Ragis by Donna Migliaccio
August 28, 2018
Fantasy
The Gemeta Stone Book 4
Fiery Seas Publishing, LLC
Kristan Gemeta is teetering on the brink of madness.
His sister Melissa has defied him. His friend Olaf has betrayed him. The Wichelord Daazna’s ghostly laughter mocks him when he’s awake and robs him of his sleep at night. Even the protective powers of his legendary Stone are turning against him.
And now his companions, his ship and its precious cargo have been taken hostage. Kristan must give chase, in an unseaworthy vessel manned by an angry centaur crew. Ahead lie unfriendly waters, an ominous destination and a confrontation Kristan dreads.
In his despair, Kristan longs for the one person he has always trusted: his beloved Heather. But she’s far away, about to step into a trap that will endanger not just her command, but Kristan’s life.
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RAGIS by Donna Migliaccio
Excerpt from Chapter Four
Bucking furiously, the Sigurd-bat opened its mouth, showing an uneven row of sharp teeth. With a sudden hiss, the spell collapsed, and Sigurd finally materialized, flat on his back, arms and legs waving, purple-faced with rage. Nolle’s eyes rolled up into her head; she tottered backward and fell. Like an angry bear, Sigurd lunged on hands and knees toward her. Serle cried out and tried to pull Nolle out of reach as Desta slashed at Sigurd with the knife, catching the sleeve of the Northman’s tunic. Sigurd slammed one elbow into the boy’s midriff, sending him flying, then grabbed Nolle by the ankle. Shouldering through the watching men, Olaf grasped his brother’s arm, but Sigurd twisted free, and dragged Nolle from Serle’s grasp. With a shrill cry that spiraled into a yowling screech, she abruptly shifted into her cat-form and raked one forepaw across Sigurd’s nose. In a blur of claws and fur, she fled behind Kristan. Serle joined her there as Sigurd roared and advanced, but Desta charged at the Northman yet again. Kristan grabbed the boy by the collar, slung him in the bow with Serle and Nolle, and threw out both arms protectively. “Don’t hurt them!” he cried. “I’ll do whatever you want, only don’t hurt my children!”
Sigurd loomed over him, breathing hard, blood dripping from the claw marks scoring his nose. “Your children?” he snarled. “Your little band of freaks? I ought to knock you down and drown all three.”
Kristan did not move. He was suddenly, strangely calm. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll try to summon the power of the Stone. But touch any one of these children and I won’t be responsible for what happens afterward. I swear it.”
Sigurd loomed over him, breathing hard, blood dripping from the claw marks scoring his nose. “Your children?” he snarled. “Your little band of freaks? I ought to knock you down and drown all three.”
Kristan did not move. He was suddenly, strangely calm. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll try to summon the power of the Stone. But touch any one of these children and I won’t be responsible for what happens afterward. I swear it.”
Sigurd feinted toward Nolle’s cat-form. She hissed, ran up the serpent-like prow, and stood at its end, back arched, fur standing out all along her spine. Desta let out a hiss of his own and brandished his knife, but Kristan quelled him with a glance. Serle stayed where he was, chin trembling.
“Bróðir, leave them alone,” Olaf said gently. “If the StoneKing says he’ll try to help, he will.”
“He’d better,” Sigurd said. He backed up a few steps and waved one hand dismissively, but his fingers shook, and his face was pallid and sweating.
Kristan turned toward the prow. Nolle’s shift form still perched there, shivering. Serle cowered by the hull, white to the lips. Desta still clutched his knife and watched the Northmen with a distrustful eye. “Desta, put your knife away and stand aside,” Kristan said. “Nolle, come down from there. Go wait with Serle. Serle, calm her down, please. Desta, stay with them.”
“Yes, my lord,” Desta said.
“Yes, my lord,” Serle whispered.
Nolle slipped past Kristan, and he had just a glimpse of her wild eyes within the shift form. She slunk to Serle, who crouched and put his arms around her. Desta stood over the two, one hand on the hilt of his knife, the other nursing his side where Sigurd had struck him.
“Now be still,” Kristan told the three of them. “This will be over soon.”
About the Author:
Donna Migliaccio is a professional stage actress with credits that include Broadway, National Tours and prominent regional theatres.
She is based in the Washington, DC Metro area, where she co-founded Tony award-winning Signature Theatre and is in demand as an entertainer, teacher and public speaker.
Her award-winning short story, “Yaa & The Coffins,” was featured in Thinkerbeat’s 2015 anthology The Art of Losing.
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