise books, on lined refill and coloured notepaper. And then she discovered epic fantasy; Eddings, Kerr, Donaldson & Brooks and felt she had come home.
Later, as happens with most people, she let herself be diverted by the mundanity of adulthood; marriage, widowhood, remarriage, children, separation and even lived through the Christchurch earthquakes, until she remembered the thing she was missing.
Thus began her journey into the world of Locurnia. With family in the queer community and her developing passion for all things MM she decided to marry these two loves together.