Release date: July 30, 2015
Subgenre: Epic fantasy
About The Meldling:
THE MELDLING is a tale of epic fantasy, set in a world where humans have
been driven underground by a war not of their making, and one woman
must find the truth of her existence within her own heart.
She was rescued from a darkened dungeon; brought out into the light with no memory of her past. Her only certainty was her name: Suzanna.
Her flesh marks her as a daemon, one of a race of deadly warriors locked in a war with their mortal enemies, the daevas, that has scoured the surface of the world. Humans are irrelevant to them both. But it was Lukas, a human knight, who carried her from the dungeon, nursed her back to health, and protected her from harm. Her body may be daemonic, but her soul is not, and there is a far deeper connection between her and Lukas than either of them will say.
Lukas decides to bring her to Bastion, the hidden underground city of the humanva, to face the judgment of the Distant Nine. On the journey, the truth is revealed: Suzanna is a meldling, a rare fusion of daemonva and humanva. Meldlings are unstable, dangerous, and prone to total madness. Suzanna may be the first to keep her sanity, but if the Distant Nine decide that she is a threat, she will also be the last.
Suzanna must accept her past, and finally learn who or what she really is, underneath her daemonic skin. Drawn into events beyond her control, the meldling will become the key to ending the war - but will it be with the destruction or the salvation of the daemonva?
And are her feelings for one human knight real?
She was rescued from a darkened dungeon; brought out into the light with no memory of her past. Her only certainty was her name: Suzanna.
Her flesh marks her as a daemon, one of a race of deadly warriors locked in a war with their mortal enemies, the daevas, that has scoured the surface of the world. Humans are irrelevant to them both. But it was Lukas, a human knight, who carried her from the dungeon, nursed her back to health, and protected her from harm. Her body may be daemonic, but her soul is not, and there is a far deeper connection between her and Lukas than either of them will say.
Lukas decides to bring her to Bastion, the hidden underground city of the humanva, to face the judgment of the Distant Nine. On the journey, the truth is revealed: Suzanna is a meldling, a rare fusion of daemonva and humanva. Meldlings are unstable, dangerous, and prone to total madness. Suzanna may be the first to keep her sanity, but if the Distant Nine decide that she is a threat, she will also be the last.
Suzanna must accept her past, and finally learn who or what she really is, underneath her daemonic skin. Drawn into events beyond her control, the meldling will become the key to ending the war - but will it be with the destruction or the salvation of the daemonva?
And are her feelings for one human knight real?
Excerpt:
She opened her eyes, as if there was anything to see in the darkness of the hole in which she had been left to rot. There was never enough light to see, even with her enhanced vision; her other senses filled in the gap left by sight. The smell of damp and mold clashed with a vague undertone of burnt straw. The sound of dripping came from somewhere to the far left, and the rumble of... something, some machinery, from behind the wall at her back. Numbness. Her skin felt nothing, her mouth tasted of nothing. Her body, already at the edge of complete failure, could not transmit much to her fragmented mind.
The wall. Very cold. Something of her body was not dead yet. She moved, weakly, and heard the faint clink of the chains around her wrists. Something... she remembered a feeling, of open air and sunlight and breezes, and wind flowing around her body, and...
Wings. Her wings, and flight through open skies. The few shreds of memory flickered in her mind and faded in and out like a lighthouse in a storm. She could not trust them. Memories were fickle and nebulous; sometimes she almost knew who she was, and other times her mind was nothing but a deadened void. But these memories were compelling, and enticed her with the wavering thread of light and hope in this dark pit.
She moved again, and there was a brief needle of pain in her back. The memories scattered as she tried to make sense of this new feeling, tried to make her tortured nerves work again. Another memory blossomed in her mind. Wings, her wings, spread behind her body which was chained hands and feet to the wall. Muscles ached, stretched and stiff, with the effort of holding her upright. Long metal spikes were driven through the
delicate membranes, pinning down her wings and staking her to the cold stone. The rust flaked in the congealed wounds, and her dried black blood streaked down her body and stained the flagstones. A brief, aching flash of sensation rippled through her limbs, and the memory coalesced into reality.
He had staked her to the wall by her wings.
The wall. Very cold. Something of her body was not dead yet. She moved, weakly, and heard the faint clink of the chains around her wrists. Something... she remembered a feeling, of open air and sunlight and breezes, and wind flowing around her body, and...
Wings. Her wings, and flight through open skies. The few shreds of memory flickered in her mind and faded in and out like a lighthouse in a storm. She could not trust them. Memories were fickle and nebulous; sometimes she almost knew who she was, and other times her mind was nothing but a deadened void. But these memories were compelling, and enticed her with the wavering thread of light and hope in this dark pit.
She moved again, and there was a brief needle of pain in her back. The memories scattered as she tried to make sense of this new feeling, tried to make her tortured nerves work again. Another memory blossomed in her mind. Wings, her wings, spread behind her body which was chained hands and feet to the wall. Muscles ached, stretched and stiff, with the effort of holding her upright. Long metal spikes were driven through the
delicate membranes, pinning down her wings and staking her to the cold stone. The rust flaked in the congealed wounds, and her dried black blood streaked down her body and stained the flagstones. A brief, aching flash of sensation rippled through her limbs, and the memory coalesced into reality.
He had staked her to the wall by her wings.
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About Claire Ryan:
Claire Ryan is a writer who produces fantasy adventure, steampunk,
sci-fi, genre - basically anything weird. She's worked in online
advertising, affiliate marketing, and (gasp) retail management, and
she's finally decided to try writing books for a living.
She wrote The Author's Marketing Handbook because she got tired of repeating herself all the time while talking to other writers.
Her first novel is due out summer 2015.
== Irish ex-pat now living the Canadian Dream in Vancouver. Web programmer by day. Occasional maker of cloth-based stuff. Book-binder. Longsword fighter. ==
She wrote The Author's Marketing Handbook because she got tired of repeating herself all the time while talking to other writers.
Her first novel is due out summer 2015.
== Irish ex-pat now living the Canadian Dream in Vancouver. Web programmer by day. Occasional maker of cloth-based stuff. Book-binder. Longsword fighter. ==
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